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Marcus of Windom stood alone in an empty castle without Lady Liana by his side. The frigid winds of the Yule Season pressed upon him. He pulled the parchment from whence he carried it and read her chilling parting words once again. I can no longer live as your lady-wife… If ever she returned would her sensual warmth be enough to melt the ice she had caused to form around his broken heart?
As he warmed himself by the central fire, Marcus remembered Christmastides past. Castle Windom fairly bustled with kindled fires and crowded activity. The merriment echoed inside the walls and hid in dark rafters along side the pained memories of his Liana.
Marcus downed a tankard of ale and held back the sentiment threatening to pour forth from him. A lonely Twelfth Night neared. Unbidden thoughts of Liana nudged him. Haunted as he was by the sensual way her lithe body pressed into his naked skin, the touch of her hand slipping down to caress him, her eyes as they darkened when she opened and took him inside her.
But no more…
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