Abby couldn’t speak as the Duke approached. Her head tipped back to accommodate the difference in their height, and her vision was filled with the image of shoulder-length black hair, eyes the color of the Aegean Sea, and a face carved with a sculptor’s perfection. Beautiful. It was the only word that came to mind to describe the magnificence of the man facing her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to my home." The Duke bowed low and taking Abby’s hand, pressed a kiss against her knuckles. She shivered at the touch, while his voice mesmerized her—pure silk.

"Thank you for your hospitality," she finally managed to say.

"The pleasure is all mine. We have much to discuss." He placed his hand on the small of her back, and heat spiraled low in her abdomen.

Entranced, Abby couldn’t think of one eloquent word to say. "We do?"

"We do. I will explain everything shortly." The smooth, cultured tones were infinitely polite, charming. Still, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"You act like you know me."

"I do know you. You are a reporter, and you’ve come to Castle Lehr because you wish to write about my home, to explore its intricacies, and to discover what lies within its walls. But much more than that, you’ve come to find what has been missing in your life."

Abby stared at him, her eyes narrowing. He spoke with calm assurance. It rattled her somewhat. "Part of that is true, but I also came to interview you. I believe you told my editor you would agree to a meeting with me."

With pure grace and charm, the man smiled. "You’ll have plenty of time to refresh my memory."

The nerves had returned, dancing within her stomach like mating butterflies. "Have you been drinking, Your Grace?"

The smile remained firmly intact as he extended his hand toward a silk brocade settee. "Please sit and I will explain." He walked across the plush, trackless carpet.

"I’ll stand, thank you."

The Duke inclined his head. "As you wish. You are a successful writer, but this castle has haunted you for years. You dream about it at night, about the love you would find within its walls." He strolled toward the window, and Abby heard the whisper of his linen shirt against broad shoulders.

Her panties grew damp as confusion wrapped around her. She barely knew the man. How could she respond like this? And furthermore, why wasn’t she negating what he said?

"And you have dreamed about me for even longer." The Duke’s voice drew her out of her ruminations, and she jerked suddenly, taking a backward step toward the door.

"How do you know these things?"

"Abigail," the Duke’s voice was softly insistent, compelling her to turn around.

He was so close. How had he gotten behind her? His eyes glittered like blue diamonds set against a bed of black silk, and she sensed the danger even as she looked into the liquid pools. "Who are you?"

"I am your destiny."

Abby stared at him a brief moment longer before her legs gave way and darkness enveloped her.