Page 59 of A Duke in Her Fate
“Of course it is. It’s not as though I’m gadding about town in desperate search of new friends and entertainment,” he added, the pointed comment toppling off his tongue before he had thought it through.
Perhaps that was a mite much.
“Excuse me?” She climbed onto her knees. At this angle, her face was nearly cast in shadow with the fire behind her. It made her hair look all the redder, like it was on fire. The fierce woman demanded, “Are you accusing me of something?”
He forced himself to look away. “Not at all. Do as you please.”
“I shall!”
“Good. Fine. I don’t care.”
“Except I think you do,” Isla snapped. Her tone was harsher than he anticipated.
Surprise had him meeting her gaze. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he couldn’t seem to find his words. Maybe this wasall a mistake. What was he doing here? Ronan swallowed but couldn’t speak.
How can she be upset when I’m not happy about her behavior? I mean, I’m not. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.
“You made it clear,” she carried on as she came to her feet. She stepped on her dress at one point, nearly toppling over. But she was too far for him to catch her and when he reached out, she waved him off. “You made it clear,” she repeated, “that there is nothing between us. You have me by name of marriage. It is a mere partnership. Convenience, yes? There is nothing more between us. Certainly not romantic. So what different does it make who I speak to?”
He opened his mouth but couldn’t find his voice.
It didn’t matter. Isla stomped out without giving him time to answer. He heard her steps all the way out of the room and down the hall until he was alone.
The flames of the fire before him flickered almost like they laughed, mocking him. He frowned. Dumping his chin in his hands, he stared and brooded at the fire while replaying Isla’s hard words over and over.
CHAPTER 22
“Absolutely impossible!”
Isla huffed angrily as she paced about the dark kitchen where she’d set some milk to heat up. A second candle was lit so she wouldn’t stub her toe. All was quiet except of the mad dash of her heart beat and her angry mutterings.
It couldn’t be helped, not really. She had married a most distracting and annoying gentleman. If he could even call himself that.
“A cur. A coxcomb. A fool,” she ranted.
First Isla tried to control herself by folding her arms together, holding them tight. But then she felt too bound. Too restricted. Just like the duke she had married was treating her.
Am I to have nothing to myself? The man hovers and stares and frowns at me like an angry governess. What does he expect from me? What does he want but to intimidate me?
“Scoundrel! I––Oh!” Isla reeled back, stumbling into a chair when she found she was not alone. She swallowed her pride hastily as she tried to smile at the butler who entered through the cracked doorway. “Hobbes. Erm, good evening.”
“I believe it is morning now,” he notified her apologetically. “And my sincerest apologies for causing you alarm. I mean no harm. May I join you?”
Feeling the heated warmth of her cheeks, Isla admitted, “I’m not certain I am fit for company at this time.”
“Ah. Something troubles you?”
She snorted without bothering to halt the unladylike reaction. “Do you mean you did not just hear me ranting and raving? Why else are you here at such an hour?”
“A midnight snack myself.” He gestured toward the covered bread. “Do you mind?”
“Please help yourself.” Isla gathered in a deep breath while tightening the robe around her waist. It was still rather chilly at night, and she was glad of these warm garments. “What will you tell him?”
The older man offered a kindly smile. He was a dear sort of fellow with a sense of humor that reminded her much of her father during his better years. “What shall I tell whom? And would you care for a piece?”
Accepting a slide of bread, she thanked him with a nod. “What I was saying about the duke.”
“Oh, were you talking about him?”
