Three years after her wedding day, Vanessa remains a virgin. Her sickly, cruel husband, the Duke of Tarrick demands she produces an heir with a man of his choosing. Vanessa's choices are narrowing every day. To refuse leaves her penniless and alone for when the cruel Duke dies his estate passes elsewhere. To submit would see her honor surrendered to the new stablehand Fitz. His sparkling green eyes might match her husband, but his cocky, arrogant attitude riles her. He sees no value in her titles and riches, seeking only to enjoy life's opportunities. Including sleeping with a famously beautiful Duchess. The added risk of snooping on servants and family scandal suggests Vanessa should stick to her husband's strict rules and simply endure what has been arranged. But what if giving away her honor to such a casual rogue is the spark that makes her bland world finally explode into life?
On my wedding day I was a nervous, terrified virgin. Three years on I remain untouched, the nerves replaced with resentment. Seething anger that my husband, a man almost thirty years my senior, has thieved the youthful life I could have enjoyed.
Quieter in nature he prefers to spend his months sequestered away in his study at Tarrick Hall. His months are my months. As the dutiful wife, Vanessa, Duchess of Tarrick, I go where he goes.
Each autumn I beg for us to head down to London for the Season, to have a fleeting taste of life and excitement amongst my peers. The Season lasts from November to July. Last year I managed just a few balls in March. It was excruciating to conceal my desperation. To meet people from my generation other than my sister, hear laughter peal around a crowded room.
Last season the gossip rags referred to as the "missing Duchess," a line that always made the Duke chuckle cruelly at our shared breakfast table.
Today, like every other I am sitting in quiet contemplation, pretending to finish a needlework pattern. Since our grand showpiece of a wedding attended by the nation's finest the Duke has been plagued with illnesses.
Edmund's poor health was widely known to all but me when he proposed our union to my father. A fact that annoys me every day.
I had enjoyed my first season out in London too much for my father's liking. Too much dancing and spirited debate for his liking. Marrying me to a Duke, based far away in the north suited him.
My mother, all blue eyes and pearls keenly reassured me how joyous married union could be. With rambunctious children sure to entertain, should our personalities as man and wife not mesh.
"Vanessa, you simply need to learn to adjust," were her final words to me as a single woman. Before I knelt before God, dressed in snow-white lace, and swore to honour the stranger next to me. To honour him with my body. I remember gulping at that phrase.
The church's bare, grey stone columns and vaulted ceiling seemed to swallow me whole. My lively spirit dampened before I even had the ring on my finger.
We had shared enough dinner parties, even danced on occasion but I saw him only as my father's friend. Edmund, Duke of Tarrick should never have been intended as my husband.
Our personalities are poles apart. Children an impossible dream. Several times he attempted, summoning me to his chamber throughout our honeymoon in Venice. The lapping of the canal water below our balcony collided with his frustrated grunts as the agonies in his body made his task impossible.
I lay there, naked, quivering in fear as the man sat on the side of the bed roughly jerked away in frustration, his shirt open and pants lowered.
I saw very little of his naked form apart from our honeymoon. Already over fifty he was a lean, wiry figure. When dressed in his navy suit, gold waistcoat and cream shirt he could look imposing.
He had green eyes, bright and alert yet his face was becoming wrinkled and flaccid. Youth had fled, leaving behind a slender, quietly studious bookworm of a man.
Seeing his ribs judder and shake in pain, hand fishing around in his underwear to try and produce the necessary rise took that impressive image away swiftly. I shall never forget how frail and unimpressive he appeared that night.
My body, despite not loving Edmund, or even attracted to him, was still curious. I'd only heard about the act of love at that point. I knew he needed his male part to harden and insert himself within me. The act seemed so bizarre, so terrifying close.
After the honeymoon, moving to Tarrick Hall saw me acquire the rest of the basic information. Chiefly the crudely printed pamphlets and drawings that the Duke was lazy enough to leave lying around in his library. Naked bodies entwined, breasts exposed, men's tongues on bare flesh. I knew that was what my body intended for. I had round plump breasts, a flowing curve to my hips and waist.
