Page 47 of In Need of a Duke
If he believed that, then he was truly daft.
She shrugged, staring down at him from the saddle. “I was, but rebuilding a wall won’t change what is no longer true.”
“Then maybe we should change that.”
“You’ve already broken my heart. I don’t wish for it to be shattered entirely. Be kind, Ian.”
“I don’t want you riding by yourself.”
“I suggest you start learning I have no interest in your opinions. I am a person, not something to own.”
He spun around and kicked the pile of rocks. “Christ, Lottie. I’m trying.”
She gripped the reins, then tugged for the horse so they could return to Stonehurst. “It’s not enough, Ian. Not nearly enough.”
As soon as her back was toward him and she was riding away,Charlotte reached up and traced her fingers over her swollen lips scorched by her husband.
He needed to try harder to see her, certainly. But if she were being honest, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to withstand the storm of him if he continued to touch her.
She hated him, yes. But after that kiss?
A little less.
CHAPTER 13
Ian remained still,pretending to be interested in the newspaper in his hands as he heard her footfalls in the hallway.
It wasn’t like her to sleep so late.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, stepping foot into the breakfast room. “I thought you would have left by now.”
Did she often make it a habit of avoiding him?
“I was waiting for you.”
At this, Charlotte’s eyes widened before she nodded and let out a soft exhale. He had noticed she had a habit of censoring herself in his presence, never entirely sharing everything she wished to say. She had always been too polite, and he craved any sort of reaction out of her.
Anything besides sad indifference.
Since slowly recovering from her fall, Charlotte had somehow slipped further from him. Keeping herself locked away, her reactions and comments always prosaic and short.
Ian folded the newsprint, leaning forward in his seat. “Are you riding this morning?”
He didn’t comment on her wearing breeches, but it didn’t matter. His body certainly remembered.
She arched a brow and crumpled her nose, as if understanding what he truly meant. “No, I need to tend to the bees in the apiary.”
“I remember those structures you showed me, so I assumed there might have been a hive or two but an apiary?”
“I have overseen a thriving bee colony here on the estate.” She spun, clutching the delicate teacup in her hands. “I am the Honey Duchess after all. Excuse me, no time for breakfast.”
“The gardeners surely…” He quickly threw down the newsprint and sprinted to catch up to her as she strode down the hall. Her honey hair swung against her back in a long plait as her hips swayed from side to side.
“I was instructed to leave the front of the estate untouched. I have found comfort in spending my time in the country, outside, usually in the garden or my conservatory. And yes, with my bees.”
“Your bees?”
She halted abruptly, and he would have done the same if he hadn’t been so transfixed by the confident way her body moved.
