Chapter 3

Nothing around her was familiar.

Rose blinked her eyes, trying to clear the haze clouding her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was the dense canopy of the forest above her as she was bending down to gather herbs, their earthy scent mingling with the dampness of the forest floor. Then, a sudden commotion, the rustle of leaves, and the unmistakable grunts of a boar.

She could feel a dull ache in her limbs as she tried to piece together what happened. Was she attacked by the boar? Did she manage to escape? Her memories were all fragmented, like shards of glass scattered in her mind. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog, but that didn't help much.

She looked around as her gaze sharpened. The room was dark, save for a few trickles of sunlight oozing through the side windows, untouched by the curtains. It was an opulent room, which she didn't recognize. It made her apprehensive. She tried to recall how she got there, but her memories remained elusive, slipping through her grasp like water through clenched fingers. Was she dreaming? The room felt too vivid, too tangible for it to be a mere figment of her imagination.

It was then that she heard a voice.

"How are you feeling?"

Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sound of the voice breaking through the silence of the room. She whirled her head around, her senses on high alert, trying to locate the source of the voice. In the dim light, she finally managed to make out the silhouette of a man, standing a bit further away from her, shrouded in shadows.

Who was that man? How did he get there? And more importantly, how did she get there? A thousand questions raced through her mind as she struggled to find her voice, her throat tight with apprehension.

"I… I'm…" Rose stammered, her words faltering, as she tried to compose herself. "I'm feeling… confused. Lost."

Her voice echoed softly in the room, mingling with the hushed rustle of fabric as the man moved closer to her, but still remaining hidden. She watched him warily, the darkness obscuring his features completely, leaving her to wonder what might lie beneath the shadows. There was a tense silence that hung between them. She waited for him to respond, her heart hammering in her chest, unsure of what to expect next.

The man spoke again, his voice low and measured, cutting through the stillness like a blade through silk. "Forgive me for startling you," he said, sounding formal. "But I assure you, I mean you no harm. What is the last thing you remember?"

She thought about it for a moment, but a sudden headache blossomed inside of her, the pain spreading like wildfire through her body. She blinked heavily, in an effort to banish it, but it was impossible. Still, she spoke through the pain.

"I was… in the woods, I think," she said.

"Yes, that is where I found you," the man explained. "I think you tripped and fell, hitting your head, while you were trying to avoid the boar."

The sounds of grunting. Squealing. The pointy teeth. The roots she tripped on and the feeling as if someone had suddenly stolen the sun from the sky, turning everything black. It all came back to her.

She lifted her hand, gently touching the well of her pain. Her body tensed at the sensation as she endeavored to relax through the onslaught of discomfort. She quickly realized that she had been bandaged, and rather well at that.

"Did… you do this?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the man, although she had no idea who she was looking at.

"Yes, I brought you here, to my home, and I cleaned your wound while you were still unconscious," he explained.

"Your home?" she echoed curiously. "Is that where I am?"

"Yes, my home…" he paused for a moment, as if he were fighting with himself whether to continue or not. "Montford Manor."

She suffocated a gasp. "Then you are…" She stopped, allowing him to finish her thought.

"The Duke of Montford, yes," he confessed in a manner one confessed to having committed a terrible crime. She couldn't imagine having a name that carried such a dreadful burden with it.

The man standing before her, cloaked in darkness, was none other than the duke himself. She had heard tales of the duke, but never had she imagined she would find herself in his presence, alone in a lavish room shrouded in secrecy.

"Come into the light," she said, surprising even herself with her request.

His voice cut through the silence; his tone wry. "I'm afraid I must decline your request… for your own good." She could hear the weight of authority in his voice, but there was more than just that. Was it pain? "I wouldn't want to frighten you any further than you already seem to be."

Her brow furrowed in displeasure; her curiosity piqued by his cryptic words. She knew of his scars. Everyone did.

"Frighten me?" she reverberated. "Your Grace, I assure you that I am not easily frightened."

"Have you not heard of the tales of my… monstrosity?" he inquired. Was that a hint of amusement she could hear in his voice?

"There are no such things as monsters," she told him the same thing she had told Timothy, and many times to her own brother. "You are a grown man. You should know that."

"I do," he said in a way as if he were grinning, but she couldn't see it in the darkness. "I also know that grown men create these monsters. And then frighten little children with them."

She knew what he was referring to. She knew she should let it go. She should just thank him for his hospitality and leave. But something wouldn't let her. She needed to see him.

"I am no little child," she reminded him. "I have seen plenty of scary things helping my aunt, the village healer."

