Reborn as the duke's chosen bride

The first time I saw him, I understood why people called him a beast. Not because of rumors. Not because of fear. Not because he was truly a beast. But because the air itself seemed to change the moment Duke Magnus Ironhart stepped into the hall. The carriage ride to Ironhart territory had already drained me of patience. The roads were rough, the guards stared like I was either mad or already dead, and every noble I passed whispered the same thing: “The Croft girl has lost her mind.” They didn’t know how right they were. Because I had already died once. And I had come back for him. The gates of Ironhart Manor rose like a warning. Black stone, sharp iron designs, banners dark enough to swallow sunlight. Even the wind here felt heavier, like it carried something alive beneath it. A servant led me through long corridors that smelled faintly of steel and smoke. Not warmth. Not comfort. Just… power. And then the doors opened. He was already there. Duke Magnus Ironhart stood by the tall window, back turned to me at first. Broad shoulders. Stillness like a drawn blade. His presence alone made the guards outside look unnecessary. When he finally turned, I understood the rest of the rumors. Golden eyes. Not warm gold. Not gentle gold. The kind of gold you see in a predator's gaze right before it decides whether you live or die. A faint scar ran across his jaw. Another along his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. He didn’t hide them. He wore them like proof. “So,” his voice came, low and rough like gravel dragged across stone. “You’re the Croft girl.” I didn’t bow. I didn’t tremble. I simply stepped forward. “Yes,” I said. “Rova Croft.” A pause. Then a slow, almost mocking tilt of his head. “The one they call the Delicate Flower.” Something sharp flickered behind his eyes, like he found the title amusing. I smiled faintly. “I’ve been called worse.” That made him still. Not because it impressed him. Because it didn’t fit. Most people came here already broken. Already afraid. Already begging without speaking. But I wasn’t here to beg. He stepped away from the window, finally facing me fully. The distance between us suddenly felt smaller—and more dangerous. “You came into my territory,” he said, “alone.” “I did.” “That’s either stupidity,” his gaze narrowed slightly, “or confidence.” “Maybe both.” A silence stretched. The kind that tested bones. Then he exhaled slowly, like I was something mildly inconvenient rather than interesting. “Speak,” he said. “Why are you here? I was to come and pick a wife in a few days,you don’t seem like the type they would send willingly.” At the mention of Croft, something cold brushed through my chest. Not pain. Memory. I kept my expression smooth. “I came to make a proposal.” “A marriage proposal” That got a reaction. Not surprise. Amusement. His lips curved slightly, but it wasn’t kind. “A proposal,” he repeated. “To me.” “Yes.” A soft chuckle escaped him, but it held no warmth. “You’re standing in front of a man people call a beast,” he said slowly. “And you think marriage is something I accept like trade?” My gaze didn’t waver. “I think,” I said carefully, “you’re a man who understands value.” The air shifted. His eyes sharpened. I continued before he could interrupt. “I also think you understand usefulness. Power. Control.” My voice stayed steady. “And I think you’re tired of noble puppets pretending to be loyal.” A pause. Then his voice dropped. “You think a girl like you can offer me that?” “I know I can.” That time, the silence was heavier. He stepped closer. One step. Then another. Close enough now that I could see the faint gold specks in his eyes, like something burning beneath glass. “You’re standing in front of a werebeast Duke,” he said quietly. “Do you understand what that means?” I tilted my head slightly. “I understand better than most.” A flicker of something crossed his face. Not anger. Interest. But it vanished quickly, replaced with something colder. “You’re either brave,” he said, “or reckless.” “I’ve been both.” That made him pause again. He studied me longer this time. Not like a noble assessing a bride. Like a predator deciding if something was worth tearing apart. “You smell of Croft blood,” he said suddenly coming closer My fingers tightened slightly inside my sleeves. But I didn’t move. “I am Croft blood,” I replied. A faint shift in his expression. Then, softer—almost like he was talking to himself: “And yet… you don’t smell afraid.” I almost smiled. Because I had been afraid. In my first life. And it had killed me. “I’m not here to fear you,” I said. His gaze darkened slightly. That was the wrong answer for most people. But I wasn’t most people. He turned away from me briefly, walking a few steps like he needed space just to tolerate