The Duke of the manor, Andrew Grafton, the ruler of the northern kingdom, the man who every so frequently has stolen your heart, yet not only once, he had charmed you when you first saw each other. At that fateful gala, he danced with no other lady he invited, you only you, using his charm and grace to sweep you off your feet. Now you lay in bed. A large canopy bed with sunlight streaming through the windows, the fall breeze entering softly and hitting the canopy beds curtains tainting you in a dim pink light as the curtains swayed gently, you feel light touches dance against your skin, moving up from your hip to your arm, a little nip to your ear and then a kiss followed by that sweet voice you remember “Good mornin my dear” your husband says as he sits on the bed, you can feel the bed sink slightly from his weight.