Claiming his Cursed Duchess (Cursed Brides #2)

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

“ A dam,” Rosaline began as she lay naked in his arms, her voice soft, “there’s something I…I need to tell you.”

He turned to her, his gaze intense. “Anything, my sweet. You can tell me anything.”

She took a deep breath, the memory of that fateful day washing over her like a chilling wave.

“It was a…a dreadful night,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “My mother, my brother Michael, and I had attended a ball. My cousin Genevieve’s family was in front of us, in their carriage, while my friend Sophia’s was behind us. The weather was…atrocious. A terrible storm had raged all afternoon.”

She paused, her eyes tracing the flames, the memory vivid in her mind.

“I can still hear the howling wind, the thunder…and Michael’s laughter. He was so…happy. He had recently become Earl of Claridge, and he was…he was so eager to prove himself.”

A wistful smile touched her lips. “He was always so…full of life. Always teasing me, always trying to make me laugh.”

“He sounds like a remarkable man,” Adam said, his voice gentle.

“He was,” Rosaline replied, her voice catching. “The most remarkable man I ever knew.”

She closed her eyes, the image of that night burned into her memory. “We were returning home, the carriage swaying violently in the storm. Michael spoke about prospective brides, about how he would choose his wife.”

She chuckled, the sound bittersweet. “He said, ‘ I am the earl; prospective brides and their mothers seem to find me no matter where I hide. Even freshly in our grief, they came calling. I only attended the party tonight so they would stop accosting me in our home ’.”

“Your mother, I presume, disagreed?” Adam inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Oh, she did,” Rosaline replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “She said that the ones who came calling uninvited and un-introduced were far too forward to make an appropriate match.”

She paused, the memory of her mother’s gentle smile a fleeting comfort. “We were all laughing, enjoying the warmth of the carriage, the anticipation of returning home. And then…the storm struck. Genevieve’s carriage slipped off the road. I heard their screams.”

Rosaline’s voice trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.

Adam reached out, his hand gently covering hers. “Rosaline,” he said softly, “you don’t have to…you don’t have to relive it.”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I…I need to,” she whispered. “I need to tell you. It…it changed me.”

She took a deep breath, the memory of the shattered glass, the screams, the blood, flooding back. “Our horses must’ve gotten spooked by the sudden crash. I heard our carriage driver try to regain control, but…” she sobbed. “We crashed into Sophia’s carriage.”

Adam squeezed her hand.

“I was thrown to the side. When the carriage stopped, I saw them. My mother and brother. They…they were already gone.”

She pulled her hand away, self-consciously covering her arms.

“All I have left is these dreadful scars to remind me of that horrible night. Of how disgustingly ‘fortunate’ I was to survive.”

“Rosaline,” Adam said, his voice firm, his eyes filled with concern. “Look at me.”

She slowly raised her gaze, meeting his.

“I cannot offer you much comfort. I am sorry about your family. It is a dreadful thing to lose someone you cherish too early. But, I want you to know that the scars,” he said, his voice gentle, “they are a part of you. They show your strength, your resilience.”

He reached out, gently tracing the scar on her cheek with his finger. “You are beyond courageous, living with such a burden of grief.”

Rosaline felt a lump forming in her throat. No one had ever spoken of her scars with such…tenderness.

“I…I was afraid,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “Afraid of what people would think. Afraid that they would…be repulsed.”

“Repulsed?” Adam scoffed. “By you? You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”

“The ton,” she continued, her voice trembling. “They said I was cursed. That I was…a blight.”

Adam’s eyes hardened. “Do not let their inane superstitions define you.” He pulled her closer, his arms encircling her. “You are strong, Rosaline. You are brave. You are…extraordinary.”

Rosaline felt a wave of emotion wash over her. He believed in her. He saw beyond the scars.

She leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his warmth, his strength.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for…for understanding.”

Adam held her close and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Wear your scars with pride. You are a survivor, and that is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Rosaline smiled, wiping her tears away, and gripped him tighter.

“Thank you,” she whispered and nuzzled her head in his chest.

A few quiet, comfortable moments passed by. Then, Rosaline heard Adam sigh.

“I…I also lost someone I loved,” he said, his voice low and husky. “My brother, David. He…he died in a fire.”

Rosaline, startled, turned to him. “I…I am so sorry, Adam.”

“It was…my fault,” he confessed, his voice thick with guilt. “I should have…I should have done more.”

He recounted the events of that fateful night, the flames engulfing the house, the screams, the desperate struggle to save his brother.

