Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book? *

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

What moment from the book you enjoyed the most? *

It can be a character, a scene, a trait, or anything, you have enjoyed.

Did you like Rosaline's character? *

• I loved how strong and dedicated she was to her family. I enjoyed to read about her.
• Not so much. I though she was too naive and became truly selfish when she gave the scandal sheets the information about Owen & Althea.

Do you think Owen (and Althea) forgave Rosaline too quickly in the end? *

• I'd say yes. She did something unforgivable, and I think she deserved to spend more time redeeming for it, instead of being forgiven so easily by everyone.
• She suffered enough, in my opinion. And since everything turned out well with Althea and her colonel Thomas, there was no need for everyone to be mad at her for too long.

Anything else you'd like to share?

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Two years later…

“Don’t come in yet! And keep your eyes closed!” Owen called through the door.

“Oh, honesty, what are you up to?” Rosaline said, exasperated as she waited for her husband’s answer outside the library door.

“A surprise!” Owen called back through the door.

“We’ve been wed for nearly two years, do you not think we are a little beyond childish surprises?” Rosaline laughed, her hand caressing her swollen belly. She was nearly five months along with child. She had woken that morning to a note on Owen’s pillow, telling her to come to the library. She had naturally rushed as fast as she could manage, simply throwing her housecoat over her night dress.

“Just wait until you see what I have in store for you,” Owen chuckled, opening the door to smile down at his wife. “Good morning, my love, come in.”

Rosaline rolled her eyes and took her husband’s hand, letting him guide her into the library. She gasped when she saw what he had prepared. He had moved the most comfortable couch in front of the fire, had strewn it with rose petals, and put bouquets of roses, all of different colors, all around the room.

“Oh, Owen, what have you done?” Rosaline gasped.

“Our anniversary, my love,” Owen said, lifting her hand to his lips to press a soft kiss against her wedding ring.

“Our wedding anniversary is not for three weeks,” Rosaline said, shaking her head.

“Not that anniversary, this anniversary,” Owen said softly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “The anniversary of the night we spent together in the library. This time, I wanted to create the perfect atmosphere.”

“Oh?” Rosaline raised her eyebrow. “The perfect atmosphere for what?”

“For what you have been needing most days, my darling,” Owen whispered against her ear, and Rosaline shivered from head to toe. She had been experiencing heightened desire with her pregnancy and eagerly leaned up to take his mouth gently, to kiss him sweetly and fiercely, his tongue a delicious, teasing slide. She heard Owen groan softly, knew that he was relishing the confidence with which she kissed him. She leaned back and raised her eyebrows in a challenge.

“Will you give me what I need? Husband?” she breathed softly.

“Immediately, wife,” Owen chuckled, tugging Rosaline’s hand, and guiding her over to the couch. She smiled when she realized that he had chosen this couch in particular because of its comfort and ease for her slowly growing body, and was happy when he settled back, pulling her astride his lap. Rosaline could not help the feeling of excitement when she felt Owen firm and ready for her through his nightshirt. She didn’t stop herself from rocking forward, tugging his shirt up to reveal his bare legs.

“Do you remember that night?” she asked breathlessly, lifting Owen’s nightshirt up over his head until he was glorious and bare beneath her, her loving husband, exactly what she wanted and needed.

“I do,” Owen murmured, untying her house coat, and letting it slide off her shoulders, rubbing his warm hands up her bare arms. Owen then set his hands on Rosaline’s knees, sliding hands up under her nightdress to grip her hips. Rosaline took a shuddering breath, knowing full well that holding still, feeling him ready beneath her, would only fuel her desire. Owen leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder, moving his lips to her exposed throat. “Even without the firelight we had that night, you seem to glow, dear wife.”

Rosaline held his gaze unflinchingly as he stroked down the narrow strip of skin at her throat to where the top button of her night dress was loose. Rosaline’s breath caught in her throat.

“And yet how much more beautifully you glow with nothing on,” Owen murmured.

Rosaline felt color rise high on her cheeks with his every word and touch. His eyes, his sharp, blue eyes were so fixated and delighted. As he unbuttoned each button, he deliberately kept his fingers from stroking her skin, except for the occasional glancing gaze with each button, until it was open to the waist. Rosaline trembled, clutching at his shoulders for balance, her eyes falling shut as she waited for his touch. The babe growing inside her had made her skin all the more sensitive, all the more responsive, and Owen had told her over and over how much sweeter it had made their lovemaking. Rosaline found she reveled in the slow devouring of her flesh, enjoying every flicker of desire.

“Look at me,” Owen said, voice low and deep, and she couldn’t stop herself from keening softly. She leaned into his barely-there touch at her collarbone, her back arching as she slowly opened her eyes. Owen smiled at her softly, rewarding her gently by brushing his hand from her throat down to the beginning swell of her belly and back up, knuckles sliding against skin.

“Owen,” Rosaline breathed gently, unable to keep her eyes open as he slid his hand around her neck and into her tumbling mass of red curls. Her head fell back, pressing into his palm like a cat’s. She could not help herself from arching her back again, knowing her hardening nipples were pressing against the thin cotton of her half-open night gown. With her eyes closed she could still hear his audible swallow and felt a swell of satisfaction. Even after two years, she still pleased him.

