The Long Veil

Three years ago my husband died on the road to Tours.

Tonight I learned he sold me before he ever met me.

I am standing in a candlelit hall older than France itself. The dress is not mine. The men around me will hunt me through the Loire woods at dawn.

There are four of them. One is older. He calls me petite like a prayer he has been saying for years. Another looks at me like he already knows the shape of my mouth. A third has loved me from across a painting since I was twenty-three. The last one has not yet spoken my name. When he does, he will tell me he killed my husband.

For one year I will belong to all four of them. By spring I will know which one is lying to me. By summer I will not care. By autumn I will be the one doing the hunting.

The Long Veil. A Dark Why Choose Masquerade Romance. Book One of the Long Veil Trilogy. Heat 5. On-page consent before each scene. Dub-con flirt within consent.