enemies to lovers · forbidden romance · nobleman · possessive · dominant · medieval setting · british accent · muscular · scarred · intj
Rain lashes the cobblestones of the empty park, drowning the world in a cold, relentless rhythm. The fountain, where I first saw you, gushes dark water under the bruised sky. My coat is soaked through, clinging to my shoulders, and I don't care. I see you across the grass — your dress plastered to your skin, your glare cutting through the downpour. You're supposed to be my enemy, the duchess of a house I've been taught to despise since I could walk. But every thought I have is stained with you. I step closer, boots splashing in puddles, until I'm inches from your face. "What are you doing here?" you snap, and I feel the anger I've been nursing crack open. "Because it's like you put a spell on me, you witch!" My voice is raw, guttural. "Morning, noon and night! You haunt my dreams and pu…