Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Charlotte had been feverish since that evening in the glasshouse with Ian. Since she had agreed to give him the summer, it was as if he was sticking his boot into her heart, prying it open little by little, and she felt as if she no longer had the strength to push back.

Or perhaps it was more she didn’t wish to.

Charlotte dressed as she always did to ride when there were no guests at the house—in breeches—and headed for the stable.

“Your Grace,” the stable hand greeted, jumping to his feet. “Are you sure you want to ride today?”

She glanced up at the clear April sky, grinning up at the sun. There was nothing she wished for more.

“I believe I do.”

She swallowed her nerves as the stable hand readied her horse. She missed Daisy. They had ridden together for a long time.

“Who do we have here?” she asked, holding out her hand toward the lovely black mare.

“Artemis, Your Grace.”

The horse sniffed her hand, and she slowly approached, reaching out to pet its muzzle .

“She’s a gentle one. Shouldn’t…”

“I understand,” Charlotte said, glancing over at the stable hand. “I will be extremely cautious today, no jumping.”

Even after she mounted the horse, it felt as if she would be sick. But she couldn’t remain trapped inside, roaming the halls of Stonehurst any longer. She needed to ride, to feel as if she were not stuck or locked away. It had felt so for years, but after the accident, it was nearly unbearable. And she was beginning to realize it wasn’t entirely Ian’s fault. Remaining here was safe, like clinging to the ballroom walls in London. If she hid away, then no one would pay much attention. She was tired of explaining her place in the world to the rest of the ton .

As promised, Charlotte rode with care. But that didn’t stop her from revisiting the spot where her accident happened.

But as she approached, she was shocked to discover she was not alone.

The wall that she had failed to jump over was nearly leveled. The duke was taking it apart stone by stone and stacking them off to the side.

His head snapped up as she approached, his dark eyes nearly burning her.

“What are you doing?” he snapped. “Have you gone mad?”

He threw off his work gloves and stormed forward. He was so achingly beautiful that for a moment, Charlotte forgot she should be furious.

“And breeches ?”

“No one else is here,” she shot back. With a slow inhale, she dismounted and met him halfway. “What have you done?”

His brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t be riding. Who allowed you…”

“I am the damn duchess, Ian. I will ride if I wish.”

He scoffed, throwing his hands to his hips and looking back at the wall.

“Is this where you have been hiding? You’re rebuilding the wall?”

“You nearly died the last time you rode. ”

“Because you chased me down.” Charlotte squared her shoulders. “And that’s reason enough not to ride ever again? Why are you rebuilding the wall?”

“I rode back with you in my arms, nearly dead. I don’t want you on another horse again.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you care? You hate me.”

He exhaled, stepping even closer until they were nearly chest to chest. The tension buzzed between them. “Hate you?”

“Yes, you hate me. Why else would you have left me?”

His eyes flared open.

“Why are you here rebuilding the wall?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re impossible,” she shouted, stepping around him to examine the missing wall. Except he reached over and gently gripped her arm to spin her around.

“I don’t want you here. You should be home.”

“Which is it? You asked me to give you through the summer, then I happen upon you, and you tell me to leave? You can’t lock me away?—”

“Good, you’re angry. You should be angry…”

She wrenched her hand free and glared at him. “I am furious, but I’ve never been allowed to be angry.”

He gestured for her to continue.

She balled her fists and attempted to ignore the way his shirt hung loosely on his body, but his sleeves were rolled up to expose strong forearms. Or the way his skin was glistening with sweat, and his dark hair fell across his face giving him a rather rakish appearance.

The cold duke she so often pictured over the years didn’t stand before her now, his face etched in pain. He was as familiar as untouchable.

“Why are you rebuilding the wall? Ian, I need one truth. Please. You can shut everyone else out, but if you wish for me to give you a chance, you need to let me in. I need?—”

He stepped forward, a growl in his throat as if her plea had hurt him .

Charlotte scoffed, tears nearly springing up in her eyes. “You have a heart, I know it. I knew it back when?—”

Ian grabbed her shirt and yanked her in against him, then crashed his lips against hers in a searing kiss.

She struggled for a moment, swallowing her surprise as she slowly melted into his touch.

Years.

So many wasted years, and over what?

Pride?

She was certain she hated him, but the longer his mouth moved against hers, the more she forgot the many reasons why.

Oh, Ian .

She raked her hands through his hair and kissed him back. It wasn’t gentle, but crushing and urgent. She met his movements with the same desperation as if failed words left only kissing as a solution.

His rough hand slid along her jaw and tilted her face upward, searching, the warm sun dancing across her skin as his soft lips explored hers.

She was aware of the birds in the nearby trees, the soft hush of the river behind them, the breeze carrying the salty, earthy scent of him. She was aware of it all and yet, she was fully wrapped up in Ian.

Her husband.

His tongue pressed against the seam of her mouth, and she parted her lips on a sigh, allowing him in.

Her body was warm, and the soft earth of early spring in the English countryside gave beneath her feet. She clung to him, not wishing to let go.

Terrified of what would happen when she did.

But, alas, his lips slowed, and they broke apart.

Charlotte glanced up at him, still wrapped around him and completely stunned.

Ian closed his eyes and exhaled, releasing her and stepping back as if her touch burned him.

“Well,” she said, swallowing hard. “You can’t kiss me like that?— ”

“Like what?” He snapped, running his hand through his hair and throwing his head back toward the sky.

“Like what?”

The ground had moved under her feet only a moment ago. Or days ago. The kiss had changed the course of time forever. He had swept her up and kissed her until her knees were weak, and she had forgotten her name or why, precisely, they hated one another.

She suspected they truly didn’t.

And he was going to mess it up once more.

“That doesn’t change anything,” he insisted, dropping his hands to glare back at her. The dark, lifeless veil that separated him from the rest of the world, collapsed. She reached up and rubbed her hands over her arms, suddenly consumed by an unnerving chill.

“Can you not give me one answer?”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

She nodded, then spun for her horse. “I don’t need the summer to decide if we should seek a divorce. I know that is the only solution. If you cannot open yourself up to me, then I don’t want to be yours anymore.”

“You were never mine,” he said.

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.