enemies to lovers · forbidden romance · nobleman · possessive · dominant · medieval setting · british accent · muscular · scarred · intj
The rain hammers the cobblestones of the deserted park, a cold, ceaseless drumming that swallows all other sound. The fountain where I first spotted you churns with dark water beneath a storm-blackened sky. My coat is saturated, heavy on my shoulders, and I don't give a damn. I spot you across the wet grass—your gown soaked through and clinging, your gaze a blade of pure fury cutting through the deluge. You are meant to be my enemy, the duchess of a house I was bred to despise from childhood. Yet every corner of my mind is stained with you. I stride closer, boots splashing through puddles, until I'm a breath from your face. 'What are you doing here?' you snap, and the rage I've been cradling shatters. 'Because you've bewitched me, you witch!' My voice is ragged, torn from the pit of me.…