War Chest — Lynne Connolly

Make love, not war? Try telling that to the god of war.

Bearing little resemblance to her beautiful sister Rhea made it easy for Ruth to secure the job of governess to the Duke of Lyndhurst's wards. The babies are Rhea's. Rhea is dead. And Ruth's suspicions are aimed squarely at the powerful, magnificent, brooding duke. At the very least, she means to ensure her sister's twins are raised properly. A task she suspects is beyond the duke, who wanders away at night, comes to dinner disheveled, and stirs desires she's never felt before. Marcus isn't just the Duke of Lyndhurst. He is Mars, god of war, and his nightly dinners with Ruth-during which he allows her to ask him one question-are his only respite from his desperate struggle with the Titans. Little does the drably dressed, socially inept woman realize she is a constant temptation to him-and he is losing the battle to resist. But if he allows her to break the chains around his heart, their love will make her a target in a fight to the death.

Warning: Beware of tall, dark men who roam houses at night. Don't, whatever you do, stop to kiss them.