Chapter 16
Sixteen
“Ronan, wait!” Thalia called after Ronan as he stormed across the foyer. “We should talk about this!”
Ronan was halfway across the foyer when he stopped. His hackles were raised. His breathing was heavy. And she could see him shaking as he kept his fists clenched by his side.
Thalia eyed him, careful not to get too close. It wasn’t that she was scared of him or what he would do. She simply did not know him well enough to know what to say. Did he need her to forgive him? Did he want such a thing? Or was he better off left alone to simmer?
“There is nothing to talk about,” he growled, still not facing her.
“I think there is…” She took a hesitant step closer. “You did just punch a man in the face.”
She saw him flinch. “Are you saying he did not deserve it?”
“Oh no, not at all. From where I was standing, he very much did.”
“He…” Breathing still heavy, she could see him starting to calm down. “He should not have spoken that way about you. About Olivia. No one should speak that way…”
Despite her best efforts, Thalia could not help but smile.
Oh sure, she had suspected the reason why he punched Lord Westmere in the face, but to hear Ronan say it made her chest feel tight and her chin tremble because she very nearly burst into tears.
Ronan liked to pretend he bore few emotions. He liked to portray himself as the strong, uncaring type. But deep down, he was kind and gentle in his own way, a big heart that he had nobody to share it with.
“I know he should not have…” She came closer to him, right behind where he was standing. And then, ever so carefully, she reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. He did not flinch but relaxed under her touch. “And that you thought to defend me… to defend Olivia. You did not have to do that—”
“I did,” he growled.
“You did not let me finish,” she said, not allowing him to speak over her.
“I was saying, you did not have to do it, but I am glad that you did. No one, ever, has defended me like that. They have had no reason,” she said bitterly.
“But knowing that you will, that you can…” She squeezed his shoulder. “I cannot tell you how much it means.”
Slowly, so very carefully, Ronan reached over and put his hand over the one she had on his shoulder. She could feel him trembling, but his breathing was returning to normal and his anger was simmering.
“No one is allowed to speak to you like that, Thalia. Not while you bear my name. Not while you live under my roof. I promised to protect you, and I mean to. Always.”
“I know that,” she assured him. “And quite frankly, I think a broken nose was the best Lord Westmere could have hoped for.”
He laughed at that, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“So… you are not upset?” he asked. “That I embarrassed you?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Surprised, perhaps. And you saved me from punching him myself…” She laughed and squeezed his shoulder again. “But not upset. Grateful is a better word.”
He still had his hand on hers, and he took hold of it as he turned to face her. The rage he had harbored on the ride back from the estate was gone now, taken by what almost looked like sadness behind his green eyes.
He kept a hold of her hand as he looked down at her. He squeezed it, looking not just at her but through her. She could feel those eyes, his thoughts, all that which had not been said between them shown in their reflection.
And in that moment, the two of them standing in silence and looking at one another, she knew the duke better than she ever had.
It is not just Olivia he cares for, but me also. And by the looks of things, he might just be ready to admit it…
Thalia had not known how she felt about the duke. Not really. Until now, he had been so cold and withdrawn, so careful not to give her anything. But after today and all that happened, thinking of the way he treated Olivia, and how he protected them both, she realized it was time to stop pretending.
She was starting to develop feelings for Ronan. True feelings. Strange, perhaps, but right. And when she held his eyes, she wanted him to see it.
Their stare held as the silence grew.
Still holding her hands, he licked his lips as he bore down upon her. A small step and he moved closer, breathing turn soft, realization filtering behind his eyes so she did not have to guess what was on his mind.
And Thalia wanted it. Her eyes flicked to his lips, letting him know that he had permission.
She then parted her lips slightly, heart thundering, knees trembling, stomach flipping with eagerness and trepidation both.
They had not kissed once as man and wife, as the moment had never come.
But it was here now, their feelings obvious, the perfect time to make them known.
Ronan seemed to lean forward slightly. His lips trembled as he puckered them. The want in his eyes, a hand reaching for her…
He pulled back suddenly, took a further step backwards, and half-turned away from her. “I should go.”
“Wh—what?” she stammered.
“Good night, Your Grace. I…” He hesitated, refusing to look at her. “Thank you for today.” And then, without so much as looking back at her, Ronan strode across the foyer and out of sight.
Thalia was left standing there alone, one hand still reaching for the duke, her lips still puckered slightly, her body still awash with the temptation of a kiss that looked like it would never be. And most of all, a mind overcome by confusion.
That, however, was common for this marriage by this point. So perhaps she was not so confused as she could have been. Not that this made her feel any better.