Yet he did nothing with me. Which made me wonder whether I was defective. For months I stared at the mucky pamphlets he had corrected trying to spot the thing they had that I didn't before giving up on the matter and falling into depression.
His anger on our honeymoon was volcanic. The realisation he could not take my virginity.
His body would not obey his command. He moved me to various positions around the bed, lifting my nightgown, laying down, then sat on a chair but nothing. Thankfully his solution after this mortification was to pretend I did not exist. Similarly I pretended not to notice the endless flock of doctors and specialists summoned up the long driveway.
Each carried a huge leather satchel, brimming with the latest spices and special rubs from the far continents. Every newspaper we received carried advertisements for tonics, rubs and oils that could apparently stop time itself.
However in our three years together, Edmund's health only declined. Three years and his pain is so bad I fear he will refuse to visit London entirely this year. Apparently his nerves are balls of fire, racing up and down his spine. Laudanum and other strong sedatives are his support.
I cannot survive this way. I am not drugged and glassy-eyed like him yet I might as well be. My younger sister Kitty visits infrequently, finding Tarrick Hall as dull as myself. My mother I do not wish to see. I resent her approving this match in the first place. The servants whisper and scuttle away from me like mice.
Company is rare, my keenest pleasure is still horse riding. At least my tears vanish into the wind with a good gallop across the open green valleys.
My voice, so rarely spoken, means I often surprise myself when I hear it. Which is why I remained silent when I heard his footsteps heading towards my room.
My cream and gold parlour, overlooking the stables and long, elaborate hedge gardens that lined our drive was my sanctuary. He had his library, study and smoking rooms. Generally I had the grounds and had this airy, soft yellow room.
"Good morning, I trust you are well?" he said with a stiff little nod of his head. Before I could reply, he continued. "I intend for you to produce an heir. The next London season is in three months. I want you pregnant before then. I intend to announce it at the Guildhall Meet."
My voice, even my mind failed me at such a notion. Blinking rapidly as I tried to comprehend the bizarre nature of this conversation he sniffed in derision. He thought me a simpleton, a fact I was happy to allow. With all the reading I had managed in this dour, lonely marriage I had swiftly understood a woman's power is to be easily underestimated.
"You are cured then Sir, your ailments?"
"Of course I'm not," he snapped, limping across the soft oriental rugs to gaze out of my white sash windows. "I need an heir for the Tarrick Estate to avoid it going down my hateful brother's line." With a shuddering cough he added. "We know these cures aren't working, and you aren't getting any younger."
Riled inside at the idea of four-and-twenty being considered old by the withered grey man before me I nodded vacantly.
I wore a dark blue gown of exquisite navy blue, tied round the waist with a ribbon of sky blue. A half-corset brutally fastened underneath, around my ribs to ensure my chest was amply displayed whilst my waist dipped inwards. It meant I sat upright rigidly, supporting me through this moment of shock.
My long brown was gathered up, some ringlets tumbling teasingly, ready for any guest who could arrive. I still had youth on my side, although perhaps little else. All the riches imaginable surrounded me yet it was Edmunds, not mine to spend.
Like a stored museum exhibit, I was merely a beautiful possession, an extravagance on show to nobody.
"What is your suggestion Sir?"
"You wish to have children don't you?" he asked coldly, as if checking whether I liked my tea with or without milk.
"Dearly, Sir, it is the duty of every woman," I replied flatly, a vision of my mother repeating this mantra to me briefly flickering through my mind. Children would surely relinquish some of the loneliness of my existence. A selfish reason to want them, but three years of near isolation will produce such a mood.
"Then you are to have them. A man of my choosing, with similar characteristics to myself shall breed you. Oh and Jeremiah was kicked in the head by one of the mares so a new stablehand has started too. Good day Vanessa."
With a click of his boots he was gone. Another man was to breed me. The phrase, so coldly cruel, as if he was discussing racehorses. My virginity to a stranger was discussed in the same breath as staff issues!
