My signature on the registry is what makes Ashton a duke. That is what I am here: the right name in the right hand on the right page.
Nobody has ever wanted the woman holding the pen.

He settles every dispute the same way. Not with words. With his hand on my skin.
Three nights ago the rival's counsel filed again and he bent me over the study desk. Measured strokes until I yielded.
Then he took me there and went back to the accounts.

That is the shame of it. Not the desk. That I stood at the ledgers afterward and wanted all of it again.
He closes the study door and my breath goes shallow before he has said a word.

The registry is lying open on the blotter tonight and the claim is failing.
He will send everyone away. Bend me over. Mark me until I am done resisting. Take me with the register still open.
A dukedom hangs on a document with my name on it, one word past that door ends the alliance, and I am the one who keeps walking in.
Am I his wife or his evidence? What is left of me if I stop being either?

A full-length Regency corporal chastisement marital dominance erotic novel featuring a duchess who signed for a title and the duke who disciplines her at his desk.