Page 65 of The Duke and the Accidental Bride

She laughed. “I think it is a little late. But tomorrow, if you are looking for me, you know where to find me.”

He laughed also. “Or if I need to avoid you.”

“Exactly.”

Another silence fell. This one far more tense and unsure.

It reminded Duncan of why he had been so generous with his gifts in that first week, specifically to create atmospheres such as this. Both of their moods were high right now which was the exact opposite of how things usually went between them. Which in itself was a problem.

It was late in the evening. Time to retire to bed. A perfect opportunity for Duncan to say something derisive, for Isabella to defend herself, for them to fall back into their usual patterns of which they had both become so accustomed. Only now, after what had just happened, that didn’t feel quite right to do.

She looks so happy. The last thing I want to do is insult or anger her. A rather annoying turn of events, truth be told.

It was a reminder of why they treated one another the way that they did, and the pitfalls of trying to change things.

“I think I need a drink,” Isabella said suddenly, as if she could read the mind. “Would you... like to join me in one?”

Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. “That sounds lovely. And yes, I will.”

She nodded and smiled slightly, head down as she walked past him. And Duncan followed, sensing a clear shift in their relationship but unable to decide if it was for the best or if he’d just ruined the only good thing that had come from this marriage.

Time would tell, he supposed. Likely he would know within the hour.

“So, um... your grandmother is lovely,” Isabella said awkwardly. Then she took a long sip of her drink.

“She can be,” Duncan agreed. He smiled and nodded, and Isabella returned it. Then, sensing the silence about to descend on them, he quickly added. “And she liked you too, I think.”

“That is good.”

“Yes, it is.” Duncan took a sip of his drink also, a little longer than what was needed, but like Isabella he was clearly doing so to fill the silence rather than being forced to sit through it.

“I... I was worried she might not like me,” Isabella attempted lamely.

“Oh?”

“The circumstances surrounding our marriage – how rushed it all was. I thought she might have suspected something...” A light chuckle and she took another sip.

“I think she was just glad to see me wed,” Duncan laughed, albeit without any humor. “I know she wished to see it before she passed.”

“As she should,” Isabella agreed, only because she felt the need to say something.

“I know she wants grandchildren too,” Duncan joked. His eyes then turned wide, and he looked away, coughing to clear his throat. “Not that we are – I do not expect – forget I said that...” Another awkward bout of laughter, swallowed by the silence that surrounded the not-so-happy couple.

They sat together in Duncan’s drawing room. On the same couch. By the fireplace. Sharing a bottle of whiskey that was quickly vanishing; Isabella was drinking quite a bit, simply because she felt the need to do something with her mouth.

She had suggested that they share a drink because it had felt like the right thing to say. The mood that had existed in the library had not been one that might give way to sexual congress, so she figured a drink or two would ease tensions and re-set what had turned into a rather strange night. Strange for all the wrong reasons.

Duncan’s surprise had shocked Isabella beyond her reasoning. It was not only kind but overly thoughtful and generous. A gift that she was beyond grateful for, and for which she would have liked to have proven this gratitude in ways that she was certain her husband would appreciate. Unfortunately, she wasn’t entirely sure how to go about that.

Whenever she and Duncan had sex, it was always brought about through fire and brimstone and argument and anger. But after his most thoughtful gift, she did not feel right about upsetting him. What was more, she did not want to.

What she wanted was what she had decided during their dinner with his grandmother. To learn more about her husband so that she might see if there was a chance that the two could be more than what they were – if there was a future of any kind here.

Duncan’s grand gesture seemed to suggest he was of the same mind. Only now, sitting in this most tense silence, struggling to have even the most basic of conversations, and Isabella was beginning to wonder if she had vastly overestimated their compatibility.

Have we reached the peak of our relationship? One of sexual aggression and exploration but not much else? And do I even want that?

“Might I ask you something?” Isabella began, deciding that she had but one chance to coax a real conversation from her husband. If this did not work, then she knew there was no hope for them.

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