Page 39 of In Need of a Duke
She was… beautiful. And wholly untouchable.
And there was nothing he wanted more in life at that moment.
“Very well,” he repeated, clearing his throat. He grabbed his boots and quickly put them on. “Good night, then.”
He walked for the door, his hand gripping the doorknob when she called out. Ian froze, looking over his shoulder.
“They’re lovely flowers. Thank you.”
He nodded, not wishing to see if her eyes held a reminder of the last time he had given her those same flowers because he was a coward. Years ago, those flowers had held a promise.
These?
Well, Ian guessed they held a promise as well.
He would win back Charlotte not to secure an heir, but because he was no longer interested in living his life without her in it. He would win back her love and prove he wanted her for his own.
CHAPTER 10
Charlotte bracedher arms around her middle as she coughed. Weeks after the accident, she was steadily improving, but broken ribs and pneumonia were nothing she wished upon her worst enemies.
Including Ian.
Like the way the earth was warming as spring approached, she felt as though there was a small part of her opening to her husband. He saw she was cared for, asked after her, gave her space, all without leaving.
The sun was taking its time to set. She enjoyed the way the light lingered among the clouds, whispering promises of summer and late evenings and giving hope after the dark winter.
She smiled as she slowly shuffled through the foyer and found a giant vase stuffed with sunny daffodils. The very first ones that broke through the cold earth to harken the rest of March along. It had been years since she had planted those bulbs. Hundreds of them. Determined to bring light to the grand house that, at the time, felt like a punishment.
Like she was sentenced to live out the remainder of her years alone, deep in the English countryside.
She lightly touched a petal as she passed by, wincing at the uncomfortable tug at her shoulder freshly out of its sling.
If Kate were here, she would lecture Charlotte about giving herself grace, a concept much easier to grant others than to follow herself.
Instead, she pushed herself forward, seeking out a book in the library. At first, she thought she was alone until the room suddenly shrunk as her eyes fell upon the duke in the corner of the library, wearing reading glasses, and clutching a book.
“It’s too drafty for you in here.”
That may have been true, but his words were also cold.
She was halfway across the room before she could think better of it.
Something about him now, in the candlelight, with a shirt that was much too big for him and no cravat. Her gaze lingered at the small triangle exposed at the base of his throat.
Perhaps it was the beard shadowing his jaw or the way he nearly glared at her from over the rim of his glasses, but she thought, for a moment, he was extraordinarily handsome.
Which was unfortunate as she was also quite certain she despised him.
“I have a shawl. I will be fine.”
He raised his brows, then returned to his book, even as she stood before him.
“You weren’t at dinner this evening.”
“I had a headache.” Charlotte clasped her hands in front of her and puzzled over her husband. There was something different about him. Maybe it was the telling crease between his brows or the dark circle beneath his eyes, but all his hard edges had softened.
“You shouldn’t be up then,” he said, speaking to his book.
