Chapter 21
There was something about his wife.
Ronan couldn’t place it, only that he needed to sort out what this something was. The need to protect her, to see her, to know her, was beginning to consume him. He laid awake too long most nights. Even shut away in his study, he could not stop thinking of her.
He passed through the halls and swore he could smell the scent of Isla no matter where she might be.
What is it about her that I cannot ignore? Our courtship was sufficient. It should have been. It was supposed to be. Now we have our duties––separate duties, mind you.
“Your Grace?”
“What?” Ronan snapped as he turned to Hobbes.
The older gentleman looked at him over his spectacles with an arched brow. “Is my work unsatisfactory?”
He huffed. “No. Why?”
“Then there is no need to take that tone with me,” the butler said mildly before sniffing. “As I was saying, the carriages have been inspected, the stables are clean, and a delivery of fresh hay should arrive before the end of today as scheduled.”
Shoving aside his files, Ronan forced a nod. “Very good then. Is that all?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Your mood, I would suppose.” Hobbes gave him thoughtful sort of look. “I would think a newlywed such as yourself should be enjoying what they now call the honeymoon phase. Perhaps you and your bride need some time alone. Together,” he added pointedly.
The thought made Ronan’s heart beat stop. He couldn’t breathe. Together? Oh, he could imagine that. Just him and Isla, no one between them and nothing… Heat swarmed his chest so fast it made him dizzy.
Exhaling, he closed his eyes.
No. I do not want her in that way. I won’t. That is no longer… It is not part of the plan, and I am past those days. Besides, we already agreed this is merely a marriage of convenience.
Whatever his desires might be, they would go away. In time. Eventually.
“No,” Ronan forced the word out so they might both believe it. “That is not necessary. I prefer that we both settle into our life as it is meant to be. I have a duchess, and I have… my duties.”
“Even if it makes you unbearable?”
He opened his eyes to glare at the old man. “Is it your wish to retire so quickly?”
“I don’t mind either way. The question is, do you mind?”
The gall of the old fellow was ridiculous. And yet Ronan knew the right of it. They both did. How could he manage without Hobbes? They knew each other too well, and he permitted the butler to get the best of him.
Rubbing his eyes, Ronan stood. He couldn’t bear to sit at his desk any longer than he could endure Hobbes’ jibes.
“Very well. Do as you will, old man, but leave me out of it, eh? I’m going for a ride.
I promised I would check in on the vicar after the last rainfall. The fresh air should do me some good.”
“Very wise, Your Grace. Perhaps,” Hobbes said brightly as he trailed behind, probably very well knowing how it peeved him, “You can escort the duchess back after her own journey.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s in the village, of course. Visits every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, you see,” the butler explained in a dreadfully cheerful tone. “She’s already well-loved about the area and is always making friends with passersby.”
Of course she is. Who wouldn’t wish to befriend a duchess? And why wouldn’t Isla be seeking friends where she could? It isn’t as though I have a problem about that. I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.
And yet… An hour later, he was sitting in the saddle on the edge of the lane as he watched his very own duchess laughing and smiling at a stranger. A handsome young stranger who had a carriage waiting for him, like he didn’t belong here. Like he was delayed simply for Isla.
Ronan growled at the sight. His horse shifted uneasily beneath him and only stilled once he gave a direct tug on the reins to calm the beast. This did little to soothe his own ire, however.
What was it about Isla that always had the young bucks and dandies looking her way? Yes, her auburn hair was bright and curled and very prettily framing her face like a Greek goddess. Her eyes certainly shined even on cloudy days. And her laugh was absurdly welcoming to all.
But it doesn’t mean give any man the right to look at her that way. Like he adores. Like he has any right to her. Blast it, man, stop smiling.
Ronan knew he should move on. It wasn’t as though he cared. Isla could do as she liked. She was clearly enjoying herself. Except he was frozen in his spot, hands gripping the reins, willing her to… to look anywhere else.
Then her eyes found him.
“Blast,” he murmured, his breath catching.
