For the English Catholics, the Meonia Stone is a call to arms. For Celeste Darwent it is an unknown force that will ultimately shape her destiny.
Caught in a Catholic conspiracy to assassinate a Protestant King, she is forced to seek refuge in a marriage to a man whose word has already condemned her father to the gallows.
“I’ve wanted you from the very moment I first laid eyes on you, my lady,” he whispered against her lips. “Had I known it was you…I would’ve courted you. Done this differently. Marry me, Celeste. Marry me, and you’ll want for nothing. I swear. Allow me to right this. Be my wife.”
Her eyes fluttered opened and Celeste focused on Scully’s handsome face.
“Be my wife,” he repeated.
Tears rose in her eyes and fell in hot tracks into her hair. She turned her face away in quiet shame. No man would have her now, not even Zev, but she could never belong to Scully. Not like this.
“No,” she said.
Scully turned her face back to his. “Wasn’t I kind? Wasn’t I gentle?”
“Leave me be.”
His hands moved down her body molding her tighter to him. His weight shifted once more between her thighs and his manhood pressed against her bruised softness.
“I cannot, my lady. I have defied a French King to be with you tonight.”