Page 68 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

The question echoed in her mind as she ascended the grand staircase, her steps slow and deliberate, her fingers brushing against the banister for support.

This constant game of push and pull was exhausting.

“No. Leave me alone.”

The faint sound of Adam’s voice from his adjoining room caught her attention.

She paused in her preparations for bed, holding as still as possible to hear better. The tone wasn’t clear, but there was an unmistakable groan of pain.

He’s in pain?

She froze, her heart skipping a beat.

Hesitantly, she moved toward his room, her hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob.

Should I…? No, it’s none of my business.

But the groan echoed through the hallway again, more pronounced this time, and it was enough to push her forward.

A surge of concern overtook her, and she couldn’t quell it. She wasn’t some callous stranger. He was her husband, whether he acknowledged it or not, and though he might withdraw, she could never turn away from him in need.

Driven by something deeper than reason, Rosaline pushed the door open with quiet precision, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the scene before her.

Adam was sprawled on the bed, his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he winced, his brows furrowed in discomfort. He was shirtless, his broad chest and muscular arms glistening with a sheen of sweat that glimmered in the dim light of the room.

Adam, startled by her sudden appearance, jumped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Rosaline! What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

Rosaline, her eyes softening with concern, ignored his question. She stepped closer, her gaze drawn to the way he was clutching his leg.

“You’re in pain,” she said, her voice soft with tenderness she didn’t often show.

She wasn’t accustomed to such vulnerability, especially from him, but the sight of his discomfort stirred something protective in her. She couldn’t stand to see anyone, least of all him, suffer alone.

Adam, still processing the intrusion, tried to wave her off, though his gaze flickered with something like frustration. “It’s nothing. Just a pulled muscle.”

Rosaline, however, was not to be dissuaded. She knelt beside him, her eyes scanning his leg with a precise intelligence.

“Let me see,” she insisted, her voice firm with unspoken authority. He was stubborn, yes, but she wasn’t about to let him suffer in silence. “Let me see the old pulled muscle that ails you so much I could hear you from next door. Have you forgotten that I am yourwife? Do you think I am blind, deaf, and dumb?”

Adam, his resolve weakening, allowed her to examine him.

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

Rosaline huffed in exasperation, her brow furrowing as she continued to inspect him.

“Of course it’s not nothing,” she retorted, her voice firm. “You’re so stubborn, you know that?”

He shot her a sidelong glance, his eyes dark and unreadable. “And you,” he countered, “are overly concerned.”

“Overly concerned?” she scoffed, rising to meet his gaze. Her voice rose, the sharp edge of her frustration cutting through the tension. “Of course I am concerned! You are my husband, whether you like it or not.”

His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a hard line. “Husband,” he repeated, the word tasting like bitter wine on his tongue. “A word that carries a great deal of weight, Duchess.”

The word “duchess” struck a nerve, a flash of heat rising in her cheeks.He’s deliberately provoking me, she thought, her heart fluttering with a mixture of irritation and something else, something more dangerous that she refused to acknowledge.

“Perhaps it does,” she replied, her voice steady, though the tremor running through her was unmistakable. “But it also carries responsibility.”

Adam leaned closer, his gaze intense, almost predatory as he searched her eyes for a reaction. “Responsibility?” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “Such as?”