I made the contract with Charlotte to breed an heir before the dukedom slips away. Her voluptuous submission is the solution the ledgers demand, yet the fear that my line ends here keeps me awake at dawn.

Each task we share tightens the pull. I tell myself it is only the deadline that drives my need to claim her, but her practical directness and the way she traces her collarbone when doubt rises make the transaction feel like a cage I crave to enter.

The storm keeps us at the gatehouse, and I do not send her away. The fertile season has already begun to claim more than duty allows. I intend to use every night of it.