“Want to join me?” he mouths. “I’ll be gentle…”

I shake my head and let the drapes fall into place.

Rushing away, I head down the hall and swipe two cakes from the kitchen before running up the staircase. Before I can make a left to return to my room, Gabriel steps in front of me.

“The best route out of the castle is behind you.” He smirks. “You’re going the wrong way.”

I nod, too breathless for a retort.

“See, Boss?” The guard from earlier moves between us, taking one of the cakes from my hands. “It’s just as I said. She came back.”

“I can see that, Anthony.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Spare us a few moments alone, please.”

“Yes sir.” He walks away, stuffing the cake into his mouth, and Gabriel presses his hand against my forehead.

“Something wrong?”

“I stumbled someplace I wasn’t to be,” I say. “I don’t think I was supposed to see those things.”

“Excuse me?” His lips turn up into a small smile. “What things?”

“The ones going on in your ballroom right now.” I pause. “For the record, as um, intriguing as it looks, I’ll never let your men do those to me.”

He glances down the steps, and the sounds climax again.

“I can assure you that I’ll never allow them to do any of those ‘things’ with you,” he says, smiling. “But if you ever wanted them from me, I’d never want to share you afterward.”

“Is that supposed to excite me?”

“You tell me…” He steps forward, running his fingers through my hair, setting all my nerves on edge with ease. “Does it?”

I don’t answer that. “Find what you were looking for while you were gone?”

“Not exactly,” he says. “Have you missed me?”

“No.”

“You’re not a very good liar, Belle.” He doesn’t push the issue. “Did anyone give you a tour of the entire place?”

“They showed me mostly everything, except the study.”

“What about the library?”

“What?” I suck in a breath, stunned. “You have a library? Where?”

“I’ll show you.” He slides a hand around my waist, pressing his palm against the small of my back as we walk down a long, winding hall. “This used to be my favorite room when I lived here.”

I look up at him, confused. “When was that?”

“A very long time ago.”

“Were you a servant boy to the owner, then? What all do you know about the eighth and ninth kingdoms?”

His eyes meet mine, but his lips never part to answer my questions. Instead, he points out the paintings that line the walls and tells me his favorites.

When we reach the end of the hall, he makes a left and stops in front of two huge grey doors.

My heart races in anticipation, my fingers itch to touch spines, and I’m dying to know how his room compares to the bookstore in the village.

“I’m not sure I should show you this room,” he says.