‘Have there been other noblewomen taken prisoner?’ she asked. A shadow passed over his face. ‘Yes.’ ‘What happened to them? Were they return...d to their families?’ ‘Most of them.’ ‘Untouched?’ His haunted gaze met hers briefly and slid away. ‘Some.’ Jean-Pierre, Constance quickly found, was not muchly given to conversation. He passed his mornings in reading or in prayer, and drank himself to sleep each afternoon, where he’d remain dead to the world for hours on end. He rarely looked at her, not. I'm not sure how it works then. I love Willow, adore Willow and belong to Willow in every way possible, but I'd never call myself married to Willow. It's hard to explain, but a marriage doesn't seem to be enough for me. I need to be Willow's. Well, Willow and Erica's since they do share everything, including a brain sometimes.Oh, this is Violet writing. Louisa pretends she's too hoity-toity to write to other concubines. It's not really that, its more she doesn't know how she might relate to. More

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