Page 67 of Pregnant After One Forbidden Night

EPILOGUE

Two years later

“I’MGLADWE’RE in agreement, gentlemen.” Sebastian raised the toast, and the two men he spoke to touched their glasses to one another’s.

Sebastian, Zayn and Drake were arranged in a half circle—Sebastian standing, Drake and Zayn seated—set apart at the outdoor bar from the soft grassy play area where three women formed a small ring around a trio of tiny seated humans, the babbles and ham-fisted gestures of which seemed to indicate the beginnings of a beautiful friendship.

Each of the tiny humans hovered around ten months old. The two girls, the Royal Princess Elke Aldenia d’Argonia and the young Amira Andros, heiress to the largest duchy in Cyrano, were both sturdier in their seat than the lone boy, but Reynard made up for the fact that he kept collapsing with the volume and power of his voice at each tumble.

Sebastian’s son was a talker. More of a roarer, actually.

So much so that, while it remained as strong as ever, an enduring flame, the peace Sebastian found at his many homes was no longer a quiet peace.

It was, however, still rooted in Jenna. Always Jenna.

It blew him away to reflect on the era of transformation that she had ushered into his life. There had been more fraught and tenuous firsts than a man as jaded as himself had a right to.

He cherished every one, bringing to family life the same focused intensity he brought to everything on the short list of things he loved, a list that included: Jenna, his child, espionage and architecture. It wasn’t lost on him that her coming into his life had nearly doubled the list. She’d gone and grown his heart to nearly twice its original size.

And it was twice as much to love her with.

He loved her with the immensity of his full will behind him.

He’d gained much to lose, but if he was more vulnerable now than he had ever been, it was because he loved more, and was therefore justified in being that much more cunning and ruthless in removing any threat thereto.

And this was a part of the reason the three men held their small conference at the sunny poolside bar.

Each man held a drink: the king, the pirate and the spy.

It was a good setup for a punch line.

It was an even better setup for an ironclad national protection team.

By land, by sea, by shadow—they would watch and guide Cyrano into its bright, modern future—as directed by their wives, of course. Their children needed a playground, after all.

The three men had just finished their toast, officially setting Sebastian’s latest plan in motion.

The king was Zayn d’Argonia. His role needed no explanation. His job was to rule. He was the king.

The pirate was Duke Drake Andros, now the wealthiest landholder in the nation. He was also a retired admiral and privateer who had reclaimed his birthright and in the process found the love of his life in Helene d’Tierrza.

He would watch the seas—a critical role for an island nation.

And then there was Sebastian, the reformed playboy duke, now a world-renowned architect. Publicly, he had become the incredibly exclusive architect who designed only three houses a year. Privately, his hands were filled with adoring his small family and leading Cyrano’s intelligence forces.

Three men, tied to one another through the country they ran and the women that ran them.

They were colleagues and, after the past year and a half or so, friends—a rare thing for men as powerful as they were.

And it was all because of the eagle-eyed women who stood at a distance from them, watching over their babies.

His Jenna, Queen Mina and the Duchess Andros—or, more truly, the queen and her loyal guards and most trusted companions, as storybook worthy as the Three Musketeers.

But for Sebastian, there was only Jenna.

After taking his fiancée home that day in the rain, they had flowed right into a honeymoon-like bubble, exploring the rest of Redcliff and each other simultaneously.

He lured her the same way every time, and she always indulged him.

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