Page 11 of An Accidental Bride for the Duke
“Y—yes,” she yelped. “I… understand.”
“Good girl.” Still holding her, he kept his lips by her ear. His grip tightened. His fingers on her chin stroked gently. Iris was not in her mind; her body took over and it ran so hot she thought she might explode.
And then, as quickly as it had started, the duke ended it.
He released her and took a quick step back. His expression was once again impassive and although she had no doubt that he could see clearly what he had done to her, he gave no indication of the fact.
“We leave in the morning,” he said simply. “I suggest you get your rest, wife.” With that, he turned and strode from the room, not so much as looking back once.
Iris stood frozen in the room’s center.
Her body was still shaking. She was so hot that she thought her shift might catch fire. Struggling to breathe, skin tingling all over, it was all she could do to not collapse on the floor.
I don’t… I can’t… What was…
She had no idea how to explain what had just happened. The why of it. The how. This was not her world and never before had she felt so innocent and unprepared.
Despite her objections to the duke, regardless of what she told herself, she knew then that things were infinitely more complex than she had initially thought. And more dangerous because of it.
Chapter Four
Following the previous night’s discussion, Iris decided that perhaps it was time to approach this marriage with a newfound sense of optimism.
He might not be the perfect husband. He certainly isn’t the husband that I wanted. But I am stuck with him and if last night proved anything it is that there is more to him than I initially thought.
She considered what he had told her about his views on this marriage, that he wanted it no more than she and that he too had been backed into a corner; one brought about by an adherence to keeping his family’s name protected. She reminded herself of the so-called ‘rules’ he had put into place, perhaps not indicative of happiness to come, but suggesting that he wasn’t prepared to ignore her entirely. That he understood too that she was struggling as he was and if they worked together then things might not be as bad as they could be.
And most importantly, she remembered how she had felt when he’d held her, leaned in and whispered to her ear and told her exactly what was to come… and how her body had reacted.
It would not be a perfect marriage but if she was to at least try and make the most of it, it might not be the worst either.
We are to spend the rest of our lives together. And I just know that if we both do our best we might find something… companionship… a way to live together without all the tension and antipathy that exists right now in droves.
And so it was when she climbed into the carriage the following morning, a renewed sense of purpose that she hoped would be proven justified.
Ten minutes later and Iris was back to feeling as she had the previous day.
“How did you sleep?” she asked Philip once the carriage began to move.
“Fine,” he said without looking at her. He sat in the corner of the carriage, turned to face the window.
“That is good,” Iris attempted. “I myself often find it difficult to sleep in strange beds.” A nervous laugh. “Not that I make a habit of such a thing.”
Philip said nothing. He did not look at her. He did not so much as smile.
“I am wondering also, how long will today’s journey take?” She waited for an answer that did not come. “Just so I can prepare myself,” she followed up. “An hour? Two? You were not very clear.”
The duke continued to gaze out the window. “We should arrive shortly before sundown.”
“Ah, so a long day, then.” She clicked her tongue, watching Philip closely, trying to discern what he might be thinking. “I do wish I had brought something to read. Passing the time might not be such a task if I had.”
Again, Philip said nothing. But this time, she saw the way his jaw clenched, just as his foot began to tap. It wasn’t that he was distracted and did not realize what she was doing. It was that he did not care, wanting her to say nothing, to sit meekly, to pretend to be invisible so he would not need to waste his time with her.
“Silence then.” There was a curtness to her tone that time, brought from desperation to elicit a reaction from her husband. “How fun for us.” She narrowed her eyes and still got no response. “A sign of things to come? Or was your sleep truly that awful?”
More silence, purposeful and heavy.
“Wonderful,” she sighed as the realization set in. “Good to know.”