the conversation. His hand brushed the edge of a table, fingers tapping once. Controlled. Measured. When he spoke again, his voice was colder. “Leave.” One word. Final. Simple. I walked closely,and put my hand on his back That earned me a glance over his shoulder. “I said leave,” he repeated. “I heard you.” “Then obey.” That word—obey—hung between us like a chain. His eyes narrowed immediately. “I’m not here to waste your time,” I said calmly rubbing my hands through his back “And I don’t intend to repeat myself either.” A low sound escaped him. Almost a laugh. Almost irritation. “You’re standing in my manor,” he said, “refusing orders from a Duke who could end your life before you finish that sentence.” “I know.” “Yet you still speak like that.” “Yes.” Another pause. This one lasted longer. Something shifted in him again. Not softness. But attention. Like I had finally become worth listening to. I exhaled slowly. “I’m offering you a marriage alliance,” I said plainly. “Nothing more complicated than that.” His gaze snapped back to me instantly. “That’s it?” “Yes.” “No schemes?” he asked. “No noble manipulation? No desperate plea for protection?” I shook my head. “I don’t need protection.” A dangerous silence followed. Then he took another step closer. Now there was barely space between us. His presence was overwhelming up close—like standing too near a storm that hadn’t decided whether to destroy or pass by. “You’re interesting,” he said quietly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “It’s not.” I hummed lightly. “Then I’ll take it anyway.” That earned me a sharper look. He came closer,very close,his hands raise to my chin lifting it up “You do know about the details of marriage?” “Ofcourse I do” I say looking at his golden eyes His lips came forward towards mine and I did not waver. His grabs me by the waist close to him My breath hitched “Are you nervous?”he ask his voice low “I am not” I say raising my hands to touch his cheeks and he looked stunned He let me go For a moment, I thought he might actually throw me out. Instead, he spoke slower. “You should leave this place,” he said. “Ironhart does not entertain fragile flowers.” I almost laughed at that. If only he knew. I lifted my chin slightly. “I’m not fragile.” His eyes narrowed. “No?” he said quietly. “Then what are you?” I met his gaze directly. Something in my chest tightened—but I didn’t break eye contact. “A woman making a choice,” I said. That line made something in him shift again. He studied me for a long time after that. Long enough that the silence stopped feeling like rejection and started feeling like evaluation. Finally, he turned away again. “You’re wasting your time,” he said. “No,” I replied softly. “I’m investing it.” That made him stop completely. The room fell still. He turned his head slightly. “You’re persistent,” he said. “Maybe.” “And foolish.” “Possibly.” Another pause. Then— “I don’t accept marriage proposals from strangers who walk into my home and talk like they own it.” I nodded once. “That’s fair.” “But,” he added slowly, “you’re not trembling.” “I told you.” “That’s what makes this annoying.” I almost smiled again. Finally. A crack. Not in him. In the situation. He turned fully toward me again, expression unreadable now. “I will not decide this immediately,” he said. “I don’t trust sudden offers.” I inclined my head slightly. “I didn’t expect you to.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Then why are you here?” “Because I only needed you to listen,” I said. That surprised him. Just slightly. I saw it. Good. I turned slightly toward the door, then paused. “One more thing,” I added. “What?” I looked back at him. His golden eyes watched me carefully now. “I’m not asking you to trust me,” I said. “Just meet me properly.” A faint frown. “What does that mean?” “I want you to come see me,” I said simply. A beat. Then his voice dropped. “Where.” I smiled faintly. “My home.” A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. Then he exhaled slowly. “You’re bold,” he said. “I’ve been told that too.” He studied me again, longer this time. Then, finally— “I will come in three days,” he said. My heart didn’t jump. It simply… settled. As if it had already expected this answer. “And if this is a trap,” he added, voice colder again, “you will regret walking into my territory alone.” I nodded once. “I understand.” A pause. Then he turned away, ending the conversation as if it had already been decided. “Three days,” he repeated. I stepped toward the door. But before I left, I spoke one last time. “Duke Magnus.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. I held his gaze. “I’m glad you agreed.” And then I walked out. Behind me, I could still feel his eyes. Not on a fragile flower. But on something he couldn’t quite name yet.