"Cora Roberts is your aunt?" he inquired.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Rose," she introduced herself. "Rose Browning."

She heard him inhale deeply. "Well, Rose Browning… you think you've seen scars?"

"I know I have," she assured him. "And I want to thank you properly for saving me in the woods. I want to look at you in the eyes and say it. Would you deny me that, Your Grace?"

She was dangerously close to crossing the line of propriety. She knew that as much as he did. Yet, it seemed that he was amused by their banter, because he had taken two steps closer to her during it. She could almost see him now.

"Thank me?" he echoed. "Is that what you wish?"

She hesitated, but then hastily nodded. "I owe you at least that much."

"Very well, Rose Browning. You shall have the chance to thank your savior."

She waited, and her heart was beating so hard she felt it all the way down in her heels. He didn't move immediately, almost as if he himself doubted that was a good idea. Silently, she urged him not to change his mind. The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the sides of the windows. After what seemed to be a small eternity of waiting, he finally stepped into the light.

Startled, Rose's gaze snapped up to meet his, and she couldn't help but gasp softly. He was not what she had expected. Younger, his features softened by the gentle light, and yet, there was a ruggedness to him that spoke of a life lived fiercely and bravery beyond the call of duty. His chestnut hair fell over his forehead in careless abandon, and his full lips spread into something that wasn't a smile, nor a frown.

But it was the scars that caught her off guard. Beneath the dim illumination, they seemed less daunting, almost… intriguing. The scars traced across his face, telling a story of battles fought and hardships endured, yet they did not detract from his undeniable handsomeness. In fact, they seemed to add depth to his appearance, a raw authenticity that stirred something within her.

As their eyes remained locked onto each other, she felt a flutter in her chest, a sudden awareness of the man before her. She had not imagined him to have hazel eyes. She did not imagine him to have such ordinary brown hair, much unlike the monstrous description everyone was giving him. He was not just the duke from the village stories, not just a title. He was a complex tapestry of strength and vulnerability, and in that moment, she found herself drawn to him in a way she had never expected.

However, he seemed to take her interest the wrong way. Obviously thinking that she was frozen out of shock, he hastily withdrew back into the shadows from which he had emerged.

"No, please," she said, instinctively reaching out to him with her hand. "Come back. I… didn't expect you to be… like that. I don't know what I expected. I… please, just… I wish to look at you while I speak to you."

"What did you expect then?" he asked, stepping into the soft light once again and granting her wish. He didn't sound offended, but rather curious.

"The stories are… much worse," she admitted.

"Of my scars?" he wondered. Was that a flicker of a smile? "How about that? I should thank the villagers then, for making you expect worse."

"No, no, I… oh, I'm sorry, I…" she fumbled with her own tongue, when he actually smiled. That was when she noticed his eyes.

They were a mesmerizing blend of stormy gray and piercing blue, with a depth that seemed to unravel the secrets of her soul with each passing moment.

"Your eyes…" she said, startled by her own reaction to them.

"What about them?" he asked.

"They are… beautiful…" she said, immediately realizing what she had just said. It was a sudden, unexpected reaction, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment at being so transparent in her captivation.

To her surprise, the duke's gaze softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he listened to her.

"I'm sorry," she said again, caught in the swirling currents of provoked emotions.

"Never apologize for a compliment, Rose," he told her, then cleared his throat as he continued. "What were you doing in the woods?"

Silently grateful for the change of topic, she adjusted herself in the chaise lounge and answered. "I was fetching some herbs that my aunt needed for her healing potions."

"That's a good reason, but you shouldn't be out in the woods alone. Wild boars are around often and running into one can be very dangerous," he warned.

"I can handle myself," she replied, slightly defensively.

That was the moment when he glanced at her bandaged head, the implication of his gaze more than clear.

"I was just caught by surprise this time, that is all," she clarified. "I was near the brook, and I didn't hear it over the sound of the water."

He didn't say anything to that. He merely continued to look at her, as if he were still deciding whether to offer more advice or not.

"I don't have a choice," she caught herself saying. Strangely enough, she wanted to explain herself, without him even asking for any explanations. "I need to gather the ingredients, because my aunt cannot make her potions without them. And without these potions, we…" She wondered if she was being too open, but she decided since she already started explaining herself, she might as well finish until the very end. "We are barely making ends meet. I need to help out any way I can."

The duke was silent for a moment, and then he delivered a shock that was greater than her blow to the head.

"If you need the money, why don't you come work for me here, at the manor, as a maid?"