Page 26 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)

CHAPTER 25

T he sun crept in through the windows late in the morning. While the countryside was doused with a grand thunderstorm, the morning after was something of a heaven like beauty. The colors of the earth glistened in the sunlight after soaking up all the rain. Grass shimmered a deeply pungent green, while the trees were sturdier than ever before, housing all sorts of creatures that were ready to see what the rain managed to pull out of the soil. Fresh buds of wildflowers began to grow, their roots already stretching into the land below.

And the sky was immaculately clear, the brightest blue Cordelia had ever seen. The first thought she had when her eyes lazily opened was to retrieve her canvas. Everything was far too beautiful for her to ignore it, demanding to be memorialized with her paint. But then, the moment she was about to jerk out of her bed, Cordelia remembered the events that transpired late in the previous evening.

Beside her, partly sitting on a plush chair and leaning heavily on the bed, was Michael. He slept soundly, his breathing deep and heavy. Dark brown hair fell across his neck and face, slightly curled from the rain he was forced to endure. From where she sat, the scars he bared crept up from beneath his collar, striking his tanned skin and shimmering in the light. Cordelia reached, twisting her fingers within his hair and moving them from his eyes. Perhaps the world outside of Solshire was presenting itself in a beauty demanded to be painted, but Cordelia could only see Michael, and all of his glory.

Her fingers lingered on his neck, delicately tracing the scars, when he began to stir. Cordelia jerked her hand away, almost embarrassed. The last time she had seen him in such a vulnerable state was when she entered the bathroom after he had just finished, his scar filled back entirely exposed to her. Now, there was a difference in his vulnerability, one that was not out of accident or mere folly. What happened next was entirely real, and Cordelia found herself unable to believe it right away.

Michael lifted his head, his eyes furrowed as he tried to wake himself up. When he looked upon her, his dark eyes crinkled as a smile tugged at his lips.

A smile, Cordelia thought to herself. When was the last time she had truly seen him smile?

“Good morning,” he said, his voice cracked and hoarse from sleep. “Are you well?”

Cordelia looked down at her leg. “I believe I am,” she replied. “Though I might be bedridden longer than I’d like.”

“Healing is important.”

“Bed rest for at least a week is more like torture than the words of a healer,” Cordelia teased, unable to tread to the more important things that lurked in her mind. Their early morning interaction felt like a fever dream, one she came up with all on her own.

Michael returned with a teasing smirk. “Perhaps we should make that a fortnight, then.”

Cordelia laughed, hardly able to keep it in any longer.

She glanced back at him, holding his intense stare. The longer they remained in silence, the more she remembered their talk the night before. Everything came rushing back to her, a heat rising to her face. Perhaps she had imagined it all, and he returned to only see if she needed any assistance. Maybe her dreams were plagued with the idea of him devoting himself to her, admitting his love as she said it back. It couldn’t have all been true, could it? It was far too fantastical, far too good to be really true.

“Michael,” she finally said. “Was it all real?”

His brow furrowed. “Was what real?”

“Everything,” she whispered. “Everything that was said.”

Michael’s face softened. He reached, tucking one of her curls behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on the curve of her cheek. The touch was simple but heavy, pulling a feeling of pleasure out from her stomach.

“It was real.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “If not, it would’ve been the grandest dream I ever had.”

“I am glad it was not a dream,” he said. “Are you?”

Cordelia returned his smile. “I am more than glad, Michael.”

Michael watched her closely, the corner of his lip turned upwards. “I got your painting, you know.”

“What?”

“The portrait,” he explained. “Mrs. Bellflower gave it to me before I left.”

Cordelia’s jaw slacked for a second before she snapped her mouth shut. She hadn’t even stopped to consider what the housekeeper decided to do with the piece of art. Though she remembered telling her to burn the thing, she was very glad the housekeeper decided against it. But, now as she avoided Michael’s watchful gaze, she wished to hide beneath the covers in embarrassment. The painting would have remained in the dark of her closest, if she had a say in it. She looked down at her hands, pulling up her blankets.

“Are you ashamed?” Michael asked.

“Well, I -” she stopped herself, her shoulders falling. “Yes.”

“What on earth for?”

Cordelia frowned. “Well, i-it was poorly done, you see, and I’d much rather -”

Sweeping forward suddenly, Michael caught her lips on his own, the kiss gentle but full of an unmistakable emotion. Warmth swelled within Cordelia’s chest. When he pulled away, his face looked as flushed as hers felt, the smile already growing along his lips.

“I plan on putting each and every one of your paintings up within Solshire.” He tilted his head, his smile growing into something mischievous. “Every last one.”

“All of them?”

Michael grinned. “All of them.”

After being an aspiring artist for so long, Cordelia never believed her work to be stellar enough to be put along a wall. There were a few in the orangery, but she always doubted there’d be other eyes looking at them. To put them within Solshire felt like an honor she never knew she was destined to be granted. Perhaps she was a true artist after all.

Cordelia was moments away from kissing him again, hardly able to come up with any words that were grand enough to express her gratitude, when a knock came from the door.

Michael rose and straightened his clothes.

The door crept open and Mrs. Bellflower stuck her head inside, her eyes almost popping out of her head at the sight of Michael.

