Page 49 of Trapped with the Beastly Duke

We are married. And it is silly for him to remain on the floor.

Rose knew she could have asked Alexander to leave, but when he had suggested it, she had felt panic grip her. The thought of being left alone seemed to steal her breath away.

Besides, I am enjoying the company.

Alexander frowned but seemed to force himself to relax. His shoulders dropped a little, and Rose felt the bed sink beneath his weight.

Silence seemed to stretch between them, and Rose fumbled for something to say. Her eyes fell on the sword resting on the table, moonlight glancing off the blade. Alexander followed her gaze but said nothing.

“I do not think I have ever seen a short sword before. They always seemed far more elegant than pistols,” Rose murmured.

“Elegance or not, it is still a weapon. Designed to cause harm.” Alexander’s voice was coolly detached. “Though, a sword does give one’s opponent a better chance of survival. Pistols are not so accurate, and I would not use one in such close quarters, lest my aim cause harm to another.”

“Is your aim so poor?” Rose asked, half teasing.

Is that what happened the night your father was killed?

Alexander shrugged, shifting on the bed. “My aim is quite accurate, but in the heat of a fight, too much can go amiss.”

“I suppose that is true.” Rose glanced around the room. “Though you came alone, what would have happened if there had been more than one intruder?”

“I would have fought them,” Alexander said simply.

“Even if there were five? Or more?” Rose frowned. “I am sure you are skilled with a sword, but surely even you have your limits.”

“It is not a question of skill. The objective would not be to defeat them, simply to allow you time to escape. That is an entirely different matter.” Alexander met her gaze. “Though I confess, I am glad that it was a dream and not some group of bandits that troubled you tonight.”

Rose felt her heart twist.

He would sacrifice himself for me.

“I, too, am glad that it was only a dream that troubled me.”

Somewhere in the castle, a clock began to chime.

One. Two. Three. It is three o’clock in the morning.

“The witching hour,” Alexander murmured.

Rose raised an eyebrow. “My mother always told me that the hour after midnight was the witching hour.”

“Then perhaps she is right. I was told that from three to four is the witching hour.” Alexander smiled. “As a young boy, if I woke up at that time, I would run to the window and see if I could spy some devil at work.”

“You were not afraid you might come to some mischief?” Rose tilted her head.

“I had the arrogance of youth. I thought that nothing could harm me. I was so fascinated by stories of the fae, of myths and legends. In fact, I found a book of mysteries that holds all sorts of stories from across the land.” Alexander smiled. “It was full of all sorts of frightful stories of wicked spirits and superstitions.”

“That sounds fascinating.” Rose leaned forward. “Is it in the Western library?”

Alexander tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You know, I am not sure. Mother found me reading it to Olivia when we were younger and took it from us.”

“I take it that the contents of your book were not suitable for a young lady?” Rose’s lips quirked up as she imagined a younger Alexander reading to his sister.

“In a sense. You see, I had been reading her stories for some weeks, and Olivia had spent much of those nights plagued by nightmares. When Mother found us reading the book, she confiscated it, and the next day, the nightmares stopped.” Alexander smiled. “However, that did not stop us from searching high and low for the book—although our efforts were in vain.”

Rose laughed. “Clearly your mother knows you both well.”

Alexander laughed with her. “Indeed, she does. Do not let her gentle manner fool you. My mother is a most cunning woman.”