Page 32 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

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 whatwasyour 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 youarea 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.”