Page 21 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess
Rosaline stepped inside, her breath catching at the sight of the towering shelves crammed with books. The scent of old leather and parchment was intoxicating, a balm to her frayed nerves. She ran her fingers along the spines of a few titles, her fingers brushing against one of the polished shelves.
Adam leaned against the doorway, watching her. “I thought you might appreciate it.”
“You were right,” she admitted, turning to face him. “It’s beautiful.”
His gaze darkened, and for a moment, she felt as though he were studying her instead of the room.
“Beautiful things belong in beautiful places,” he murmured.
Her cheeks flushed, but she refused to let him see how his words affected her. “Spoken like a man who keeps his treasures locked away.”
Adam straightened, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer. “Is that what you think I do?”
“Do you deny it?” she countered, her chin tilting up in challenge.
He was standing close now, too close, the faint scent of cedarwood and something distinctly masculine surrounding her. Rosaline’s heart thundered as his intense gaze bore into hers, and she found herself pressed against the edge of a bookshelf.
“Be careful, Duchess,” Adam said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper as he braced one hand against the shelf beside her, effectively trapping her. “There’s only so far you can push a man before he pushes back.”
Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as his gaze dropped to her lips. She could feel the heat of him, his proximity making herdizzy with sensations she couldn’t quite name. Her stubbornness flared, and she refused to look away.
“Maybeyoushould be careful, Your Grace,” she shot back, her voice trembling only slightly. “Not all of us are content to be caged.”
For a moment, she thought he might close the distance between them. His free hand brushed the side of her face, his thumb grazing her jawline as he tilted her chin upward. Her lips parted slightly, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her when his breath ghosted against her skin.
Then, just as suddenly as the moment had ignited, it shattered. Adam stepped back, his expression shuttered, the fire in his eyes smothered as though it had never been there.
“You should return to your room,” he said, his voice cool and distant now. “It has been a long day.”
Rosaline blinked, her heart still pounding as she tried to process the abrupt shift. She wanted to argue, to demand an explanation, but something in his tone warned her against it. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and smoothed her skirts, masking her turmoil with a practiced air of indifference.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” she said, her voice calm despite the storm raging inside her.
She swept past him without another word, her head held high, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze lingering on her as she walked away.
Rosaline’s chambers were a stark contrast to the grand hall. Though elegant, they felt cold and impersonal. A large, imposing four-poster bed dominated the room, its heavy drapes casting long shadows. A small, ornate desk sat in the corner, its surface bare except for a quill and inkpot.
“Are the rooms to your liking, Your Grace?” Mrs. Thornhill inquired, her voice a careful balance of respect and deference.
Her eyes, however, darted nervously around the room, as if searching for any sign of the “curse” that supposedly clung to Rosaline. Alice, standing stiffly beside her, mirrored the housekeeper’s apprehension, her knuckles white as she clasped her hands together.
Rosaline, noticing their unease, smiled gently. “They are quite…impressive, Mrs. Thornhill. Thank you.” She moved closer to them, her posture open and welcoming. “The views are magnificent.”
Mrs. Thornhill, taken aback by Rosaline’s directness, forced a smile. “Yes, indeed. The gardens are quite lovely in the spring.” She glanced at Alice, who seemed to be shrinking into herself. “Alice, why don’t you show Her Grace the wardrobe? I took theliberty of stocking a few gowns in preparation for your arrival, uncertain of what would arrive with you, Your Grace.”
Alice, startled, stammered, “Y–yes, of course, Your Grace. This way.” She hurried towards the wardrobe, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Rosaline watched them go, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Poor things,” she murmured to herself. “They seem quite terrified of me.”
She wandered towards the window, the velvet of the curtains brushing against her arm.
Alice, meanwhile, was struggling to open the wardrobe doors. Her hands trembled nervously.
Rosaline, sensing her distress, approached gently. “Here, let me.”
With a push, the doors swung open, revealing a dazzling array of silks and satins. Alice gasped, her eyes widening in astonishment.
“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” Rosaline marveled softly beside the maid. Rosaline smiled. “Mrs. Thornhill,” she turned to the older woman, who had been watching the exchange with surprise and relief, “I believe I owe you an apology. My arrival seems to have caused quite a stir.”
