When authors began leaving the Medieval romance for other genres, one of the saddest losses was Madeline Hunter. (Though that loss was certainly to the Regency/Victorian novel's gain.) I don't know precisely why the Medieval fell into disfavor, but I suspect it may have to do with readers becoming uncomfortable with the extreme power imbalances between class and sex that are inherent in the setting. And that's exactly why I miss Hunter in the subgenre.
Hunter never went full-on bodice ripper as, for example, Brenda Joyce did in The Conqueror. (A very entertaining book, if you're not sensitive to the disturbing elements.) Nor did she try to write as if power imbalances didn't really matter. Instead she used the tension caused by those imbalances to create stories that aren't only satisfying romance, but thematically fascinating. Two of my favorites explore the effect on love when one person is literally the property of another.
In By Possession, Moira is the illegitimate child of a lord and a serf; her father granted her freedom before his death, but she's unable to prove it. She's now the legal possession of Lord Addis de Valance, and to make things more complicated, she's loved him most of her life. But Moira has no intention of following in her mother's lonely, shameful footsteps, no matter how strong the temptation.
“Can you say that these hands misuse you, Moira, and that you are not willing?”
She sorrowfully extricated herself from his hold and stepped back. She hitched the blanket back on her shoulders and grasped it closed. “I am weak to the pleasure, but what you offer me will someday bring misery and I will not endure it. I swore when just a girl that I would not be any man's whore, least of all one to a knight or a lord.”
Gold fires flamed. Dangerous fires, that spoke of more than thwarted desire.
“You say that often, and insult me with it. 'Tis you who misunderstand, and think the worst of me without cause. Those garments are not meant as a bribe to buy a bedmate for a few nights. I do not seek to make a whore of you.”
She had suspected as much when she saw him at the doorway. Better if he did only want her for brief pleasure. “What you call it will not matter. All others know such women for what they are.”