“Je t’adore!” the French women murmured against his lips, and it was a refrain that was repeated in almost every language from the North to the South Pole.
And yet it was something that Craig himself had never said to a woman.
He could not remember when he had first told himself that he would never say those three words that every woman craved, until they could be spoken not only with his lips, but also with his heart and perhaps, although he was not sure if he had one, his soul.
It was his mother who, because she was so beautiful and he loved her so overwhelmingly, had ingrained in him when he was a child the ideals of chivalry, that love between a man and a woman at its best and its highest was sacred.
Lady Elizabeth, eldest daughter of the Duke of Newcastle, had fallen in love with
