Page 37 of Her Beast of a Duke
“I… I heard you,” she stammered. “From my room.”
In comfort, she reached out to pet Morris’s head, who still had not moved from his master. The Duke’s eyes dropped to the movement. The dog didn’t seem bothered by her being there at all. If anything, he seemed more relaxed and nosed into her palm.
“You,” Oscar muttered, “are a terrible guard dog.”
Morris merely whined and ducked his head, huffing. Isabella smiled a little, petting the dog’s head more.
“On the contrary,” she countered.
“Isabella…” Oscar trailed off. “You… you called me by my name.”
“I did not know how else to wake you,” she confessed quietly.
Silence fell between them, and only then did she realize how chilly it was in his chamber, and that she was only in her thin nightgown. Her shoulders immediately hunched, as if thatwould help, and she felt her husband’s searing gaze drop to her attire.
She swore the pupils of his eyes grew—the way she only ever read that a man’s did when he waswanting.
But then his expression shut down, and his mouth tightened in the way it often did, and he turned his face away.
“Leave,” he told her.
“What?” she murmured.
“Leave.Leave me be, Isabella. The… the night terrors are not uncommon, so you must get used to them.”
She drew back, her mouth opening to protest, but the glare she received anchored her resolve to keep backing away.
“Fine,” she snapped. “But know I only came in here because I feared your screaming.”
“Everybody fears me in one way or another,” he ground out, even though that was not what she had meant.
Opening her mouth to protest, Isabella stopped herself. It was pointless anyway. Glaring back at him, Isabella finally turned on her heel and left his chambers.
Only after she had done so, she heard footsteps echoing through the hallway. Cocking her head, she listened further at the main door of her chamber.
“No,” she heard a low command, and stiffened.
Oscar.
She listened closer, but after a moment, she could not resist her own curiosity.
She opened her door slowly, watching as Oscar walked down the hallway to the left, carrying a pillow under his arm. Behind him, Morris whined louder.
She whistled quietly to him once Oscar had left the hallway, and Morris looked her way, immediately bounding into her room. She dropped into a crouch, ruffling behind his ears.
“Did he tell you to stay away?” she asked softly. “Such a good boy as you should not be told such a thing. You guard him well, do you not? Yes, you do. Good boy, Morris.”
Morris let out a pained noise as he nuzzled into her palm again.
“Come,” she beckoned, jerking her head for the dog to enter her chambers. “If he will not have you around, then I will. Get comfortable, Morris.”
At first, Morris was hesitant, but as she stepped aside to give him entry, he quickly bolted inside, leaping up onto her bed. She had always wanted a pet, but her mother had never allowed a dog in their residence. She had complained about shedding and the inevitable mess, but she had never talked about the joys a pet could bring.
Isabella returned to her own bed, curling around Morris, who cuddled up into her side. She was petting him immediately, smiling.
“Your master certainly is a confounding man, is he not?” she asked sleepily, her eyes growing heavy.
Morris gave a long sigh as if he agreed, and she soon fell asleep, wondering where on earth her husband had retreated to with his pillow.
