My Bratty Wife Novel Chapter 11 - Eleven

Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven

Suzy cracked her eyes open, a dull throbbing in her head was the first thing to greet her. Disoriented, she blinked, trying to focus on her surroundings. The room was dimly lit, furnished with a simple wooden bed, a rickety chair, and a small table cluttered with vials and a half-empty mug.

This was... an inn. A run-down, barely functional inn, but an inn nonetheless.

Relief washed over her, montarily erasing the throbbing pain in her head. She was safe. Or at least, safer than she’d been in the clutches of the thief.

Tentatively, Suzy reached up and touched her neck. The area where the thief’s knife had pressed against her skin felt tender, but there was no obvious wound. Soone had taken care of her.

Panic clawed at her throat as she noticed sothing else. Her dress was gone. In its place, she wore a loose-fitting white shirt that hung loosely on her fra. n’s clothing.

Panic clawed at her throat. Had Davis...? No, the very thought of him taking advantage of her unconsciousness filled her with a cold dread.

"Awake already?" A deep familiar voice broke the silence, startling her from her spiraling thoughts.

Looking towards the source of the voice, Suzy saw a tall, broad-shouldered man standing in the doorway. His imposing figure filled the small room, and for a fleeting mont, Suzy felt a flicker of fear. He was shirtless, his skin rippling with muscles, and a dark scowl etched itself onto his handso face.

As he strode closer, his features ca into focus. Suzy’s jaw clenched. It was him - the sa man she’d t by the wall, the one with the pompous deanor and self-important smirk.

"Pompous sissy?" the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, a knee-jerk reaction to the sudden intrusion. The mory of their first, less than pleasant encounter at the wall flooded back.

The man’s scowl deepened as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Excuse ?" he growled, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

Suzy felt a wave of heat rise to her cheeks. Panic prickled at the edges of her mind. Here she was, injured, alone, and spouting nonsense at a complete stranger. Truly brilliant, she thought sarcastically.

As the man took a nacing step closer, Suzy scrambled to her feet, her legs wobbly but surprisingly steady. "I... I apologize," she stamred, her voice regaining so semblance of composure. "You... you startled ."

The man stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on her. Then, to her surprise, he raised an eyebrow, an expression crossing his face. It was the sa bewildered expression he’d worn the first ti they t, adding fuel to Suzy’s simring irritation.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice cold and clipped.

He walked closer to the bed, his movents purposeful. Before Suzy could react, he reached out and touched her forehead, his cool fingers brushing against her warm skin.

Suzy flinched, swatting his hand away with a gasp. "Don’t touch !" she exclaid, her voice laced with anger and a hint of fear. "I’m married to an idiot who didn’t show up for his wedding!"

A slow smile spread across the Duke’s face. "Indeed, you are, Duchess," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "And whose shirt do you think you’re wearing?"

Suzy’s gaze darted down to the loose-fitting white garnt covering her.

A wave of realization washed over her, tinged with a touch of mortification. Of course, the shirt wouldn’t have materialized out of thin air.

"It’s... it’s none of your concern," she stamred, her voice barely a whisper.

A slow smile spread across the man’s face, a smile that did little to reassure Suzy. "Oh, it most certainly is," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "After all, it’s mine."

Looking back at the man, Suzy’s eyes narrowed. "So, you’re the Grand Duke of Carleton?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don’t you have a na?"

"Ryan". He answered.

"Ryan?" Suzy blurted, the na tumbling out in disbelief. "That’s your na?"

Ryan’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold indifference. "It’s my na," he stated flatly.

Suzy narrowed her eyes. "Then perhaps you could explain," she demanded, her voice laced with a newfound defiance, "why the Grand Duke of Carleton is lounging shirtless in my room?"

Ryan’s gaze flickered to his bare chest for a fleeting mont before returning to et hers. "The innkeeper deed it necessary."

Suzy bristled. "Whose fault is it? The innkeeper had to change

after you... well, after you shot ."

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of sothing akin to annoyance crossing his face. "Shot you?" he echoed, his voice devoid of warmth. "Seems like your mory needs refreshing, Duchess. I was the one who took down the thief who was about to slit your throat."

Suzy’s cheeks flushed with anger. The audacity of this man! "And whose fault was it that I was even in that situation?" she retorted, her voice laced with a dangerous edge.

Ryan’s gaze turned steely. "Enough with the dramatics," he spat. "There are no fresh clothes to be had in this sorry excuse for an inn. Consider this shirt a loan."

He tossed a worn leather pouch onto the bed beside her. "The innkeeper cleaned your wound," he said curtly. "There’s so coin in that pouch to compensate her.

With that, Ryan turned on his heel to leave the room, leaving Suzy speechless. He hadn’t even bothered to ask how she was feeling, if she was in pain.

Fury bubbled up in Suzy’s chest, hot enough to lt the icy deanor of the man before her. "So, Ryan," She began, her voice laced with a bitterness she couldn’t quite control. "Since you’ve graced

with your presence, perhaps you could enlighten ? Why the charade of a wedding? Why marry soone you so obviously despise?"

Ryan leaned against the doorfra, arms crossed, his gaze distant. "Despise is a strong word, Duchess," he replied, his voice devoid of warmth. "But let’s just say your arrival wasn’t exactly... anticipated."

Suzy’s jaw clenched. "Oh, I understand perfectly," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "My family, in their infinite wisdom, decided to sell

off to secure so... political advantage."

Ryan’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. "Political advantage is a kind way of putting it. Let’s just say your family’s debts were... inconvenient."

He turned to leave but she repeated the question which made him halt.

"And what about you, Ryan?" she demanded, her voice shaking with barely contained anger. "Why did you agree to this marriage? Do you also have so family obligation you’re fulfilling?"

Ryan froze at the doorway, his back stiff. He didn’t turn around to face her, his silence a deafening answer in itself. Suzy’s voice trembled with barely contained anger.

"Do you even have a reason for this charade?" she pressed, her question echoing through the small room. "Or are you just as much a pawn in this ga as I am?"

Still no answer. Ryan remained a statue, his silence a wall she couldn’t seem to breach. Suzy clenched her fists, frustration burning in her eyes.

"Fine," she hissed, her voice laced with a dangerous calm. "Keep your secrets. But don’t think for a second that I’ll be a submissive wife. I was forced into this marriage, and I won’t make things easy for you."

A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. Finally, Ryan turned, his eyes cold and emotionless.

"The innkeeper will see to getting you so fresh clothes in the morning," he said curtly, his voice devoid of warmth. "We leave at dawn. No further delays. Get so rest."

Without another word, Ryan turned and paused for a mont, his hand hovering on the knob. "One more thing, Duchess," he said, his voice cold and laced with a warning. "There will be no more outbursts like tonight. You are in my domain now, and you will behave accordingly." Those were his last words before slamming the door shut behind him leaving Suzy fuming. He offered no explanation for his actions and no apology for his callous behavior. Suzy was left alone with her anger and her fear, married to a man who seed to despise her very existence.