“Rosaline,” Owen called gently, and Rosaline forced herself to reopen her eyes, trembling anew, breath ragged in her throat. Owen kept one hand in her hair while the other stroked the bare skin at her throat as he watched her carefully. She knew he was watching her arousal, enjoying the flush and glow of it. It made her feel powerful and honored, to have this power over her husband. To know that he watched every change in her body with wonderment. “You truly are a rose. The color of your skin . . .”

Owen cupped her breast tenderly, with a touch that was more warmth than pressure, perfect for what she needed. Rosaline whimpered softly, her nails biting into his bare shoulders, her body quivering with unashamed desire. Owen touched her again, his hand holding the new heaviness of her changing breasts. Rosaline knew how he admired the fullness of her fertile flesh, and could not resist pushing forward into his palm, encouraging a firmer touch. His thumb flickered over her nipple, a tantalizing touch that Rosaline couldn’t stop herself from gasping at. She wanted to give in to the hunger of it, to come apart in front of him, but she was also aching for more. She could not stop her hips from pulsating slowly, unconsciously, against his taut, naked flesh.

“Owen,” Rosaline whispered, her voice strained. “Please.”

“What is you command, dear wife?” Owen chuckled, nipping his teeth against her collarbone playfully.

“Touch me,” Rosaline begged, her hips beginning to strain against him.

“I am,” Owen breathed, fitting his fingers around her nipple in a way that always drove Rosaline wild with desire and need. Her hips stuttered, and she could not stop her back from bowing towards him as she slumped, her belly nudging him. The babe inside pressed against him. She was overwhelmed with the sensation of the wonder of it, that she was his, and they were his, entirely. She could feel her own dampness, her own desire, slick between them. He groaned. “How could I not touch you, beloved Rose?”

“Owen,” Rosaline moaned, sliding her hips against his, unable to stop herself grinding down against him with wanton abandon. Rosaline tipped her mouth to his shoulder, giving him a firm bite in warning.

“Do not maul me, little temptress,” Owen gasped, his hand gripping her hair so tightly it hurt a little, but that only encouraged Rosaline more. “Tell me what you desire.”

“You do not know?” Rosaline growled in frustration, voice cracking under the pressure.

“Hmm, is it my mouth? My hand? My . . .” Owen said teasingly.

“You,” Rosaline gasped, pressing her own hand against Owen’s as it continued to tease her breast, encouraging a firm explosion of sensation inside her. Owen shrugged her hand off gently, just as he moved to push his firmness up inside, finally delivering the pressure she needed, easing the constant near ache inside her. Rosaline bit her lip and moved against him, rocking, thrusting, her forehead dropping down to his shoulder again.

“Let me see you, love,” Owen breathed in her ear. “After all, this is why I requested the best seat in the house.”

Rosaline looked at him again, nearly lost in pleasure, her hair tumbling wild around her shoulders. She looked down into her husband’s eyes, hunger and love so bright in those blue gems. He rocked up into her, hand clenched in her hair, and fingers tight around her nipple. It was perfect, it was exactly what Rosaline needed, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how well her husband knew her body. She tried to keep her eyes open for him as he leaned up to kiss her, pinching her just as firmly as she wanted, making her groan into his mouth.

“Keep looking at me, my darling,” Owen whispered. Rosaline tried her best, but she knew this was a game she was destined to lose. Her eyes fluttered shut as he thrust softly, then deeply, then just fast enough that a white light began to unfurl inside her mind. Since she had become pregnant, Rosaline’s pleasure had been fast in coming, as breathless and ravenous as a wild beast, possessing her soul. It left her gasping and mewling, unable to stop her hips from snapping against him as pleasure filled her. She shattered into his arms with a heart-deep groan, and Owen’s mouth was on hers. She surged against him, her kisses more ravenous than ever, clutching at his naked shoulders as she pressed as close as she could, hoping to make him feel each tremor of pleasure as it shook through her.

“You,” Rosaline gasped, arching her back and pushing her belly against him, so they were completely connected. At that moment they were all as close as they possibly could be, husband, wife, and still-forming babe. “You now, my darling.”

Owen groaned deeply, releasing his hands from her hair and breast to snatch the nightdress off over her head and press his face into her chest, breathing heavily against the damp skin, and Rosaline clutched the back of his head, thrusting against him, giving him exactly what she knew he needed. Unexpectedly, Rosaline felt her own pleasure peaking again, and she gasped, tossing her head back and feeling a fresh wave of delicious spasms flowing through her. Owen gasped, cursed, and then began to shake, coming apart in her arms, deep inside her.

“I love you, my Rose, my sweetest Rose,” he muttered breathlessly as Rosaline’s thrusts became languid and relaxed. She was suddenly, completely, exhausted. “Hold onto me.”

Owen caught her as she began to sway clumsily, losing her balance and slumping into his arms, her mouth pressed against his collarbone.

“I shall always hold onto you,” she whispered.

