A DUKE'S CRIMSON SCANDAL

"I’m sorry I can’t let you in," Finn politely spoke, standing his ground in front of the Duke’s chamber door.

Rowan stood in front of the guard with disbelief written all over his face.

"You won’t let me through?" Rowan asked slowly.

Finn nodded once. "I am only following the Duke’s orders," he said.

Rowan chuckled lowly, looking at Finn with a different realisation... stubborn.

He always thought the Duke’s chamber guard was quiet, compliant, but these few days, he had come to realise that Finn had his own quiet backbone. No wonder Lucien chose him.

But he wasn’t about to let this young guard insult him again; it was starting to look like a habit.

"I am ordering you," Rowan stated.

Finn nodded. "His Grace ordered me, too–"

"You son of a–"

"Rowan," Soren’s calm voice called from behind, pausing Rowan’s hand that was already reaching to pull Finn out of his way.

Rowan glared at Finn and cleared his throat. "I am a gentleman, Finn. Stop making me act like I’m not one," he hissed before turning to face Soren, who was now standing right behind him.

"Why are you harassing the guard, Rowan?" Soren questioned.

Rowan gave him an incredulous look. "I am harassing? He is harassing," he scoffed.

"He is refusing to let me see my cousin. It’s been a week; do you not feel it is a deliberate insult?" Rowan asked with a frown.

Soren sighed. "He is merely following orders," he said.

Rowan smiled. "But he lets you through," he pointed out.

Soren sighed. "I am treating His Grace, Rowan."

He stepped closer, placing himself slightly between Rowan and Finn. His grey eyes softened as he looked at the young guard.

"Finn," Soren said gently, "a visit from family is good for a recovering patient. Isolation can slow the healing of both body and mind. Let Lord Rowan through... just for a short while. I’ll take responsibility if His Grace is displeased."

Finn hesitated. His gaze flicked from Soren’s calm face to Rowan’s still-irritated expression. For a moment the quiet tension between the three of them thickened. Rowan’s sharp energy, Soren’s steady presence, and Finn’s quiet, unyielding loyalty created a strange undercurrent — something unspoken and charged that none of them fully acknowledged.

Finn’s shoulders lowered slightly. "Very well, Doctor," he said at last. "A short visit. But if His Grace wakes and orders you out, I will not interfere."

Rowan released a short breath, the edge of his earlier anger fading into something closer to reluctant amusement. "See? That wasn’t so difficult."

Soren shot him a mild look. "Don’t push it."

As Finn stepped aside, the three of them lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Rowan’s eyes briefly met Finn’s — a silent challenge mixed with reluctant respect. Soren’s gaze moved between them both, quiet and observant, as if cataloguing the shift in the air.

Rowan brushed past Finn, deliberately close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "Thank you, Guard," he murmured, the words carrying a low undercurrent that made Finn’s jaw tighten almost imperceptibly.

Soren followed, his voice soft as he passed. "You did the right thing."

Finn only nodded once, returning to his post, but the tips of his ears had turned faintly pink.

Inside the chamber, Lucien stood in front of the window, still looking tired but with no more pains... only the ache in his heart remained. His eyes were closed, yet the moment the door opened he spoke without looking.

"I ordered no visitors."

Rowan smirked as he approached the window. "And yet here I am. Blame your doctor. He has smooth words... and apparently some influence over your stubborn guard."

Soren closed the door quietly behind them, the faintest smile touching his lips as he watched the two cousins.

"How are you feeling?" Soren questioned.

Lucien sighed. "I’m fine."

"You say that only for me to clear that you’re ready to travel out again, not because you’re truly fine," Soren stated.

Lucien clenched his jaw. "I need to find him, Soren," he murmured.

"Well, you won’t find him when you’re dead or unable to move," Rowan implied.

Lucien went quiet, replaying the way Elian had smiled at him a week ago, so calm, so unfamiliar, so... memory-free.

"Cassian did something to him," he said, balling his fists behind him.

"I don’t think so, Your Grace." Soren shook his head. "It is just like I have said many times now... falling that high off a cliff and onto a river has a lot of medical repercussions. Memory loss is one of those –"

"Nonsense!" Lucien snapped his head to Soren, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Are you saying Elian really has no recollection of me? Of us? Of what we had, our moments–"

"Lucien," Rowan called quietly, silencing his spiralling cousin. "Perhaps you should really sit down and think about all of this," he said.

Lucien frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean–"

"Rowan..." Soren called, sensing Rowan was about to say something that would only worsen Lucien’s mood.

But Rowan ignored him and continued anyway. "I mean, maybe it is good he lost his memories. There was really nothing for him to remember... he suffered... you made him suffer." He spoke calmly, holding Lucien’s gaze.

Lucien slowly moved over to stand in front of Rowan, his green eyes intense and threatening. "I will not deny he suffered. But that was not the only thing we had–"

"Tell me what else, sex? If it’s just sex, then I’m sure Cassian is giving him just that. Anyone can perform –"

"This is your limit, cousin... one more word and you will hate the consequences that follow." Lucien leaned his face closer to Rowan as he threatened.

