Page 61 of Married to a Frozen Duke
Tonight, they were just two people who'd survived a disaster together. And perhaps that was enough.
"Alexander?" Her voice was sleepy.
"What?"
"We're not actually cursed, you know."
"The evidence suggests otherwise."
"No, the evidence suggests we're interesting."
"I preferred being boring."
"That is a lie."
Maybe she was right. Maybe boring had been... boring.
But he didn't say that. Instead, he lay there listening to her breathing gradually even out into sleep, and thought about how strange life could become in the span of a single day.
This morning, he'd been the Duke of Montclaire, pristine and untouchable.
Tonight, he was in an inn, wearing a borrowed shirt, next to his Coleridge wife who'd destroyed his dignity and somehow made him not entirely hate it.
Progress, indeed.
The last thing he thought before sleep took him was that perhaps the Coleridge curse wasn't about bad luck at all. Perhaps it was about surviving whatever ridiculous thing life threw at you and somehow finding a way to laugh about it.
If so, he was definitely cursed now. But maybe that wasn't entirely bad.
Maybe.…
Chapter Fourteen
Dawn came too early and with it, a pounding on the door.
"Your Graces! Carriage from Montclaire Estate!"
Alexander opened his eyes to find himself nose to nose with Ophelia. Sometime in the night, they'd migrated toward the center of the bed. Not embracing, but close enough that he could see the freckles across her nose that powder usually hid.
She opened her eyes, seemed to realize their proximity, but didn't immediately pull away.
"Survived the night," she said softly.
"Apparently."
"No catastrophes."
"The day's young."
"Such optimism from you this morning."
"It's not morning. Morning is civilized. This is still night pretending."
A knock came again. "Your Graces?"
"We're awake," Alexander called and then said to Ophelia: "We should get ready."
"With what? My clothes are ruined, remember?"