While the stranger continued speaking, waving a hand, Isla’s smile faded. She looked at Ronan thoughtfully until the stranger put a hand over hers. Ronan jerked but couldn’t move before Isla was shifting back. She shook her head, then gave the gentleman a nod, and gestured to his carriage.
After an overly courteous bow, the stranger was on his way.
It doesn’t matter what you do. I don’t care. Keep talking to him. Don’t keep talking to him. I won’t control you. I told you I wouldn’t control you, only that you are mine, and…
Isla turned around. She turned her back on him and went inside the shop––a bookshop from the looks of it––without speaking to him.
Although Ronan waited a spell, he grew impatient. Frustrated with himself and her over what had happened, or perhaps what hadn’t happened, he nudged his horse along. They journeyed to the vicar where Ronan promised to help with a new roof.
He trotted his horse back through town afterward. But he couldn’t find Isla anywhere, and told him it was for the best. Soon, he made it back to the house and started the plans he promised for their vicar.
“Pleasant journey?” Hobbes asked when he brought forth a tray.
“Hardly. It was merely business.”
Hobbes nodded slowly. “Very well. What a shame.”
Pausing with his pen in the inkwell, Ronan glanced up. “A shame?” he echoed in confusion.
“The duchess and Ollie enjoyed an afternoon picnic out on the grounds,” Hobbes explained with a light smile. “It was a very enjoyable sort of gathering. You might have enjoyed yourself if you were here to attend.”
It wasn’t as though I received any sort of invitation. Once again, they are having their joy alone. Without me. They’re doing it without me. It isn’t… Well, that was the plan. Wasn’t it?
Perhaps it was, Ronan supposed, but he hadn’t realized he would feel a twist in his empty stomach. He hadn’t thought it would matter. It shouldn’t, should it? The entire plan hinged on someone being there for Oliver. While Ronan provided the roof… Well, that was all he provided, wasn’t it?
“Where is she?” Ronan asked before he could help himself.
“Preparing for supper. She eats early so that Ollie can dine with her,” Hobbes explained before asking hopefully, “Shall we set another place for you?”
He leaned back in discomfort. “No. No, that won’t be necessary. I… I will speak with her after. Perhaps. If I find the time.”
The casual tone clearly wasn’t believable to Hobbes. “Certainly, Your Grace. She enjoys spending her evenings in the library,” he added before walking away.
While Ronan pretended to ignore him, the thought lingered in his mind.
He tried to push it back repeatedly while he enjoyed his chai and then later his supper tray.
Eventually, there was nothing more he could do in terms of his business unless he wished to recalculate numbers he’d already finalized a half dozen times over.
So he climbed to his feet. Took a deep breath. And started toward the library.
Tucked away in the corner by the small fireplace, Isla was curled up in front of a tall chair with cushions propping her up. She looked undeniably comfortable. Her hair was loose, and she wore a pretty shawl wrapped around her shoulders to stay warm.
He noted her bare feet with surprise just as she looked up and gasped.
“Goodness, Ronan. Where did you come from?” She asked accusingly. Though she wrapped her shawl tighter around her, it did nothing to hide her simple day dress revealing much of her collarbone. He noted two freckles he hadn’t seen before.
Then he frowned at the tone. “This is my house.”
“Our house,” she corrected him.
Huffing, he forced a nod. “Our house. I can go where I like, can I not?”
Isla shifted off a cushion awkwardly to crane her neck up for a better look at him. Scooting her feet beneath her, much to his disappointment, she said, “You never come here.”
“Perhaps I do. Simply when you are not here,” he added. He didn’t know what he was saying. Or doing. Were they arguing? That hadn’t been his plan.
“Perhaps you do,” Isla allowed. “But why now?”
Feeling like he was being interrogated, he frowned and deliberately took a seat on the loveseat nearby. “I wished to enjoy a quiet evening in the library. Is that so wrong?”
“Certainly not,” Isla said warily. “If that is all you seek?”
“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 was all 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.