Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“ Y ou are alone,” Rosaline observed, her voice barely a whisper as she stumbled upon the duke after wandering through the gardens.
Days had turned into weeks, and the estate walls seemed to close in on her. The whispers, the averted gazes, the superstitious fear—it was all too much.
She sought solace in her books, her garden, and the quiet company of her thoughts. But the loneliness was a constant companion, a shadow that followed her everywhere.
Adam was sitting on a stone bench, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.
The setting sun cast a golden glow upon his features, softening his usually stern expression. She paused, her eyes tracing the lines of his face.
He is handsome. Undeniably so, she thought, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for his response.
He turned to face her, his eyes piercing through her.
“As are you. You have been avoiding everyone, including me.”
She shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, but her heart raced. “I prefer the solitude.”
“Do you?” he questioned, his voice laced with doubt. “Or are you simply tired of being treated like a pariah?”
She hesitated, her gaze flickering away from his.
He sees through me, she thought, a mix of fear and admiration stirring within her.
“I have learned to endure.”
“Endure?” he scoffed, his eyes boring into hers. “A woman like you, with a mind as sharp as a dagger and a spirit as fierce as a storm, should not be forced to endure.”
His gaze held hers, a silent challenge.
He thinks I am strong? she wondered, a flicker of hope igniting in her heart. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could see beyond the scars and the rumors.
A warmth spread through her, a sensation she hadn’t felt in years.
She looked at him, a flicker of hope, then a spark of defiance, in her eyes. “You think so?” Her voice was low, a challenge.
He nodded, his expression serious, his jaw clenched. “I do. You deserve better.”
He looked away from her, his gaze distant, his face a mask.
“You must stop avoiding my staff. Our staff. You are my duchess, and they must learn to treat you as such.”
“You don’t,” Rosaline replied, her voice steady, her posture straight. “You do not treat me as your duchess, let alone your wife. Why would your staff do any differently, if you do not lead by example?” She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I have more pressing responsibilities,” Adam began, his voice a bit defensive.
Rosaline could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, a testament to the unexpected sharpness of her retort. He was caught off- guard, she realized, and a surge of satisfaction coursed through her.
“Then, why did you marry me?” she pressed, her voice low, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “I know there is no advantage to you agreeing to this union, not by virtue of marrying a cursed woman like me. So what did you gain from this bargain with my uncle? What pawn has he made me in this damnable game of his?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her scarred arms hidden from view, but her posture was defiant.
“You truly had no knowledge of his plan?” Adam blinked, then turned away again, his eyes darkening.
“What plan?”
“No matter. It was a necessary arrangement, and it seems that our arrangement of separate lives should be more suitable than I hoped.”
“A necessary arrangement?” she repeated, her voice rising, her anger growing. “A necessary arrangement that has left me isolated, feared, and alone.”
She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous gesture that belied her outward confidence.
He doesn ’ t understand, she thought, frustration gnawing at her.
Rosaline tilted her chin, her eyes flashing with defiance. She smoothed the folds of her gown, a subtle gesture of control.
Her gaze drifted to the scars marring her arms, a stark reminder of her past. She quickly averted her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest.
“I never intended for you to suffer,” he said, his voice softening, his gaze meeting hers.
She could feel his eyes boring into her, searching her soul.
As if he could see the darkness within me, she thought, her breath catching in her throat.
“Then what was your intent?” Rosaline demanded. “What plot am I accused of aiding and abetting? Whose pawn do you accuse me of being?”
“You are a pawn no more, but you are a duchess.” Adam avoided the question, and Rosaline sighed out a furious breath.
“What scheme do you accuse me of being complacent with?” Rosaline’s frustration shone bright in her blue eyes, defiant in the set of her proud chin and shoulders.
“It seems we are both simply at the mercy of fate, dear wife, and I am sorry to have distressed you with my accusations.” Adam replied cryptically, with a shallow, stilted bow, and Rosaline huffed at him, unimpressed.
“You have reason to believe that I am part of some force controlling your fate. To what end?” Rosaline’s eyes bored into the duke, who did not meet her gaze, remaining stoic and enigmatic as ever.
“Clearly you are not.” The duke scoffed, shaking his head and turning as if to walk away from her.
“Then why do you avoid me?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Why do you treat me as if I am a creature to be feared?”
Adam stopped short, turning to look at her in surprise.
For the first time, Rosaline saw him fully disarmed; eyes wide, lips parted, as he stared at her as if truly seeing her for the first time as well.
Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She forced herself to relax, to project an image of calm confidence.
“I…” he began, his voice hesitant.
He ’ s at a loss for words, she thought, a smirk tugging at her lips.
“I know,” she interrupted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You are afraid of me. Afraid of what I might do. Afraid of the darkness that resides within me.”
She rolled her eyes, her expression one of exaggerated disdain.
He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching her face.
“You are not a monster, Rosaline,” he said, his voice gentle. “You are not cursed,” he countered, his voice firm. “You are more than the sum of your misfortune.”
His words hung in the air, a challenge.
“More than the sum of my misfortune? What does that even mean?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.
“It means that you are capable of life,” he said, his voice growing stronger. “You are capable of experiencing more than just misery.”
His gaze held hers, a silent promise.
A shiver ran down her spine as his gaze locked onto hers.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, indignation shooting through her veins.
“What do you mean?”
“Being cold and distant one moment, and the next speaking to me in such a manner. Treating me like a stranger and then… and then…”
“Then what?”
“I was going to say treating me like a man treats his wife, but I hardly have the experience to know anything about that.”
His eyes, a deep shade of blue, seemed to pierce her very soul. She could feel a strange warmth spreading through her, a sensation she had never experienced before.
“You want me to treat you like my wife?” he whispered, his breath warm against her lips. “I would ruin you, Duchess. Utterly. I would unmake you—piece by piece—until there was nothing left but me.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She had never felt so alive, so vulnerable, so exposed. Yet, a thrill coursed through her veins.
He ’ s a beast, a dangerous one. But I can handle him.
“Don’t you know, husband?” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. “I was already ruined when you married me.”
Adam kissed her passionately, his lips demanding, possessive.
She closed her eyes, savoring the moment. He was strong, dominant, yet there was an underlying tenderness beneath his rough exterior.
He is a puzzle. One which I am determined to solve. She had always been drawn to challenges, to the unknown.
The kiss deepened, growing more intense. He pushed her against the wall, his touch both gentle and forceful.
A nearby vase toppled to the floor, shattering into pieces.
A footman appeared, startled by the noise.
Adam pulled away, his gaze still locked on hers. She could see the desire burning in his eyes.
He wants more. He craves more.
“I have work to do,” he said, his voice low and husky.