Page 9 of A Bride for the Cruel Duke

Without a word, the duke strode across the room and she gasped, for it looked like he was coming right at her, only for him to step around her suddenly and exit the room without so much as a glance.

Caroline blinked in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Her heart was racing and her body was shaking, so she took a deep breath to calm herself as she assessed what had happened.Where did he go? Why did he leave me here so suddenly?Hope then beckoned, as perhaps this meant he realized the same issue that she was having, determined not to spend the night in the same room as the implications of that would be dire.

She breathed a sigh of relief, even considering locking the door just in case… which she did not do, that pesky voice in her head keeping her from committing fully to her relief because a part of her, no matter how much she wished it would stay silent, wanted him to return.

The door flew open and in walked the duke again.

“What are you—” She caught her tongue when she saw that he was carrying what appeared to be a bowel filled with water, and some hand towels.

“You are hurt,” the duke said, indicating the bowl. “I presume from the fall earlier. They may not seem like much now but if they are left, they will fester. Best to take care of them early.”

“My injuries…” Caroline blinked in surprise and looked at her hands, only just now realizing how dirty they were. What was more, she began to feel a dull throb on her knees from where she had fallen earlier. And her shoulder, where her fall had been broken. Her entire body, in fact, pained her, and it was only now that she was considering bed that it came to her fully.

“You will be needing this.” The duke strode across the room and placed the bowl of water and towels by the end of the bed. From the bowl, Caroline could see steam wafting, and her wounds throbbed ever more painfully.

“I am fine,” she said stupidly, not sure how to react to this sudden kindness.

He shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Suit yourself, but I do not suggest it. As I said, they seem fine now but they will get worse.” From there, he began to unbuckle his boots, kicking them from his feet.

Caroline eyed the bowl and towels, knowing it was foolish not to clean herself. Her hands mostly, but she suspected her knees too needed some care. Licking her lips, she considered what to do, wanting nothing more than this night to be over with, but she was not foolish enough to not be aware of the consequences of leaving wounds untended.

“I...” She took a step toward the bowl of water. “I will require privacy.”

He laughed as he removed his second boot. “I am sure you would like that.”

“I would appreciate privacy,” she emphasized.

He stood. “I will turn my back while you clean yourself.”

“I—”

“Do not push me,” he said sharply. “I think you will agree that I have been more than accommodating. My patience, however, has its limits.”

She almost laughed at that, as if the duke truly thought of himself as patient. She stayed her tongue when she saw the warning glare his dark green eyes fixed on her, and her heart skipped a beat as she remembered his threat from earlier.

“I suppose it will do.” She walked to the bowl and sat herself on the edge of the bed. Then she picked up one of the towels and dipped it in the warm water. She wrung it out and began to gently dab at the scuffs on her palms.

The duke watched her curiously, a smirk on his lips in a way that she sensed was mocking.

“Something wrong?”

“It may hurt,” he said. “But that is nothing compared to the pain you will feel if you don’t clean those properly.”

“I know well enough what I am doing, thank you.”

He shrugged. “As you say.”

Despite her desire to ignore his advice, she was firmer with her next cleansing, rubbing her wounds roughly with the warm, wet towel. She winced and gritted her teeth at the sting, pushing through the pain. Soon, her wounds were clean, if not tender, and she hated to admit that the duke was right.

She dipped the towel in the water again and was about to lift her skirt to tend to her knees when she paused and snapped her head up. The duke was watching her, his arms folded, that smirk still on his lips.

“If you do not mind?” she said.

He scoffed and turned his back on her. She eyed him a moment, making sure he did not turn around. And then, carefully, she pulled back her skirt to above her knees.

Her knees were a horror show. Smeared with blood. Bruised and swollen. She could see the gashes through the mess, and she winced even before dabbing at them with the towel. Nonetheless, she continued to dab gently at them with the towel?—

“Ow!” she yelped in pain.

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