My womanhood was now his disposable trinket in order that he might pass his pile of bricks to someone imitating his blood.
My hands shook as I realised, I had stabbed my needlework pin deep into my thumb with the shock.
"Say it," he growled nipping at my neck. "We…have…unfinished business," I panted, widening my legs myself to let him explore as much as he could, little whimpering moans escaping. Suddenly he withdrew his fingers and placed his hands on the basin leaving me physically aching for more. Still staring at me in the reflection of the mirror he said firmly. "Then when you've stopped pretending this guy is what you want, come find me." Selene doesn't want a mate. She's ambitious, determined and independent. To end up shackled to a man who won't support her dreams like her sisters is her worst nightmare. The mate-bonds monthly heat, overwhelming lust-fuelled insanity terrifies her control-freak nature. Rocco doesn't want a mate. Running a buzzing casino gives him ample opportunity to sleep with all the beautiful human women the city has to offer. Shifters are a hassle. Even beautiful, blonde haired wonders like Selene. Yet when their paths cross sparks fly and they find their own rules impossible to follow. However back in their home town the local Alpha loves taking down proud women. There's a forest full of their bodies at the back of the packhouse. His head Beta desires Selene, and Rocco wants to kill them both for the pains in his past. They are fighting against the very thing that may keep them alive as the cruelty of the pack's leadership turns against Selene. Her trick of hiding in a hotel and lying to her family every full moon can only last for so long...
Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all—from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn’t return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel’s terminal illness and realized she didn’t have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."
Sheila had her back against the wall when her family tried to force her to marry an awful old man. In a fit of rage, she hired a gigolo to act as her husband. She thought the gigolo needed money and did this for a living. Little did she know that he was nothing like that. One day, he pulled off his mask and revealed himself to be the world's top magnate. This marked the beginning of their love. He showered her with everything she could ever want. They were happy. However, unexpected circumstances soon posed a threat to their love. Would Sheila and her husband make it through the storm? Find out!
After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.
When Corynn mustered up the courage to tell Elliot about her pregnancy, she unexpectedly found him gallantly helping another woman from his car. Her heart sank as three years of effort to secure his love crumbled before her eyes, compelling her to leave him behind. Three years later, life had taken Corynn down a new path with someone else, while Elliot was left grappling with regret. Seizing a moment of vulnerability, he pleaded, "Corynn, let's get married." Shaking her head with a faint smile, Corynn gently replied, "Sorry, I'm already engaged."
The dream of everyone with regards to marriage is to be able to find that special someone and settle down with them. Even arranged marriages grant you an opportunity to meet your partner briefly before the wedding. How will you feel about waking up in the morning with someone sleeping next to you who is not just anyone but your legally married partner yet with no memory of how that had happened in just a few hours of going out the previous day? This is the story of Jason Haward and Julia Harrison, two strangers trapped in a marriage they never planned. The quest to find out why led to the unfolding of a mystery which made them realize they are both living a lie. To find out more, read this amazing story of love, betrayal, revenge and murder.
On their wedding night, Rogelio wrapped his fingers around Marian's neck and spat at her, "Congratulations! From now on, you live in hell!" The reason for his wrath was that he believed she was responsible for the death of his elder brother. So, he married her but refused to touch her, determined to make her suffer for the rest of her pitiful life! However, due to an unforeseen accident, Marian was forced to sleep with Rogelio in order to save him, and she ended up getting pregnant. Concealing her pregnancy, Marian lived cautiously under Rogelio's watchful eyes. He hated her and relentlessly humiliated her, yet he would never allow anyone else to lay a finger on her— "Mr. Bailey, your wife got into a fight with someone!" Rogelio secretly took action, eliminating that person completely. "Sir, your wife claimed that all of your family's wealth belongs to her!" Rogelio quietly transferred all the shares to her. Unaware of all this, Marian only wanted to escape, but Rogelio pulled her into his warm embrace, whispering, "Mrs. Bailey, where do you intend to go with our unborn child?"