She’d spend her entire life cloistered behind protective walls both physical and psychological in the care of her protective cousins. She’d been an object of pity, of well-meaning devotion that smothered more than it sheltered, of terrorizing manipulation being dangled as a prize in a battle for a crown. She’d never known emotion stronger than her fear until a fierce, claiming kiss on a moonlit night woke her to passion. She’d never known independence until she clasped a dangerous prince between her knees on her first wild motorcycle ride down a mountainside. She’d never realized her own strength until a hoarsely whispered, “Don’t let me fall” demanded it of her.
The timid girl clinging to the protection of others had evolved into a woman eager to embrace all the world offered, beginning with an impulsive trip to a dangerous city to support her prince now king.
If Brigit MacCreedy could see her now.
Since bonding, she’d felt driven by an almost ferocious need to provide whatever her mate needed be it comfort, support, or the one thing he desperately desired that she’d yet to supply. A child to cement their relationship and his legacy.