The
Civil War had been hard on everyone, but Celia Weston felt as if
she personally had taken the brunt of it. Left alone on what had
once been her family’s beautiful estate, she had to scrimp
and scrape just to survive, reduced to living like an animal while
she tried to take care of her beloved mother, whose mind had been
crippled by her great losses.
Trey
Oaks had been occupied by all sorts during those long years, but
the worst was its last occupier – Aaron Denehy, who thought
that possession was a lot more than nine tenths of the law, and
that Celia’s body and soul came with the land he claimed as
his own.
Celia found herself subjugated by Aaron, treated no better than
a lady of easy virtue, barely better than the slaves the war had
freed.
He
spanked, belted or paddled her at the least sign of resistance,
but brought her to the heights of ecstasy that she hadn’t
known existed before his touch.
And
there was nowhere for Celia to escape to. It was her home, but he
was the Master.
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