Page 22 of Her Runaway Duke
His towel covered the bottom of his face and draped over the middle of his body. Siena felt rather wanton for wishing that she could see more of him, as her eyes couldn’t stop returning to where his manhood was hiding.
The duke finished drying his face, lowering the towel and lifting his chin.
When he caught sight of her, he froze, his one good eye locked upon her. For once, he wasn’t wearing the patch over his left eye, which was sealed shut, the skin around it cracked and red.
She gasped at how painful it must be, and that was when his face twisted until he was wearing the same nasty scowl he had when he had first shown his entire face to her.
“What are you doing?” he growled at her as he wrapped the towel around his body, hiding himself.
“I-I was exploring the bedrooms, l-looking for art,” she said, stammering at the anger that emanated from him.
“In my bedroom?” he said, the volume of his voice rising.
“I didn’t know this was your bedroom,” she said, her arms flailing wildly as she tried to explain. “If I had any idea, I would never have entered.”
“Wouldn’t want to see this monstrosity, would you?” he sneered, and she stepped back as though he had slapped her, such was his ire.
“It’s not that,” she said. “I j-just wouldn’t want?—”
“Get out,” he said, his voice calm, low, even, and she took a step back, nodding, although her feet wouldn’t seem to move of their own accord.
“I said get out!” he shouted now, and she jumped, tears welling in her eyes as she quickly backed out of the room, slamming the door behind her as she ran down the corridor as though she was being chased.
She made it all the way to her own bedroom, where she threw her writing materials down on the bed before collapsing in the middle of it and allowing the sobs to emerge.
CHAPTER 8
How had her life come to this? To being shouted at by a reclusive duke for only doing what she thought would help him?
Siena wasn’t sure how long she remained prostrate on her bed feeling sorry for herself before a slight knock sounded on the door. She wanted to tell the person to go away, to leave her alone, but, of course, not wanting to hurt any feelings as the duke had hers, she sniffed, wiped her eyes, and called out a watery, “come in.”
Mary stood in the door, a hesitant smile on her face.
“I heard the shouting, my lady. Are you all right?”
“I am fine, Mary, thank you,” Siena said, dipping her head, pulling at the embroidery that covered the pink bedspread. “I am afraid that I am not very welcome here, is all. I am trying to be helpful, but I seem to only become more of a burden.”
“’Tis not your fault, my lady,” Mary said, taking a step into the room and shutting the door behind her. She took a seat on the bench in front of the vanity, close enough that they could speak in lowered voices but not so close that she was in Siena’s space. “The duke has had a trying time of it, and I am afraid thatany who become close to him often face his wrath. It has naught to do with you.”
Siena nodded. “It is not just that. It is also that I simply am not welcome anywhere. I cannot return home. The duke does not want me here. I do have a house to go to, but until the roads are passable, I will not be able to get there. I cannot even send a letter to my friend. I would say I am a prisoner here, except that my jailor has more interest in setting me free than I do myself.”
She laughed wryly at that, and Mary tilted her head as she studied her.
“Well, know this, my lady. You have a friend in each of us here. I know it seems the duke can be hurtful, but the truth is, it is good to see him with others in his presence. It has been a year since his brother’s death, and he has had nearly no visitors in that time, save for one determined friend.”
“It seems I have only left one beast to find another.”
Mary lifted her hand to try to hide her gasp. “That is how the duke describes himself. Has he said the word to you?”
“A beast?” Siena furrowed her brow. “I only called him such because of the way he has treated me.”
“I wouldn’t repeat it around him. He will think you mean his scars.”
“His scars are the least concerning of all of him!” Siena said, shocked. “Is that why he has hidden himself away?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Mary asked, and Siena had to pause, considering it. The question, however, was such a different one, for as a woman, she lacked most choice that was associated with such a decision.
“I am not certain what I would do,” she admitted. “But if I had the option, I would prefer to continue to be close to those I love.”