Rowan scoffed. "Just saying." He took a small step away from Lucien, shrugging.

"I am starting to think your chamber guard possesses some special ability to sense people’s intentions... he did not want to let Rowan through because he sensed he was coming to give you more trouble," Soren stated, narrowing his eyes in deliberation.

"I am not giving him trouble. I am simply giving him a wake-up call that he might get what he is searching for."

Lucien’s eyes darkened further. "And what exactly do you think I am searching for, Rowan?"

Rowan held his ground, though the sharp edge in Lucien’s voice made the air between them tighten. "Closure. Or maybe forgiveness. Or perhaps the version of Elian who still looked at you like you were worth the pain." He shrugged lightly. "Whatever it is, chasing a man who no longer remembers you will only break you faster than that fever ever could."

Soren stepped closer, placing a calm hand on Lucien’s arm. "Enough. Both of you. This is not helping."

Lucien shrugged the hand off, but the movement lacked its usual strength. He turned back toward the window, staring out at the distant gardens as if he could still see the long-haired figure kneeling beside the bunny.

"He smiled at me," Lucien said quietly, almost to himself. "Not the way he used to. Not with anger or longing or that stubborn fire. Just... politely. Like a stranger offering kindness to a sick man." His jaw tightened. "Cassian has him. And I will not rest until I take him back."

Rowan exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "And if he doesn’t want to come back? If the Elian you find is no longer the one who loved you?"

Silence stretched between them.

Soren finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Then you will have to decide whether you love the man as he is now... or only the memory of who he used to be."

Lucien did not answer. His reflection in the glass looked older, hollowed out by weeks of fever and obsession.

After a long moment, Lucien spoke again, voice low and resolute.

"I will find him. And when I do... I will make him remember."

Rowan and Soren exchanged a glance behind his back — one filled with quiet concern, and something else neither of them was ready to name.

The recovery continued, but the hunt for Elian had already begun anew in Lucien’s mind.

---

The next morning, Lucien surprised everyone by resuming like he used to, dressed in his royal attire and acting like the disciplined, perfect Duke he was.

"Summon Rowan," he said to Finn as he headed to his study.

Finn nodded and immediately went to find Rowan.

Outside, the morning sun was warm as servants walked around the courtyard, going about their duties.

"Excuse me," he said to a maid walking up the stairs.

"May I help you, Finn?" she asked.

"Lord Rowan, have you seen him?" he asked politely.

She cleared her throat and looked away. "...the store... behind the kitchen," she murmured and quickly walked away.

Finn followed the maid’s hesitant direction toward the store behind the kitchen. The corridor was quiet at this early hour, the air still carrying the faint scent of flour and dried herbs. He paused outside the wooden door when he heard muffled sounds from within — soft gasps, the rustle of fabric, and a low, familiar voice.

He pushed the door open without knocking.

The sight that met him stopped him cold.

Rowan had a maid pinned against the stacked sacks of grain, her skirts hiked high around her waist. His trousers were open, hips moving in steady, purposeful thrusts as he fucked her with clear, selfish focus. One of his hands covered her mouth to keep her quiet, while the other gripped her hip hard enough to leave marks. The maid’s eyes were half-lidded in pleasure, her muffled moans spilling past Rowan’s fingers.

Finn stood frozen in the doorway.

Rowan’s rhythm faltered the moment he registered the presence behind him. He turned his head, still buried deep inside the maid, and locked eyes with Finn. A slow, unapologetic smirk curved his lips even as he finished with a few final, sharp thrusts. The maid shuddered against him, her cry muffled by his hand.

Only then did Rowan pull out, tucking himself back into his trousers with deliberate calm. He released the maid and gave her a light smack on the hip.

"Go," he ordered quietly.

The maid hurriedly straightened her skirts, face flushed, and slipped past Finn without meeting his eyes.

Silence settled between the two men.

Rowan leaned back against the sacks, still slightly breathless, and regarded Finn with open amusement. "Well. That was poor timing... or excellent timing, depending on how you look at it."

Finn’s jaw tightened. A faint flush rose along his neck, but his voice remained steady. "His Grace is summoning you."

Rowan pushed off the sacks and stepped closer, closing the distance until Finn had to tilt his head slightly to hold his gaze. The air between them thickened with the same charged undercurrent that had lingered in the hallway the day before.

"You could have waited outside," Rowan murmured, eyes drifting briefly over Finn’s face. "Or is watching part of your duties now, Guard?"

Finn did not look away. "I was ordered to find you. I found you."

Rowan’s smirk deepened. He reached out and brushed an invisible speck of dust from Finn’s shoulder, the touch lingering a second longer than necessary.

"Tell my cousin I’ll be there shortly," he said, voice low. "After I wash my hands."

He stepped past Finn, close enough that their arms brushed. The faint scent of sex and expensive cologne clung to him as he walked away, leaving Finn standing alone in the doorway of the store, ears faintly pink once more and the quiet tension between them sharper than ever.

The morning continued, but the unspoken current between Rowan and Finn had just grown considerably more complicated.