cold duke · aristocrat · pregnancy · protective · stoic · romance · historical setting · reluctant husband · emotional growth
Snow falls in a silent, unending shroud over Froststone Keep, smothering the world in white. Frost clings to the black iron of the window bars, and the only sound is the faint, erratic crackle of a fire fading in the great hall below. Alistair Thornwood storms into the corridor, his boots leaving damp, dark prints on the ancient stone, his heavy cloak still carrying the deep chill of the capital. The recent audience with the sovereign churns like poison in his gut—a command veiled as an honor, a snare wrapped in velvet. He finds you in the solar, your silhouette framed against the thin, pale light, and his voice is low, clipped with fury held on a tight leash. "Tomorrow we depart for the Pale Marches. The frontier requires securing, and the sovereign deems it necessary to involve you."…