From Sacrificial Lamb To His Queen

phin

off th

or one singular purpose: to become the chosen mistress of Lord Gideon Carlisle and bear him the heir he so desperately needed. The sound o

ched down and untied the sash at my waist. The heavy fabric of my maid's uniform slipped smoothly p

e of my waist. In the crisp morning light filtering through the chamber window

waist. Instead, their sharp, evaluating gazes were fixed firmly on my hips-which were noticeably fuller than

e. "She has the wide hips of a fertile breeder, perfect for carrying a child. Furthermore, having been raised under your st

a calculating smile gracing her impeccably maintained features. "S

, though the Duchess's words made my head sp

ady betrothed, Your Grace. I beg for your mercy, I had pleaded. The House of Carlisle had always prided itself on its magnanimity toward its servants; though displeased, the Duchess h

a decrepit, eighty-year-old baron just to drain me of my worth. In my past life, I was naive and obedient, only t

e walls of this mighty castle at any cost. I will climb into Lord Gideon's bed, weaponize his absolute power and pro

atic memories down, pressing my forehead against the hard floor in a display of profound deference. "I am foreve

mbitious grin like other shameless harlots mig

out an heir. If you can bear a male Dragon-b

e and yearning to touch my eyes. Seeing this, she nodded in deep approval. This was exactly what she wanted-a servant driven e

e, can easily dismiss you," Duchess Eleanor continued. She slid a he

my eyes. "Thank you for elevating me, Your Grace. I swear to

to the floor one last time

my eyes, replaced by a freezing detachment. I caught the envious stares of the

ended and marry a decent man. Lord Gideon and Lady Helena had been married for three years, and neither she nor his two other highborn concubines had produced a single child. Either somethi

iarch. Given her iron-fisted methods, she would undoubtedly dispose of the lowborn mo

d, why would I ever willing

arlisle to shield me from the bloodsucking leeches I called a family. Su

warlord who valued order above all else. If he refused to touch me tonight, by morning I would be the laughi

erate memories of my past life, recalling every trick of survival I had ever learned. I began to calculate in my min

ing jasmine, I was dressed in a gossamer-thin silk shift that clung to my damp skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. The sheer fabric

silk, aching with a mixture of dread and fierce determination. Every time the heavy oak door rattled in the wind, a shiver wrecked through my core, sending a rush of heat between my thighs. I was a virgin offerin