Prologue

The heavy oak door opened into the castle study and Justine and her personal servant entered.

At forty-six, Justine was still a strikingly beautiful woman. Her face was as soft and pleasantly sculpted as ever and her figure as svelte and curvaceous as it had been twenty-seven years ago when she had first set foot in Castle Ragonian. Perhaps because the breasts were larger, more prominent now and her hips even more sensuously full it could be argued she was even more beautiful than ever.

Her robe was of floor length but parted sensuously at the top to provide more than a modicum of cleavage.

"Have you seen Erik?" she asked.

"As you will recall, the count is "engaged" at the moment with Ramona."

"Ramona? My but Erik does seem to favor her, doesn't he?"

"Can you blame him? She is a beauty."

"So are our other daughters," she said a bit curtly.

"True, but they will each get their turn."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Now that all four are of breeding age and his own cycle approaching, I expect to see a lot of white hair."