How could Jesselynn Harcourt look upon Alexander Sommerville, rakish son of a House her own had sworn to hate, and see anything more than the face of an enemy? Yet the man possessed a leonine glory that twisted her heart and set her soul on fire.
A desire hot enough to ignite the very night pounded in his blood every time Alexander beheld the lovely Jesselynn. Desire-and something more. A need to cherish and protect. To take to heart this iron maiden who defied any man to subdue her . . .