Yolande's desperation knew no bounds.
Up until now her life was as perfect as any princess in a storybook. A landed countess, blessed with beauty, intelligence and wealth, she lived in a magnificent castle on the edge of a dark, mysterious forest.
But the fairy tale abruptly became a nightmare when she was promised in marriage to the Marquis de Montereau. Yolande had heard a great deal about the Marquis: he was the most notorious rake in all Paris. He might be willing to marry her for her estates, but he would never love her.
Knowing she would rather die than wed a man she hardly knew and certainly despised, Yolande saw only one way to appraise her future bridegroom and resign herself to marriage.
She would go to Paris impersonating a woman of less than perfect virtue. She would force the Marquis to love her as a woman-not as the owner of a priceless castle.
"You are not playing with me? If you are - if you have lied about your love for me - I think I will kill you! Are you lying?" He was kissing her demandingly; his mouth held her captive as he picked her up in his arm and carried her through the curtains, then the Marquis threw her down in the low coach. "You are mine! You cannot escape me!" he said harshly.
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