Page 21 of Duke of the Sun

The Duchess faced him, her eyes wicked with anger. “Your Grace,” she muttered, “You were so kind as to leave me to dine alone for two years. And what was even better, was that you had no reason!”

Michael yanked his gaze away, staring off into the garden. He bit down on his tongue, not daring to say the reckless things he wished to say. Michael kept his stare away from her, not willing to even look her in the eyes. No woman had ever managed to rile him so. Perhaps it was from her infuriating attitude or lack of simple decorum. Perhaps he felt the slightest bit of guilt in the back of his mind for deciding to live at the private estate for so long.

Michael clenched his fists as he faced her again. The remorse trickled out of him as if it was never there in the first place.

“No wonder rumors follow you wherever you go,” he muttered. “Your behavior is as reckless as a child’s. It is as inappropriate as a harlot’s.”

The Duchess gaped. At her side, her arm twitched, just barely raising into the air. Her palm shuttered, as if her skin imagined striking the side of his face. He merely remained steadfast, holding her stare and not daring to back down. Her hesitation settled for too long, and the Duchess retracted, holding her arms firmly at her sides.

“I have no plans on taking advice on manners from a man like you,” she whispered.

“Perhaps you should consider it.”

The Duchess leaned, inching the slightest bit closer to his face. “Just because you decided to remember that you had a wife does not mean I will suddenly regard you as a husband.”

Michael, filled with an emotion he could not understand, surged forward, closing the gap between them. Despite her height being raised by the pedestal, he stepped onto the ground directly beside it, raising himself to be directly beneath her. The breath hitched in her throat, her eyes widening as they took in his entire face.

Being that close, Michael could see the sweat lining her temples, brown curls sticking to the side of her face. Green eyes, green like the emerald he remembered to be on his walls, stared back at him. Michael glanced down at her rosy red lips, entranced for a moment as her breath wafted against his face.

He looked back into her eyes. “I do not expect or ask you to act like my wife,” he muttered. “But I refuse to accept even the slightest bit of respect from you.Iam your husband, and you will take your meals with me, as you should.”

The Duchess didn’t speak a word, didn’t even breathe.

Michael took in her face once more, and stepped backwards. Without even a bow, he stormed off, climbing the hill back towards the estate. All the while, his hands twitched and trembled at his side, a series of chills crawling up his spine. The feelings coursing within him refused to make the slightest bit of sense, but haunted him all the way back.

CHAPTER7

The next morning, as Cordelia made her way down to the orangery, she saw something incredibly peculiar. Down by the hedge maze, where the orangery was beginning to take on its final shape, Hunters stood in front of the gathering group of hired men. He held a hand over his eyes to block out the sun’s gaze, pointing in certain directions and shouting orders. She approached faster, gathering up her skirts.

As she came closer, the workers eyed her pleasantly. She gave them nods and waves as she made her way over to the butler.

“Good morning, Hunters,” Cordelia called out to him.

Hunters turned around and gave her a polite bow. “It is a pleasant day to spend outside, your Grace,” he said. “Though, I am afraid you won’t get to enjoy it as much as I.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Whatever for?”

“The Duke is expecting you in the dining room.”

Cordelia frowned. “Not this again.”

The butler turned away from the hired men as they began to get to work. “Perhaps you might consider going, your Grace. Even if it is just this once.”

She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. “I see no reason to. The Duke disrespected me in more ways than one yesterday.”

“Your Grace,” Hunters began, “You do know the proper ways of dining with your husband, don’t you?”

Cordelia glanced at him from the corner of her eye before letting out a tired sigh. “Of course I know those things, Hunters,” she muttered. “But…I told him how much I needed your help. His response was to berate me for following through with it. Perhaps I might have been able to dine with him if he allowed you to help me. Did you ever consider that?”

Hunters nodded. “I suppose that very much well could’ve been the case, your Grace,” he said. “But, unfortunately, it wasn’t.”

“I have no plans to fall to his every whim.”

The butler gave her a small smile. “Iamhere now, aren’t I?”

“Just because the beastly Duke decided to hand you over once does not change a handful of discretions.”

“Of course not,” he replied.

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