Don’t get me wrong, I love kids. Nothing warmed my heart more than hearing my four-year-old niece yelling “Uncle De De” when I came home to Morg...nwg, the estate in Cardiff, or hearing my baby nephew giggle when I picked him up. And I know how important it was now that Angus was this shy of thrity-five to have an heir, someone to pass on everything he and his ancestors had sustained while other British aristocrats and European royals had frittered away and diminished ancestry into useless. As kids, we were inseparable. We did everything together short of having sex together. I won’t deny that I had thought about that from time to time. Having sex with him, I mean. Carl worked out with weights and had a body that any girl would drool over. He was an Adonis. His whole body rippled with muscles. Hell, it always seemed to me that his muscles had muscles. All the girls at school chased after him but it was me that he preferred to spend his time with even though I was three years. More

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