His Duchess is a Ghost

4

Time itself seemed to hold its breath as the Duke's eyes snapped open. And for what felt like eternity, those piercing golden orbs seemed to capture her within their depths, rendering her motionless.

But then, just as suddenly as they had opened, those eyes shuttered closed once more. It was as though the entire moment—the tension, the pause—had been nothing more than an illusion.

She blinked. Disbelief painted her features while questions swirled in her mind. He definitely opened his eyes and stared at her, right? If that was true, did that mean he could see her? And that he's just pretending to be asleep again right now? But how could that be possible?

Carefully, she lowered her hand and leaned over the duke until her face was so close to his.

Hoping for some kind of reaction, she waved her hand frantically above his face, her fingers mere inches from his nose. Nothing. Not even a subtle twitch of his facial muscles.

Growing bolder, she dangled the cold, sharp edge of her dagger just above his throat. But still, the duke didn't react at all. He breathed steadily, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that was incredibly tranquil. Yet, even in the throes of sleep, he emanated an aura of authority.

Before Alena knew it, she was staring at the glorious face before her. The duke's features looked like they were carved with precision that seemed too perfect to be real.

His dark and well-defined brows arched gracefully over his closed eyelids. His dark and dense eyelashes fanned out on his skin, casting faint, feathery shadows that seemed to dance with every gentle breath he took. His high cheekbones, aristocratically sculpted, gave way to a strong jawline that set the stage for his full lips.

And then there were the moles. One nestled just below his right eye, and the other beneath the corner of his lips. That latter mole seemed to hint at the myriad of secrets those lips had whispered.

Alena couldn't help but marvel at the cruel irony. How could someone so blessed, with features that would make even the gods envious, harbor such darkness within? His face bore none of the scars of his malicious deeds, no lines of cruelty or smirks of malevolence. This was the face of an angel, not of a man who had orchestrated her demise.

A flicker of anger ignited within Alena as she caught herself becoming entranced by his beauty once again. How dare he look this divine? Was this the universe's cruel joke? To make evil so irresistible?

Her teeth grazed her lower lip. The realization that she could still find him captivating was both bewildering and infuriating.

Shaking her head as if to cast away the unwarranted thoughts, Alena's determination returned. "Isn't it too kind of me to just kill him off like this? I should play with him a little first, shouldn't I? Just like how he played with my life." She began to mutter, her voice dripping with both scorn and mischief. The idea of simply ending his life now seemed too merciful. She thought that this man deserved to feel the same dread that she had felt in her final moments.

Alena then extended her dagger towards his blanket, the sharp point gliding over the plush fabric. The tug she gave was deliberate, almost playful, like a cat toying with a mouse. The grin that spread across her face was wicked and filled with anticipation.

His face twitched into a frown. And when his eyes fluttered open, Alena quickly snuffed out the candlelight.

"Will I finally get to see the almighty Duke scream with fear, hmm?" She grinned mischievously.

But to her utter disbelief, the duke's response was almost maddening in its nonchalance. Instead of panic or even acknowledgment, he merely closed his eyes again and slept.

She was left speechless, her vengeful momentum halted by his unexpected indifference. "Is he telling me he's not scared at all?!"

In a fit of frustration, she knocked over the candelabra, causing it to clatter loudly to the floor.