“Y-Your Grace!” she exclaimed. “I had no idea you returned!” She glanced down at Cordelia, her lip twitching into a smile. “And all the color has come back to your face, your Grace! What splendid news!” She pressed into the room, leaving the door ajar. “If you are able to take visitors, your Grace, your siblings have arrived to see how you are faring.”

Cordelia glanced at Michael, who merely looked at her for an answer. “You may let them in, Mrs. Bellflower. Thank you.”

Michael quickly leaned over the bed, trying to get a few words out before the pair of siblings arrived within the chambers. “There is something I should -”

But then the Celeston siblings shot into the room, Irene quickly diving to Cordelia’s side. The moment Duncan trickled in after her, his eyes snapped towards Michael, his posture changing into something aggressive and forward.

“You,” Duncan spat, ready to point an accusatory finger at her husband. The anger stormed to his face almost instantly, as if the rage had been brewing there all along, just waiting for the moment it could be expelled.

Michael raised his hands. “I do not wish to duel you.”

Cordelia almost snapped up out of the bed, ignoring the bandages over her leg. “ Duel? ” She glared towards Duncan. “Did I not tell you, brother, to be rid of that foolish idea?”

“You fell into the lake, Cordelia!”

“Which was no one’s fault!”

Michael stepped closer to Duncan, bowing his head down respectfully. “The blame, despite what my gracious wife insists, rests on my shoulders,” he began. “I will take it and remember it for as long as I live.” Straightening himself, he faced Duncan with a serious and affirming stare. “The rest of my life will be spent making up for it. I have no plans of leaving Solshire again, and I hope that one day you might be able to place your trust with me, though I know that is something to be earned.”

Duncan, who was normally not one to be easily surprised, gaped at Michael. His eyes flickered towards Cordelia and Irene, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. As the silence began to settle into something awkward, Duncan cleared his throat, and stuck his hand out towards Michael.

“That was… Quite a fine start,” Duncan said with a nod.

Michael shook his hand, the both of them sharing incredibly stoic looks.

“Well,” Irene drawled, her attention turning back towards Cordelia, “Now that the gentlemen are finished playing -” she paused to hold the side of her sister’s face, “ - How are you?”

Cordelia breathed in deeply as she overlooked the people around her. All her life, she was burdened with the idea of who she wasn’t, and how it was the person everyone else expected. Instead of being wed when she was meant to be, Cordelia avoided it like a disease, intent on keeping her freedom or succumbing to a genuine love. In the end, she did what it was that her father demanded, and somehow managed to be beside Michael, a once beastly man who finally showed his true colors.

She thought about how, once, she was painting a flock of geese on the front lawn of her home, intent on one day becoming free like them. It turned out that freedom showed itself in many different ways, and the one in which she found herself in was exactly what she had been seeking out all along. Cordelia reached for her sister’s hand, and gave it a tight squeeze, her next words more genuine than they had ever been before.

“I am beyond well, Irene,” she said.

Her sister’s brow shot up. “Is that so?” She touched her aching leg. “Even with a fracture?”

“Even with a fracture.”

“You might not paint for a few more days.”

“Then so be it,” Cordelia replied. She reached out towards Michael, eagerly taking his hand within her own and pressing a short kiss to his palm. “I have all that I need, right here.”

Irene glanced between them, her smile growing more and more. “How wonderful,” she murmured. With a deep sigh, she picked herself off the bed, and crossed the room, her arm tucked alongside Duncan’s. “Come along, brother,” she said.

He frowned. “But -”

“Didn’t you hear our little sister?” Irene smiled, her eyes glossy with emotion. “I believe she is quite well.”

The Celeston siblings quickly said their goodbyes before leaving Cordelia’s chambers, shutting the door gently behind them. There was a sound in the distance, one that was familiar but muffled by the shut windows.

“Michael,” Cordelia said. “Can you help me to the window?”

He frowned. “What for?”

“Can you hear them?”

“Hear what?”

Cordelia laughed. “Just help me up!”

Michael rounded the bed, tucking an arm around her waist before hoisting her out from beneath the sheets. Carefully, he allowed her to lean her weight against him, her fractured leg hovering in the air. They stumbled towards the window, and Michael pulled up a chair before resting her back on it. He pushed the window open as much as he could, keeping one steady and cautious hand on the back of her chair.

Cordelia leaned forward, breathing in the summer breeze. It smelt like rain, still, and freshly ground up earth. Below, she could see the orangery, the sun hitting the glass ceiling brightly. The gardens were being tended to, the flowers looking better than they ever had since the storm. A few members of staff walked outside, using shears to work on the wide hedge maze. But it wasn’t any of that that caught her attention. No, there was a sound in the distance, quickly coming over the roof of Solshire and flying off to a place she could not see or even imagine.

A flock of geese went by overhead, their honks filling the morning air. Cordelia’s face lit up with a beaming smile, unable to look away from their beauty. Beside her, Michael watched the same flock, the corner of his lip tugging upwards.

Cordelia, suddenly, felt incredibly content with herself, unable to spot the smile from stretching so far that it ached.

Everything was just as it was supposed to be.