This is one of Sandra Brown's earlier books way back when she was writing historical romances instead of mysteries. I read this book years ago after reading rave upon rave about how fantastic, how romantic, how wonderful, how classic a romance, etc. I found it disturbing, horrific and migraine inducing. The hero is this sullen, angry, vindictive brute of a man who infuriated me page after page. Ten years later I *still* remember what a cretin I thought him and that's saying a lot since some days I can't remember my own name.