Chapter 13

William lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to find any semblance of sleep. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, all centered on Rose. The feeling of her in his arms, the intense connection they had shared, and the unspoken words that lingered between them haunted him. Frustrated and restless, he decided to head to the kitchen for some tea, hoping it might help calm his racing thoughts.

As he entered the dimly lit kitchen, he was startled to see Rose already there, a cup of tea in her hands. She looked up, equally surprised to see him.

"Rose," he said softly, stepping closer. "I… I didn't expect to find you here at this time of night."

She gave him a small, tentative smile. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted.

"Me neither," he replied. "Too much on my mind."

She just nodded at that. In her eyes, he could see a rush of empathy and understanding. He had a strong suspicion that they were both thinking of the same thing.

"This evening has been… eventful, to say the least," she told him.

He nodded, moving to prepare his own cup of tea. He turned his back to her for a moment, but he knew that she was looking at him. He could feel the heat of her gaze on the back of his head. When he finally turned around to face her again, her doe-eyed gaze was still on him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Why would you be sorry?"

"I'm sorry that you got caught up in whatever childish prank took place this evening," he clarified. "It is not the first time this has happened."

He thought she would look away, just like she did before, but she didn't. The connection between them was palpable, an unspoken understanding lighting up the way.

"I am used to the local children treating me like a monster that needs to be driven out from time to time, but it must have been frightening for you, and for that, I apologize."

Rose set her tea aside and walked over to him. As she did so, he could feel his heart pounding with her every step. She reached up, gently cupping his scarred face in her hand. The touch was tender, filled with compassion and something deeper that neither of them could deny.

"I don't see any monster here," she whispered, her eyes locked onto his.

William's breath caught in his throat. The sincerity in her words, the warmth in her touch, it was almost too much to bear. He had spent so long feeling isolated, believing the worst of himself because of his scars and the responsibilities thrust upon him. But in this moment, with Rose, he felt seen. Truly seen.

"Rose," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Before he could say anything else, she pressed her lips to his. Only then did he realize how much he had yearned for that moment, probably from the moment he laid eyes on her. Her lips moved slowly, tenderly, almost as if she was afraid of harming him with her desire. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. The world seemed to fade away into the darkest recesses of the night, the light of their desire shining brighter than ever.

Her tongue danced with his tenderly, without any rush, but he found himself yearning for more of those innocent kisses. Somehow, instead of satiating him, they made him ravenous for her. Provoked to the point of no return, he pulled away from her. He drank in the sight of her, wanting to remember her always as she was at that very moment.

Her eyes burning brighter, a beacon of hope in the night. Her lips were slightly swollen, plump and delicious. Her cheeks flushed. Her hands on his cheeks, still trembling. Everything about her seemed to belong to another world, a world he would never be a part of. But that very evening… their words collided.

With that thought in mind, he crashed his lips against hers, losing himself completely in the moment. His hands were in her hair, raking through it, pulling her close, taking control of their kiss. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to kiss her tenderly and reverently, or let loose all the savagery within him, to show her how much he had been yearning for her.

He could feel her hot breath on his lips awakened his manhood, reminding it that the woman before him was pure perfection, everything he had ever wanted. As if able to read his mind, she moaned against his lips, as she reciprocated with far less experience, but so much enthusiasm that he could barely breathe against the onslaught of her desire, which in turn seemed to make him even more ravenous for her.

He couldn't stop kissing her, although every fiber of his being reminded him that it was inappropriate, that it could never be, that they belonged to two separate worlds. So, he kept kissing her, passion giving way to tenderness, gentleness, until finally reason barged in through the foggy doors of his consciousness to remind him that it needed to stop.

With a sharp intake of breath, William pulled away, stepping back from Rose as if he had been burned. He ran a hand through his hair, a look of torment on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice shaky. "I shouldn't have done that. You're my employee, and I shouldn't have taken such liberties. It was a mistake. It won't happen again. You have my promise, Rose."

He was such a liar. He gave a promise which he wasn't certain he would be able to keep. Did he think that it was inappropriate to kiss her? Yes. Did he want to do it again? A resounding yes. And there he was, standing before her, apologizing for something he was not the least bit sorry for.

Rose stood there, her heart still racing from the kiss. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The intensity of the moment had left her reeling, and now she was struggling to process his sudden withdrawal.

William took a deep breath, trying to regain composure. "I think you should go to bed," he said, his tone more composed but still edged with regret. "It is late and you do need your rest."

Rose nodded slowly, feeling a mix of confusion and disappointment. "Yes, Your Grace," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she turned to leave the kitchen, William watched her go, his heart heavy with the weight of what had just happened. He knew he had crossed a line, and the guilt was gnawing at him. But even as he tried to convince himself it was a mistake, he couldn't deny the fact that there was something about her which drew him to her, a magnetic pull that wouldn't let him be.

He remained in the kitchen for a while longer, making his tea, then returned to his own room. There, he sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He couldn't stop thinking about Rose, the way she had felt in his arms, the softness of his lips. He had never intended for things to go this far, but now that they had, he knew that he had to find a way to make things go back to the way they were. That feat seemed impossible.

***

The following morning, Rose headed to church, as she did every Sunday. The arrangement with the duke was that on those days, she would come after the morning sermon, so she made sure to get up very early and catch her brother, in order to confront him about the incident from the previous evening.

Wrapping her arms around her upper arms, as it was a chilly morning and she decided against using the duke's carriage, opting for a brisk walk instead, she tried to focus on her brother, but all she could think about was the duke.

The memory of his kiss lingered on her lips, and even now, it sent shivers down her spine, as if their kiss ended mere seconds ago. She had never experienced anything like that before, the intensity of the moment leaving her breathless and yearning for more.

But reality quickly intruded, reminding her of the vast divide between them. William was a duke, and she was just a maid in his household. Their worlds were so different, and she knew that any kind of relationship between them was impossible. After all, he himself had reminded her of that.

His words echoed in her mind: "It was a mistake." The rejection stung, a painful reminder of their unequal status. She cursed herself for allowing her feelings to cloud her judgment, for allowing herself to give in to the moment and also give herself in such a manner. The thought made her blush fervently, both with desire as well as embarrassment.

She shook her head quickly, dismissing William and instead, bringing Henry to the forefront of her mind. Anger simmered beneath the surface as she thought about her brother's involvement in the stone-throwing incident. She was determined to confront him, to make him understand the consequences of his actions. But even as she resolved to take action, doubt gnawed at her heart.

As Rose approached the church, she could see a lot of people had already gathered in anticipation of the morning sermon. Her eyes searched the crowd, looking for Aunt Cora, but obviously she had not arrived yet. However, it would seem that Henry and his friends had.

Rose's steps slowed as she overheard Henry's voice, accompanied by the laughter of his friends. She couldn't see them yet, but she could recognize their voices anywhere. She paused, hidden from view, listening intently to their conversation.

A part of her didn't want to hear any of it, because she knew what they would be saying. Her heart ached for William, who didn't deserve a single bad word, a single insult. Before, she didn't know him, but she knew that was no monster. She never believed in those stories and gossips, and now, she felt it was her duty to educate the villagers, especially her brother and his friends, on compassion and sympathy.

"Yes! We shall root out the monster of Montford Manor! All of us together!" one of Henry's friends declared, his voice laced with mockery.

His friends laughed, egging him on with jests and jibes about forcing out the so-called monster from the manor. Anger surged within Rose at the callousness of their words, the disrespect aimed at William and his home.

Unable to contain her fury any longer, Rose stepped forward, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "There's no monster at Montford Manor," she declared, her eyes flashing with indignation. "And you should know better than to spread such lies!"