He Is Just My Type!

It had grown quiet and awkward again, but what intensified the discomfort inside Damien's study was his intense gaze fixated on Rosalie's right hand, compelling her to eventually conceal it within the folds of her skirt. Just as she prepared to execute her plan, the Duke unexpectedly seized her wrist, his face contorted with a blend of subtle fear and confusion.

'She is so thin, I could hold both her wrists in one hand...'

Alarmed by the realization, he loosened his grip, afraid of causing harm, and spoke with genuine sadness in his voice.

"Ugh... You're injured, Lady Rosalie."

"Ah!"

Overwhelmed by her emotions, Rosalie exclaimed loudly, startling Damien, and prompting him to release her hand.

"Oh, I apologize. Did it hurt?"

"No, it's just... I got startled, and... I thought you were appalled by the sight of my scar."

Damien's eyes widened, and a blush colored his cheeks. It was intriguing how easily he could blush. He shook his head and almost shouted,