“Come,” he breathed, gently lifting her hips to separate them, and then guiding Rosaline down so they were lying on the couch, her back pressed against his chest and his hands moving around to cup her belly.

“That was a very satisfactory anniversary celebration,” Rosaline whispered, pressing her own hand over his.

“You speak as if it were over, my love,” Owen chuckled, his hand drifting down to the crease of her hip.

“Oh, do you have plans, darling husband?” Rosaline joked, twisting her head around so he could capture her lips and kiss her deeply. Their mouths were clumsy and lazy, their hands and movements slow. Rosaline loved these moments in the flush of love, the precious tenderness of them, when they were hazy and happy, voices low and whispering.

“Yes, terrible, horrible plans,” Owen whispered against her lips. “I plan to spend the whole day in here with my wife. If she is amenable?”

“She shall be,” Rosaline joked, brushing her nose against his. “Though only if you ensure that food is provided.”

“Well, of course, I know how to look after my wife when she is expecting,” Owen said in mock outrage. “We had best work up an appetite, my darling.”

Owen began to kiss slowly down her back, each kiss precious and delicious. Rosaline hummed and arched, enjoying the feeling of being caught between Owen’s hand on her belly and his lips on her spine.

“We may also need to discuss some things,” Rosaline breathed gently.

“Does now seem the correct time?” Owen asked, voice muffled as his lips moved against her hips.

“Well, there was news yesterday that I have not had time to tell you,” Rosaline said, trying not to be distracted by the feeling of his tongue moving against her skin. “You recall that Marc has been courting Miss Boyle?”

“I recall something of the sort,” Owen said sarcastically. Rosaline smirked at her husband’s tone. He had been very wearied by Rosaline and Marc’s constant discussions about his intentions and hopes for his long-standing friendship with Miss Boyle.

“Well, he has declared his intentions,” Rosaline said breathlessly as Owen turned his attentive lips to her inner thighs. “In the newspaper. He wrote a letter.”

“Oh, really?” Owen looked up, and then shook his head, pressing his cheek against her belly as if to listen to the child within. “Nobody does it like you do, my dearest Rose.”

“You flatterer,” Rosaline giggled. “You hopeless romantic. Who would ever believe you once had the reputation of a rake?”

“Hush, you,” Owen said in mock consternation, pressing a kiss to her swollen belly. “I am focusing on my second favorite person. Hello, my sweet flower.”

Rosaline glowed with joy and happiness to watch Owen caress her belly, to speak to the most beloved child within. Almost as if the child knew he was speaking to it, the babe inside rolled and moved under his touch. Owen’s face was a picture of joy, of delight, and contentment.

“My precious flower,” he whispered, caressing her belly in wonderment. “How I cannot wait to see your face.”

“You know, if our child is a boy then you may regret calling him your precious flower,” Rosaline said with an indulgent smile.

“She is a precious flower,” Owen said, and Rosaline giggled. Owen was very hopeful that their growing child was a little girl. The only names he had picked out were female, and though she knew he would love a boy and an heir to the Lennox line, she appreciated what he was doing. As the only female child to her parents, she knew he wanted her to know that any first-born girl of theirs would be just as loved and cherished. “What do you think of the name Lily?”

“You only pick floral names,” Rosaline teased.

“That is not true,” Owen objected, kissing her belly again. “I also liked the name Aphrodite.”

“Very practical,” Rosaline said, rolling her eyes but reaching down to stroke her husband’s hair. “I was thinking . . . what of the name James for our son?”

Owen’s eyes shot up to catch hers. She had been nervous about mentioning her idea of naming their first-born son for Owen’s much beloved, lost father. She had hoped it would not carry sad connotations for him, but from the wide smile that appeared on her husband’s face, she could tell he was not displeased.

“I like it,” Owen said softly, caressing the slowly moving child inside her. “James. Hello, little duke. Or little flower. I love you.”

“We love you too,” Rosaline whispered. “So much, my darling. We would follow you anywhere.”

“Ah, no,” Owen said, rising up on his arms to hover above her lips, a wide, joyous smile playing on his lips. “Your days of following in my footsteps are long over.”

“Oh, really?” Rosaline whispered, closing her eyes as her husband’s lips ghosted gently against her own. She tried to memorize the moment, their bare skin, their moving child, their perfect, lovely family so close together. She hoped it would always be this way, prayed it would be, forever.

“Yes,” Owen said, kissing her gently and smiling against her lips. “Now we shall walk everywhere together. Side by side.”

“Side by side,” Rosaline repeated, wrapping her arms around her husband. “Forever.”

If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…

Peter Humphries used to have it all, basking in the warmth of love and success. But, alas, fate’s fickle fingers conspired against him, as war took his sight and shattered his world. With a caring heart, Medea Lingfield sought to alleviate Peter’s burden by offering him comfort in her embrace. Despite being cruelly rejected by the man she had grown to care about, she resolved to put the past behind her and move on. But fate had other plans, and when Peter and Medea cross paths again due to a scandalous turn of events, the dormant embers of their passion are reignited. However, when a third person is introduced into the equation, their love may not survive the test…

A Scandal to Seduce the Duke