It’s a pretty common, even trite, observation that people often mistake lust for love. The characters in this book seem to have the same problem at times. While the “erotic” in this erotic medieval romance comes through very clearly, the “romance” is a little less obvious. The characterizations in the book simply are not complex enough to make the romance believeable, and in the end, I could not suspend enough disbelief for this one to work for me.

Aleysia of Braemere has already seen her family home Braemere fall to the Normans. The Norman baron originally sent to claim it treated her family horribly. Now he’s dead and as a result, Aleysia’s twin brother Adelstan is wanted for treason. Renaud de Wulf, the Norman sent to reclaim Braemere, has fought hard to win it, and ends by caputuring Adelstan. Aleysia, fearing for her brother’s life, offers herself to Renaud in order to save him.

One of Renaud’s first thoughts upon meeting Aleysia is how much he would like to “toss her over his shoulder…and f*** her until she was panting beneath him.” Gentle readers might take this as their first hint that Renaud is not the relatively well-mannered hero to whom romance readers have become accustomed in recent years. While Renaud does have some good qualities, readers will also note some throwbacks to the “love at first rape” romances of old as Renaud promptly accepts Aleysia’s bargain and wastes no time divesting her of her virginity.

From there, the story advances with a mixture of Aleysia’s attempts to secure safety and possibly even freedom for Adelstan and herself while she and Renaud proceed to have constant sex that becomes more mutually sought out. There is affectionate sex, quick sex, and that good old standby “I don’t trust you out of my sight, but you are so hot I can’t keep my hands off you” sex. Somehow, from all this, Aleysia and Renaud grow very fond of each other, but the characterizations just aren’t wrought subtly enough for this to be entirely believable.

Renaud is definitely far kinder to Aleysia by the second half of the book than he is at the beginning, but readers don’t get to see inside his head enough to figure out what has brought about the change. In addition, while I don’t generally require major groveling by heroes, there is definitely a distinct shortage of groveling here given a situation that clearly requires major groveling (and for many, even repentance might not be enough). Though lushly written, the “love” scenes that first introduce us to Aleysia and Renaud’s relationship are uncomfortably close to the coercive scenarios of old. For some readers, such behavior will never be excusable, but even for those who will allow a hero to move on from such a beginning, I would think some major making of amends would be in order. And in a romance with fairly thin characterizations, the author’s attempts to do this just don’t resonate the way they need to.

Templeton’s writing is lush and readable if distinctly modern in feel and there is a secondary romance later in the book that somewhat rescues the novel. Quite frankly, I found those secondary characters far more endearing than the primary couple. Renaud and Aleysia certainly have a certain chemistry between them, but while the lust is easy to see, the love is a little harder to believe in, making this a rather less than average read.