"You...you murdered her!" Pascale remained silent as the prosecutor repeated he accusation. To defend herself demanded revealing a family secret—a pact of silence that had been kept for eight long years. She couldn't do it ... she couldn't betray Remi! After all, he belonged to one of the most respected families in Paris. When she had been hired by the Sevriers, she had regarded them as highly as anyone did. She had not expected to find evil lurking just below the surface. Nor had she expected to find love ... a love entangled with terror and heartbreak. And now she was on trial for murder!

"Your husband will never find you..." In the desolate mountain fortress, Marion Maresco tried to piece together the shattered remnants of her life. But her precious calm was soon swallowed up in a maelstrom of intrigue and trickery, which swarmed through the ancient walls of Castel Terralba. Not the least of her problems was the fiercely handsome Marquis, Don Carlo de Terralba, who did not suspect the real reason for Marioun's sudden appearance in remote Sardinia. Fearing detection, Marion attempted to escape another situation that had become unbearable to her. But no one escaped the Marquis!

"My darling, I know you'll understand..." But Anne didn't understand when her fiancé suggested that she become his mistress, not his wife. Stunned, she left him and steeled her heart against love's pain forever. But her carefully constructed world was shattered years later by the mere sound of his alluring voice. Fearing her heart might yet answer his call, she fled from him... into a nightmare! Entangled in a web of intrigue and danger, she was swept across Austria, Greece and Turkey. Her survival depended upon the elusive, dangerous man she was now afraid to love.

"There's something I have to tell you..." For weeks the tiny fishing village had been aflame with rumors about the mysterious stranger who walked the beaches every day. Why had he come? What was he after? Only Marie had broken through the reserve he had wrapped around himself like protective armor. "It's a long story," he said quietly. "A story I didn't want to tell anyone, especially you." When he had finished, Marie could not hold back her tears. She wept for him, and for the townsfolk.

"Whose side are you on?" Yvette was desperate. She was in Bulgaria on her honeymoon. Her husband had disappeared. She didn't know anyone. She didn't speak the language. Convinced that Roussev, the tour guide, knew a great deal more than he had told her, she had finally cornered this alluring elusive man. She demanded the truth. She got more than she had bargained for. When Roussev was finished there were tears of rage in Yvette's eyes. He had accused her husband of something too terrible to imagine.

"Who sent you to spy on me?" Jeanne's eyes widened in astonishment as her employer's face turned livid. "I demand an answer, some names," he raged. "I know you're out to destroy me." Stunned by his accusation, Jeanne felt her fear of this man growing. They were alone in his office. It was late at night. Bruno Grandmont was acting like a madman. She cringed before him. The incredible possibility dawned on her. Perhaps the most famous lawyer in Paris was a madman.

She wanted love. Not heartache... or worse! Helen Lefeuvre returned to her hometown of Clermont with the hope of kindling a flame in the heart of Vincent Chazelles. For ten years, she had been nourishing her love for this attractive man. Now she meant to turn this youthful infatuation into a solid future. But Vincent had other ideas on the matter. Bitter and detached after the death of his beloved wife, he preferred to remain aloof from all social contact. Only his two sons were important to him. In her efforts to meet Vincent again, Helen found herself enmeshed in a web of intrigue, where smuggling and treachery were not the worst of her problems. There was also a case of murder.

Suddenly I knew who the killer was... There he sat, across the table from me, without a shadow of expression on his face. There was no doubt that he had every reason to hate Christabel: her self-serving schemes had ruined him. But was that hatred so overpowering it had to lead to cold-blooded murder? Then, as I stared unbelievingly at him, I felt a deeper, even greater suffering. I couldn't bear the pain if he was guilty. For I loved him with all my heart!