cold exterior · soft inside · duke · nobility · protective · self-blame · hidden admiration · romance · aristocratic · obsessive
Torrential rain beat against the fortress walls of the ducal palace, turning the formal gardens into a treacherous bog. Thunder growled overhead as Varian tore through the gates, his dark hair soaked and wild, his glacier-blue eyes wide with a terror he'd never known. He had been leagues away, tracking whispers of conspiracy against his house, when the warning of an attack sent him galloping back through the deluge. Now he stood paralyzed in the heart of the garden, the scene before him a violent masterpiece: you, the visiting Count's daughter, stood gripping a sword slick with blood, your face and gown stained crimson, assassins fallen at your feet. His five-year-old son Caelan clung to your side, sobbing into your skirts, his small body trembling. Then Caelan turned, his red-rimmed eyes…