Piers Larne had learned to hide his feelings behind a mask of bitter indifference and a large decanter of brandy. But the sight of the heiress his father was forcing him to wed sobered the viscount's dissolute soul. Her silvery blond hair and flawless pale skin could lure a man to madness. Not that Vivian Marleigh would be a willing bride; her hatred for him shone clearly from eyes the color of moonlight on water. But she could not very well refuse. Long ago, the shock of her mother's death had robbed her of the power of speech, and the delicate beauty could not say what was in her heart. It was up to Piers to spark the fires that would melt her icy reserve, and teach her the pleasures that await those who seek only passion and Speak Only Love.