“I couldn’t reach him,” he said, his voice breaking. “I was injured, my leg…a half-burnt beam fell on it. The bone had shattered, and I could only drag myself through the flames.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a deep-seated pain. “I couldn’t…I didn’t make it in time to save him. If I had been stronger, if I had been faster…”

Rosaline, touched by his raw vulnerability, reached out and gently stroked his cheek.

“Adam,” she said softly, “it wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could.”

He shook his head, his eyes filled with a haunted look. “No. I failed him.”

Rosaline, remembering the pain of her own loss, knew how deeply his grief ran. “You cannot blame yourself for something that was beyond your control,” she said, her voice firm. “You tried, Adam. You did everything you could.”

She gently touched his injured leg, her fingers tracing the faint scars. “Remember what you told me about my scars,” she said softly. “Your injury? You faced the fire, you risked your own life to save others. You saved Henry!”

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “You…you knew?”

“Henry told me bits about it. At the ball.”

Adam’s jaw clenched. “He shouldn’t?—”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I understand now,” she said, her voice sincere. “I understand you, Adam. And I want you to know that you shouldn’t punish yourself anymore.”

He pulled her closer, his arms holding her tightly. “Thank you, Rosaline,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for listening. For understanding.”

As they lay together, a comfortable silence settled between them, a silence filled with unspoken emotions, a shared understanding of loss, and a growing sense of connection.

A moment later, Rosaline shifted and Adam winced.

“Are you all right?” she asked, concerned.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbled.

“Perhaps I can help,” she offered, her voice soft and gentle. “My mother, bless her soul, was quite interested in medicine. She taught me how to prepare a liniment for such ailments.”

Adam, startled, looked at her, his eyes wary. “I don’t need your pity, Duchess.”

Rosaline smiled, a gentle, reassuring smile that belied the tremor in her hands. “Pity has nothing to do with it, Duke. It is merely…an offering of comfort.”

She rose from the bed and after putting on her nightgown, she ran to her room.

She returned moments later, carrying a small, intricately carved wooden box.

“This,” she said, opening the box to reveal a small, amber-colored jar, “is a liniment my mother used to prepare for my father. He injured his shoulder a long time ago, and this seemed to help. It is one of the few things I kept of hers.”

Adam, intrigued despite himself, watched her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

“It may not be a miracle cure,” she cautioned, “but it should offer some relief.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Very well.”

Rosaline approached him cautiously, her gaze fixed on his face.

She gently lifted his leg, her fingers brushing against his skin. A jolt, like static electricity, surged through her. He ’ s warm. Strong. She quickly suppressed the unexpected surge of sensation, focusing on the task at hand.

She poured a small amount of the liniment onto her palm, her fingers tracing the contours of his leg, the muscles taut and rigid beneath her touch.

“Does this…hurt?” she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

“No,” he growled, his voice rough. “Just…unfamiliar.”

Rosaline smiled, a small, encouraging smile. “It will feel better soon.”

She began to massage the liniment into his skin, her movements gentle, soothing.

“This… this is quite…pleasant,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Surprisingly so.”

Rosaline, her cheeks flushing, continued to massage his leg, her mind racing. The unexpected intimacy of the moment, the quiet hum of their shared breath, filled her with a strange sense of exhilaration.

“Your mother,” he said, his voice low and husky, “was a wise woman.”

“She was,” Rosaline agreed, her voice soft. “She taught me many things. Not just about healing, but about kindness, about compassion.”

“Kindness,” he repeated, his gaze fixed on her face. “A rare commodity these days.”

Rosaline, feeling a surge of defiance, met his gaze. “Not in my world,” she said, her voice firm. “Everyone deserves kindness, regardless of their station or status.”

Adam studied her face. ‘‘You are a remarkable woman,” he admitted, his voice husky. “Compassionate, intelligent…and surprisingly stubborn.”

Rosaline, taken aback by his unexpected praise, blushed. “Stubborn?” she echoed, a playful lilt to her voice. “Perhaps a touch.”

Adam chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Indeed. But a stubbornness tempered with kindness. A rare and intriguing combination.”

Rosaline, feeling a blush creeping up her neck, lowered her gaze. He ’ s studying me. Analyzing me.

“You are…observant,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Observant,” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “And perceptive. You see beneath the surface, duchess. You see the man, not the duke.”

Rosaline, startled by his intensity, looked up at him. His eyes, dark and penetrating, held hers captive.

“Perhaps,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “I see more than I should.”

Adam smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

Rosaline, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, felt a tremor run through her.

This is not how it was supposed to be . She had envisioned a life of quiet solitude, a life untouched by the complexities of court life.

But with Adam, everything had changed.