About the Rococo Singles
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Each Rococo Single is part of an erotic collection (available as Rococo) from the final days before the French Revolution. The entries reveal the hidden lives of several of France’s well-born daughters – Beatrice, a willful noblewoman in lust with her mother’s groom; Gabrielle, a virgin who surrenders to a masked lover; Lucille, a brazen temptress playing the repentant sinner; Veronique, a master manipulator betrayed by her own desires; and Candacis, one third of a forbidden love triangle. (Visit annvremont.blogspot.com for reading order.)
Married off to an English duke, Anne-Marie finds herself bound to a monster, her only chance of escape a man whose family she has betrayed. (5800 words)
It is done! I will not record my actions here for another to use against me. Nor shall the day fade from memory before death shuts my eyes. It is enough to say that I am bound now for Guaymas, by way of landfall at Tabasco, and that I do not travel alone.
According to the ship’s registry, we travel as man and wife. The truth is altogether different. There are marks on her face, not mine, but his. She is quiet. Humbled. She claims she owes me her life. Does that not make two lives she owes me? Or even three, for I have done something I did not think myself capable of.
But I will not write of that, though the need to claws at me. Nor will I speak of it despite the questions I see always hovering in her stormy gaze.
What else lingers in that gaze? Already I am damned for wanting to know. And how she torments me with comparisons absently spoken like some idiot child.
“You are so like her.”
“You read like her.”
“You write like her.”
“We are not the same,” I tell her each time.
“I know…you are a man.”
And in that regard she finds me like him. My hand at her elbow makes her cringe, my fingertips at the small of her back bring her stiff and straight. She fears me…and well she should, having seen what I am capable of. But I would not hurt her, though I hate and want her in the same breath, the same heartbeat.