Page 6 of Duke of the Sun

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Solshire’s estate was brooding and medieval, something she had never seen before. Spire-like towers rose around the main building, an unkempt garden wrapping around the side. The inside was as bone-chilling as the outside. The walls were painted dark colors, the curtains draped across almost all the windows. Some rooms had white cloths pulled over the furniture, as if they hadn’t been lived in for some time.

Blood red carpets lined some of the hallways, ominous portraits giving off the impression of following Cordelia every time she passed them by. The staff, all with long faces and narrowed eyes, gave her the respect of a Duchess, but nothing more. For the most part, as night fell across Solshire, Cordelia was all alone.

When they arrived at the estate, the Duke clamoured out of the carriage first, extending a hand towards her. Cordelia paused, her hand hovering above his own. Once again, her gaze clung to the odd scars that surfaced his skin. They were like brushstrokes, striking along the divots and natural lines of his palms. She wanted to trace them, to retrieve her canvas and paint the unnaturally large and intimidating shape of his hands.

The Duke suddenly grasped onto her hand.

He’s so cold,was the only thing Cordelia could think as he helped her out the carriage.

He snapped his hand out of her own the moment her feet were on the ground. “The housekeeper will show you to your room,” he said gruffly, his hands tightening and relaxing at his sides repeatedly. The Duke gave her a short bow before storming off in the opposite direction, going nowhere near the estate’s front doors.

“Your Grace,” an older woman said to her right as the footmen carried her trunks out from the carriage. “I am Mrs. Bellflower, the housekeeper. Please follow me.”

“Quite the charming name,” Cordelia said as the housekeeper led her through the estate. She was haunted by the ominous feel of the halls that she craved some sort of discourse to distract her. “Bellflower.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Bellflower said, not once letting up on her speed. “Meadow Bellflowers grew alongside my family home growing up.” She looked over her shoulder. “Not that the two are related, your Grace.”

“Do you know where the Duke has gone?”

Mrs. Bellflower was silent for a moment, slowing down her pace to be more at Cordelia’s side. “I’m afraid I do not, your Grace.”

“Shall I expect dinner with him?”

The housekeeper came to a room, opening the door and glancing over at her with a pitiful smile. “I wouldn’t know, your Grace.”

“Well,” Cordelia said, trying to give her a reassuring smile, “Youarethe housekeeper, after all.”

Mrs. Bellflower motioned for Cordelia to enter the room. “I will send you word the moment I know, your Grace,” she said. “For now, I hope you will get settled. If there is anything your chambers are lacking, don’t hesitate to let the staff know.” The housekeeper gave her a polite curtsey before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

Cordelia glanced around the room. It was large but still managed to frighten her. “What is it about Solshire,” she murmured to herself as she sulked through the chambers, “That is so unbelievably gloomy?”

Even the furniture, carved from a deeply brown oak, had a somber twist to it. Perhaps she was too used to everything at Darkenhill, where pastel artwork hung on the walls and cherry colored curtains pulled back to let the sterling sun stream in.Speaking of curtains!

Cordelia crossed the room to her window. They were all tall, almost reaching the ceiling, but were covered with the dreary curtains. Even though the sun was beginning to set, she imagined the view was not something to ignore. Cordelia grasped onto the curtains and pulled, releasing a plume of dust into the air.

After a few minutes spent coughing and swiping at the air, Cordelia could finally peer out the window. The view was jaw dropping. As an avid artist, Cordelia saw the world in a different way than most people. She saw the brush of color, the strike of a brush, the flow of a line. It was alluring as it was magnetic. She craved to recreate it, to do it herself across blank canvas. Even then, as she looked over the Dukedom of Solshire, something once so frightening, she felt the slightest glimmer of hope.

“Well,” Cordelia murmured as she pushed open the window, letting the cool early evening breeze into the stuffy room, “I amstillquite frightened.”

Something in her gut told her that she wouldn’t be seeing her beastly husband that evening, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Nothing felt ordinary when there was a man like Michael Rayson involved. Cordelia couldn’t recall a time when she came across a Duke like him, who obviously had no intention of staying around people for longer than a moment or two. While, normally, she might find herself feeling the same way, Cordelia was in no way a beastly character.

“No,” she said, firmly into the wind as she leaned out the window. “Though, I amquiteworried.”

The door slammed open and smacked noisily against the wall. Cordelia yelped in surprise, teetering on the edge of the window. Fear burst through her as she grasped at the wall, unaware of how close she came to falling out of the bedroom window. As she staggered and gasped in fright, an icy cold hand snatched onto her wrist, tugging her without warning back into the dark room.

Cordelia stumbled forward, her face coming in contact with a sturdy chest. Before she could come to her senses, the same cold hands grasped onto her arms, yanking her off the chest she collapsed upon.

Immediately she was met with the Duke. He loomed over her like a towering statue, his eyes wide and wild with an unmistakable fury. His grip tightened against her as he shook, teeth clenched so hard that the muscles in his face looked taut with tension.

“Have you gonemad?” he hissed.

Cordelia blinked, too gobsmacked by his sudden presence to respond. “I-I-”

The Duke let out a frustrated groan before releasing his hold on her. He paced the length of the room, his hands trembling at his sides. “You truly are mad, aren’t you?” He shook his head rapidly. “This is the wife I have been granted. A crazed wife. A delusional wife.”

“I beg your pardon!” Cordelia snapped, finally returning to her senses. The cold breeze from the opened window brushed by her hair. “What have I done to earn such an insult from a man I hardly even know?”

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