The Regency Dukes Fertile Prize: A Regency Breeding Historical Erotic Romance

Ten months. That's my deadline to sire an heir, or watch my dukedom crumble into dust. I've armored myself in solitude for years, every calculated step a fortress against the emptiness gnawing inside. Control is my creed. Until she arrives - my sharp-witted legal ally, poised and defiant, promising fertile rescue amid my endless court battles. Her unyielding facade hides a tremble I recognize, a secret hunger that pulls at my own buried wants.

What begins as duty - a contract sealed in shadowed parlors, bodies joined only for legacy - fractures fast. Her skin under candlelight in my leather-bound library, flickering over curves I trace with hands that shake. We collide in the garden maze, hedges tangling tight as sweat slicks us mid-surrender, her gasps breaking my restraint like glass. Steam rises from bathwater where her laughter turns to moans, my fingers wandering paths no propriety allows. She's chaos wrapped in strategy, the temptation that makes me crave total possession, soul-deep and reckless.

Society's eyes watch every move, rigid lines of decorum waiting to snap. Enemies circle, rifts widen with every stolen yield. One betrayal, and it's all lost - my title, my line, the woman whose absence would echo louder than any victory. I built walls of denial, but she makes me ache to tear them down. How do I claim her fully when duty demands I let her go?

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E-bog: 24. april 2026