Her Master's Desire
By Everly Ryan
3.5/5
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About this ebook
Shamed by secrets, Anne Meredith will do anything to fulfill her marriage contract to a mysterious Bavarian count. Even if it means submitting to Axel von Sommerhalder, the handsome stranger the count has enlisted to train her. She thinks the intimate punishments her trainer metes out will be a humiliating ordeal. Instead, as she finds herself surrendering to the dominant desires of a man forbidden to claim her, she discovers even more about herself than she ever dreamed possible.
Axel demands that his novice abandon every inhibition. But in doing so, they both embark on a dangerous journey, tempting each other's flesh, relishing every forbidden touch-and breaking every rule.
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Her Master's Desire - Everly Ryan
Her Master’s Desire
Everly Ryan
Shamed by secrets, Anne Meredith will do anything to fulfill her marriage contract to a mysterious Bavarian count. Even if it means submitting to Axel von Sommerhalder, the handsome stranger the count has enlisted to train her. She thinks the intimate punishments her trainer metes out will be a humiliating ordeal. Instead, as she finds herself surrendering to the dominant desires of a man forbidden to claim her, she discovers even more about herself than she ever dreamed possible.
Axel demands that his novice abandon every inhibition. But in doing so, they both embark on a dangerous journey, tempting each other's flesh, relishing every forbidden touch-and breaking every rule.
Her Master’s Desire
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Her Master’s Desire Copyright © 2017 Everly Ryan
Edited by Kelli Collins
Cover art by Debra Glass
Electronic book publication February 2017
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Everly Ryan.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
HER MASTER’S DESIRE
Everly Ryan
Chapter One
The Bavarian Principality of Sommerhald, 1780
Anne Meredith flung open the coach window and breathed in the cold mountain air. In this part of the world, everything seemed fresh and crisp. Having grown up in England, she’d always assumed the Germanic people lived a harsh existence in their wild and barbaric landscape. Knowing so little of these people, she’d been pleasantly surprised to discover how continentally fashionable Bavaria’s aristocracy could be. Most spoke eloquent French and English with an impeccable fluency that astonished Anne. And while untamed, the loveliest fairy-book castles she’d ever seen nestled amongst the Alpen crags.
Even though this new land intrigued her, melancholy coiled around her heart and squeezed. Doubt surged that she’d ever see her London home or English family again.
Anne had given all that up to come here.
Her spine flattened against the back of the seat as the coach climbed yet another steep and winding mountain road. Here, she would be a countess—the Bavarian equivalent of princess. She inhaled deeply, smiling at the thought of it. Countess Anne.
Princess Anne.
The only problem was that she’d entered into an engagement with a man she’d never met. All she knew about him was his rank, his name, that he was several years older than she—and that he was indecently wealthy.
Count Georg von Sommerhalder.
Anne shivered with delight at the prospect of such a lofty title. In her dreams, she’d envisioned Count von Sommerhalder as a tall, rugged blond. She knew, however, better than to hope. At fifty-two, he was likely bent, bald and decrepit. She sighed. Few women had the luxury of marrying for love and with her being the last of the Meredith line, Anne literally had no choice in the matter at all.
A distant cousin waited to inherit the family estate, and after her older sister had scandalized them all by eloping with a low sort, Anne’s chances of making a good match in England dwindled somewhere between slim and none. Most women in her predicament would become a governess with the hope of ensnaring a wealthy widower but Anne had always had a devil of a time trying to read. The words looked all jumbled up to her. Even backward at times. And no matter how determined she was, she could not grasp reading.
The carriage climbed and climbed. Digging her nails into the plush seat, Anne closed her eyes and resisted the urge to look out the window, knowing the wheels clung precariously to the edge of the narrow mountain road. One misstep from the horses, and the coach, horses and everything would go plunging down the impossibly steep grade. The unmistakable sounds of rocks slipping and bounding downward filled Anne’s ears. She held her breath and prayed they would arrive at the castle soon.
She didn’t open her eyes until she felt the carriage lurch to a halt. Her lips parted at the sight. It was as if she’d entered an enchanted fairyland.
A footman raced to attach the steps and open the carriage door. Anne took the uniformed servant’s hand but her gaze drank in the towering castle. It’s breathtaking!
she exclaimed.
Welcome to Sommerhald, Miss Meredith,
he greeted in English.
Anne couldn’t tear her gaze from the sight of the castle spires soaring into the clouds or the dark lake winding through the valley far below. She had never imagined anything this astounding and could scarcely believe she was to be the mistress of all this grandeur.
A shiver compelled her to pull her fur cloak closer. When a cloud passed in front of the sun and shadowed the courtyard, Anne darkly recalled one mysterious clause in her marriage contract, which stated that in order to marry the count, she must submit to—and pass—training.
Submit to training…
What sort of training? Her German was passable. Her French, better. Deportment had been her forte. What more could there possibly be for her to learn? She hoped it wouldn’t be anything that required her to read because if it were, she would certainly fail.
All her musings fled when the massive doors opened and the count, followed by his vast entourage, rushed down the steps to greet her.
Anne!
the count welcomed.
She knew her expression betrayed her but she could not quell her relief that the count was far from the ogre she’d feared he would be. A wealth of white hair gleamed in the sunlight. His sumptuous fur cloak swirled around broad shoulders. Long strides brought him to her quickly.
Anne,
he said again, softly this time. With a curt bow, he grasped and kissed the back of her hand. His ice-colored eyes twinkled as he straightened and smiled.
Count von Sommerhalder,
she greeted as she dipped into a curtsy.
I trust your journey was an easy one,
he said in flawless English.
Yes. Very enjoyable. Thank you.
Another man approached and by the way the count’s courtiers separated to allow him through, Anne knew he was of some import. Staring seemed unladylike but Anne could not tear her gaze from him.
Every bit as tall as the count, he looked to be a much younger version of Anne’s betrothed. Untethered, his black hair wisped around his firm jawline. Dark eyes flashed from underneath brooding eyebrows as he pinned her with an icy stare. His lips, though full and sensuous, stretched into a taut, cross line.
Anne shivered.
Ah, Anne, this is my nephew,
the count introduced.
Axel von Sommerhalder,
the younger man ground out and then bowed low.
Anne curtsied once more, and this time she was not greeted with a continental kiss on the hand but instead an even colder glare. She could only guess about the count’s nephew’s apparent disdain for her. Doubtless, he did not look forward to his uncle siring more heirs who would push him further from the seat of power. It didn’t matter, Anne reminded herself. She was not here to please this man. Still, his obvious scorn left her unsettled and on edge.
Come inside,
the count encouraged, arresting her attention away from his nephew. After you rest, you will begin your training.
Anne bit her bottom lip. I would like to ask you about that,
she began