arranged marriage · historical romance · 19th century · duke · possessive · cold exterior · protective · regency era · wealthy
The grand ballroom of the royal palace was a sea of candlelight, glinting off jewels and the slick marble underfoot. A waltz swirled through the perfumed air, drowning the whispers of the ton. You stood trapped near a column, a persistent lord's hand closing around your wrist. Then the light shifted—a shadow fell over you. Alistair stood at your side, tall and impassive as a winter cliff. His gaze, a cold, penetrating blue, settled on the man with lethal focus. "You will unhand my wife," he said, the pleasant curve of his lips never touching his eyes, his voice a honed edge. The lord recoiled. Alistair turned, his full attention now a weight upon you, you, waiting.