Page 46 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

“Heavens!” Sophia scrambled to her feet with an undignified squeak.

With the movement, the book tumbled to the floor.

Her heart was racing as she managed to turn to the door.

A man stood before her, taller than any of her usual acquaintances, his frame so solid and muscular—very rare amongst the men in the ton.

His dark brown hair, longer than what Society might deem acceptable, seemed to fall in careless waves, yet his beard was meticulously trimmed, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw.

There was something undeniably striking about him—something that felt right in a way that unsettled her.

Dark and commanding, he could have come straight from the pages of her book.

He didn’t belong in this world, and yet, in some strange way, he fit into it perfectly.

The most arresting part of his face, though, was his brown eyes. They were intense but unreadable.

Was he judging her?

She couldn’t even tell. However, they were knowing eyes, and they scanned her quickly, from her furiously blushing face to the book on the floor by her feet.

Horror gripped Sophia’s heart.

“I—T-This is n-not…” she stammered.

“What a studious girl you are. Hiding in the library,” the man murmured, his eyes as sharp and flinty as a predator’s, as he leisurely walked toward her while she hopelessly cowered.

Sophia scrambled for composure, smoothing her dress with frantic fingers. The same fingers that had felt so inquisitive, so wanton, moments ago.

“It is none of your concern, My Lord.”

Who was this man?

“You are flushed, My Lady,” he said, chuckling. “And clearly in some sort of… distress.”

His voice was low and deep, searing the deepest part of her. She was still sensitive between her legs, aching. Wanting. And this man might have caught her in a compromising position, but some part of her wanted him there.

Wanted him to… help.

She shook her head at the ridiculous thought.

“A young lady reading scandalous literature in a library, alone? Of course, it’s very much of interest to me,” the man continued.

“I am not a young lady. I am a spinster,” she said, gulping. “My Lord. And a spinster in a library is a rather forgettable scene. I am sure you would discard such a memory easily.”

The mysterious intruder narrowed his eyes at her as if studying her. As if trying to read her. His eyes flashed, and she was reminded of a wolf stalking her from the bushes.

“And if I don’t discard it?”

He was closer now, and she had to swallow, her throat suddenly dry. He was an overwhelming presence, a man who seemed to fill every inch of space with his sheer size and confidence. She could easily imagine him commanding a room of powerful men, his every word dripping with authority.

Did she address him by his proper title? What was his proper title?

What was he doing here, alone and out of place?

He should have been in the ballroom, spinning through dances with the most illustrious ladies of the ton. Instead, he stood there, forcing her to confront something she wasn’t ready for.

“If you do that, you are nothing but a scoundrel. No! A rogue.”

“A scoundrel?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she replied defiantly.

She made certain she met his burning gaze. She would not cower, even though she was the one caught doing something questionable.

A thick silence settled between them, each one measuring the other, waiting for the first sign of movement. It felt like a game of chess—every glance, every breath a potential move. Neither of them dared to reveal their intentions, each wondering what the other would do next.

“Perhaps I am a scoundrel.”

Then, he flashed a grin—a wolfish smile that sent a thrill down her spine. It was the kind of grin that hinted at secrets, at a dangerous confidence, and yet somehow made him even more attractive.

The door … Oh, no .

Sophia realized that she was still trapped where she was, even though her skirts were down and the book was hastily picked up and returned to its place on the shelf.

She would have to pass by the arrogant man, who was smirking at her, watching her as if he knew her.

You don’t know me.

Her anger flared, even though other emotions warred inside her.

She lifted her chin, gathering the last shreds of her dignity, and walked toward the exit with the intention of leaving the room. Of leaving him. However, the man was quick to step into her path, effectively blocking her escape.

“Move, please,” she said, keeping her voice even.

The heat that spread through her was still there, strong and insistent. It seemed to grow stronger as she neared him.

“Not so fast, My Lady,” the man growled softly, his voice stirring something in her that felt too close to what she was feeling earlier. Damn it. She was so close. “What were you doing in the library all alone?”

“I was looking for some solitude,” she said monotonously, even as she tried to find a way to get past him. “As I can no longer find it here, I shall go elsewhere.”

“Solitude?” He continued blocking her path. “I didn’t know that is what they call it now.”

“Leave me be, My Lord,” she warned. “Or I will scream. I am warning you, I have strong lungs.”

“Oh, do you now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted solitude.”

His words woke her up from the illusion that she could get away from him without any consequences. If she screamed, she would cause a scandal that would affect not only herself but also the Holtons.

It would prove Lady Holton right—that she was nothing more than a liability.

And Anna! Dear sweet, Anna. She did not deserve the scrutiny and scorn she’d face if anyone saw Sophia with this man all alone.

No, she had to get out. Now.

“Y-You are insufferable,” she mumbled.

“And you are trying to avoid my question.”

“I am trying to leave. Can’t you see?”

“So soon? Now, that’s a pity.”

Sophia inhaled sharply, and the scent of him flooded her senses. It was clean, masculine, subtle yet heady, the faint trace of brandy mixing with something deeper, something more commanding.

He was so close now, close enough that the distance between them felt suffocating. The air was thick with tension, and though no one else might find it improper, the space between them seemed far too small.

His breath fanned her cheek, warm and deliberate. The intensity with which he regarded her made her feel like prey under the watchful eye of a predator—every movement, every breath measured.

“Admit this, at least, My Lady,” he whispered. “Are you frustrated?”

“Of course, I am frustrated with you—you’re blocking my path!” she protested as she realized what he meant by his question.

She couldn’t even be properly indignant. After all, she was the one who was caught during a compromising act.

“Not with me, My Lady,” he murmured. “With…” He continued looking downward, between her legs. “Your solitude. Are you not unsatisfied?”

Shock reverberated through her. While her uncle had been outright rude to her and the ton had simply cast her aside, nobody had talked to her as boldly as this man.

“I was right. You are a scoundrel!”

“Oh, you should listen more closely to the whispers in the ballroom. Or better yet, listen to what less polite society says about me.”

Now, Sophia was even more determined to leave the library. She couldn’t breathe. She was filled with so many emotions at the same time. Anger and humiliation reigned over the rest.

“Move aside. Please.” She pushed against him, ignoring the warm muscle her palm encountered.

“I could help with your frustration, My Lady,” he said.

This time, the smirk was no longer on his face. Instead, his gaze seemed more intense.

“What?” Sophia couldn’t believe that she would be shocked so many times in one night.

“I could help you reach what you were trying to gain from… your solitude,” he replied, mischief peeking through his tone.

“T-That’s highly improper, My Lord,” she sputtered.

“I believe impropriety has been thrown out the window, My Lady.”

Sophia’s cheeks burned. The heat she felt was no longer from embarrassment when his gaze dropped to her lips. The look in his eyes was unmistakable—raw, unapologetic desire.

Without thinking, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, a movement so bold that it made her heart flutter.

Suddenly, a loud commotion in the hallway shattered the charged moment. The noise snapped Sophia back into full awareness.

What was she doing? What had she been thinking?

There was the unmistakable clink of glass, followed by a shout—sharp and reprimanding. What was happening outside?

“Pity,” the man said softly, scanning her face from her blue eyes to her parted lips. “Perhaps I will see you again, and we may finish what we’ve started.”

Then, he turned to leave.

Before Sophia could sigh in relief and disappointment, he turned back and looked at her again.

“Ensure that you have returned the book to its proper place,” he advised. “Lest our host suspect that some kind of mischief took place in his library.”

Sophia’s jaw dropped. She drew an angry breath to reply, but he was already gone.