Page 7 of Pregnant After One Forbidden Night

The detail struck her. She would have expected him to be perfectly presented and clean-shaven. Like the undergirding of strength she sensed in him, the detail was at odds with his reputation.

In her experience, there were two kinds of men who allowed stubble: lazy ones and busy ones. She would have thought a man who made a profession of sexual pursuit would be neither.

Not that he didn’t look good. That would be far from the truth.

And he didn’t just look good. He smoldered. The longer Jenna stood in his presence, the more confident she grew that, handsome though he was, he owed his attractiveness to another thing entirely. His was the primal allure of the big bad wolf.

Thankfully, bad boys held no appeal for Jenna.

“Of course,” he said, scanning the balcony as he spoke, assessing the crowd before leading them toward the interior of the manor.

And all of it without releasing her wrist.

People moved out of their way, noticing their joined hands but quickly dismissing it.

Her uniform was a form of invisibility. No eyebrows need lift at a royal guard being led away by a duke. The rigid roles and hidden layers of intrigue in the capital made the strict demands and expectations of growing up Priory seem light by comparison.

She liked to think the one had prepared her for the other. However, memorizing their route as she followed behind the duke, she reflected that nothing had prepared her for the mystery in front of her now.

What could the Duke of Redcliff possibly need from her?

She imagined she would find out soon enough as he pushed open a door that looked just like the other doors they’d passed thus far.

Like every room in the d’Tierrza mansion, this one was enormous, but the library put all of the others to shame.

Inside, curved walls rolled like waves all around them, lined floor to gorgeously painted classical ceiling with books. A massive domed skylight drew in the seaside sun, and every nook boasted a uniquely comfortable reading area—a plush leather love seat here, a wing-backed chair next to a small table there, a cushioned and pillowed bench tucked beneath a many-paned window across the room.

The air was heavy with the hush that only tidily shelved books and blankets of fresh, undisturbed snow seemed to convey, deep and tangible, yet comforting, like a weighted blanket or a fire on a windy evening.

The library was a reader’s paradise, but the Duke of Redcliff dragged them through it with a single-minded purpose that suggested he had a more specific destination in mind than just the privacy the stunning library offered.

“If I’m not mistaken, we’ve made it to the library,” Jenna said, faintly breathless in anticipating what he might say.

What could she possibly have to offer the Duke of Redcliff?

He didn’t turn to answer her, merely replied, “What I need to tell you requires more privacy than this echoey dust trap.”

Jenna bristled. She might not know the floor plan, but this was still her best friend’s home.

“The library is beautiful,” she protested.

He didn’t spare it a glance. “A library’s beauty comes from its use—from the experiences and memories enveloped in its folds, the myriad worlds it contains. This library, however, is a mausoleum, built in honor of ego and enjoyed even less. Neither the current duchess nor the dowager duchess utilizes nor loves this room. Therefore, it is not beautiful but an echoey dust trap.”

Casting him a sharp glance, Jenna retorted, “You seem to know an awful lot about this library for someone who doesn’t live here.”

At her words, he slowed and turned, mouth pressed into a firm line, expression shadowed. “I studied architecture at university. The d’Tierrza estate is one of Cyrano’s most famous structures—certified Heritage. The library was built and stocked by the fourth Duke of d’Tierrza nearly seventy-five years ago. Look around.”

Jenna did, the hush of the room and the quiet seriousness in his voice weaving around her like a spell. The shelves were not, as he’d accused, dusty, but upon looking more closely, she saw that the books were indeed old, most with heavy cloth and leather bindings with gilded gold lettering.

There were thousands and thousands of volumes and, scanning them, not a single modern title among them.

The duke confirmed her assessment with his next words. “There hasn’t been a book added to this collection since they finished the library—a great showpiece for a grand, pointless gala much like today’s. Lovely to look at, but lifeless.”

It was impossible to imagine him as a student or even as a younger man. He gave the impression of having sprung into existence, fully formed as he was: leonine, feral and pitiless.

Whether or not he’d intended to reveal it, though, she now knew that buried so deeply that she couldn’t even say she could see it, there was a young man who loved buildings and libraries.

“Are we nearly there? I would love to help you but will need to return to my duties soon.” She tried to create distance with words while he led them around a final turn and into the most private reading nook she’d seen yet.

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