Ambrose Ward looked at Violet Ross. In the soft, amber glow of the bedside lamp, her tear-streaked face held a delicate, haunting beauty—a face like moonlight on still water. For a fleeting moment, as her eyes met his with a mixture of raw vulnerability and budding devotion, Ambrose felt his pulse quicken. A thousand unspoken possibilities flickered through his mind, and a less scrupulous man might have taken the opening. After all, she had just offered him anything he desired in exchange for her son’s future.
But Ambrose knew that if he crossed that line now, he would be no better than the wolf in gentleman's clothing she was trying to escape. To prey on her desperation would be a criminal waste of the trust he was trying to build. He wasn't a predator; he was the architect of a new orde
