My Bratty Wife
Chapter 42 - Forty Two

Chapter 42: Chapter Forty Two

A rooster’s crow pierced the pre-dawn darkness, dragging Suzy from the warm embrace of her slumber. She groaned, burying her head deeper into the soft pillows. "Ugh, it’s still practically the middle of the night!" she grumbled, burrowing deeper into the warmth.

But the relentless crowing wouldn’t relent, acting like a particularly annoying alarm clock with feathers. Suzy finally threw the covers back with a huff, her hair a wild mess that resembled a bird’s nest after a particularly aggressive squirrel attack.

Today was the day of their departure for the palace, and Ryan, with his usual lack of consideration for sleep-loving souls, had declared an early start. Suzy felt like a grumpy badger roused from its winter burrow.

"Traveling with Ryan is like an adventure," she muttered sarcastically as she shuffled towards the bathroom. "An adventure for masochists, that is."

The early morning bustle of the castle did little to improve her mood. Servants scurried around like ants on a sugar rush, polishing silver, dusting furniture, and packing enough luggage for a royal vacation (even though Ryan had insisted they were traveling light).

Suzy surveyed the scene with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Honestly," she muttered to herself, "you’d think the King himself was visiting, not just some grumpy Grand Duke and his reluctant Duchess."

Doris appeared at her side laden with a selection of gowns. "Good morning, Milady," she said cheerfully, despite the ungodly hour. "His Grace has instructed me to assist you with your travel attire."

Suzy grimaced. "Travel attire? At this hour? Couldn’t we leave when the sun actually rises?" she pleaded with a sigh. "My complexion won’t survive this lack of proper sleep."

Doris chuckled, unfazed by Suzy’s exaggerated dramatics. "I’m afraid not, Milady. The royal carriage will arrive shortly."

Suzy sighed dramatically once more, then surrendered to Doris’ ministrations. She allowed herself to be bathed, dressed in a practical yet elegant traveling gown, and even had her hair styled into a high ponytail (though a stray curl or two inevitably escaped).

Breakfast was a rushed affair, consisting of dry toast and a sliver of fruit that Suzy barely managed to choke down. Finally, with a flourish more befitting a queen than a Duchess, she swept out of the castle and towards the waiting carriage.

As she climbed aboard, she caught Ryan’s eye. He was already seated, his face a mask of stoicism, as always. Suzy, in a fit of playful defiance, gave him a mock curtsey. "Good morning, Your Grace," she declared, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

A flicker of seriousness crossed Ryan’s features. "Good morning, Duchess," he replied.

The carriage rattled rhythmically as it sped along the dusty road, carrying Ryan and Suzy towards the royal palace.

Inside, however, the atmosphere was anything but peaceful. Suzy, trapped in the confines of the carriage with Ryan, simmered with frustration.

"Remember, Duchess," Ryan’s voice, devoid of any warmth, cut through the silence. "The palace is a place of decorum and respect. Conduct yourself accordingly."

Suzy bristled. "Don’t worry," she retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I wouldn’t want to bring shame upon your esteemed reputation."

Ryan’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing more, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. Suzy, unable to contain her annoyance, let out a huff.

"Honestly," she thought to herself, "this man has the emotional range of a teaspoon. Did he forget about yesterday? About the way he looked at me, the vulnerability he showed?" A flicker of annoyance sparking within her. His behavior was maddening. One minute he was... revealing, vulnerable even, whispering things in his sleep. The next, he was back to his usual cold, stoic self, as if nothing had ever happened.

She let out a silent huff. Men! They were a confusing breed, especially brooding, powerful men like Ryan.

The silence in the carriage resumed, thick and heavy. Suzy stared out the window, watching the scenery blur past in a monotonous green and brown. Boredom gnawed at her, and the urge to needle Ryan began to simmer.

"So," she began, her voice dripping with forced sweetness, "what exciting events are planned for our visit to the palace? Will we be attending a grand ball? Or perhaps a thrilling jousting tournament?"

Ryan remained impassive. "There will be meetings with the King," he replied curtly. "And discussions regarding the investigation."

Suzy rolled her eyes. "Thrilling," she thought sarcastically. "Just what I always dreamed of – listening to a bunch of stuffy old men talk politics."

With a determined set to her jaw, she squared her shoulders and gazed out the window. The passing scenery – rolling hills dotted with quaint villages and verdant forests – did little to soothe her ruffled feathers. The image of Ryan, vulnerable and lost in his memories, kept flashing through her mind.

"Elean," she whispered the name to herself, the sound strange on her tongue. Who or what was that?

She stifled a yawn, her eyelids growing heavy once more. The rhythmic rocking of the carriage and the lack of interest of the passing landscape proved too much to resist. Leaning against the plush cushions, she allowed her thoughts to drift. Minutes bled into hours, the rhythmic sway of the carriage lulled Suzy into a restless sleep.

Her head began to bob gently, each dip threatening to topple her over. Ryan, initially focused on the passing scenery outside the window, found his attention increasingly drawn to her. With each dip of her head, a jolt of concern would shoot through him.

Finally, unable to ignore it any longer, Ryan sighed inwardly. "Looks like I can’t even enjoy the peace of a carriage ride," he muttered to himself, a hint of annoyance laced his voice.

He rose from his seat and carefully crossed over to Suzy’s side. She looked so peaceful in sleep, her face devoid of the usual spark of defiance. He gently nudged her head towards his shoulder, offering a makeshift pillow. Her sleep deepened with a soft sigh, her lips parting slightly in a vulnerable expression. He closed her open mouth with a single finger.

He stole a glance at her sleeping form, the soft light filtering through the window bathing her face in a gentle glow.

A memory flickered in his mind, a conversation with Byron that had taken place not long ago.

[ FLASHBACK ]

Ryan paced the confines of his study, frustration etched on his features. "She’s completely unsuited for this life," he muttered, referring to Suzy. "She’s impulsive, lacks decorum, and..."

Byron leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You don’t love her, Ryan," he interrupted, his voice calm yet firm. "That much is clear."

Ryan stopped pacing, his gaze snapping towards his brother. "Of course not," he retorted defensively. "We were arranged, a marriage of convenience."

Byron chuckled, "Perhaps not love, Ryan," he conceded. "But there’s a spark, wouldn’t you agree? A simmering something beneath the surface."

Ryan scoffed. "Don’t be ridiculous," he said, but a flicker of uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

"She challenges you, Ryan," Byron continued, his voice laced with amusement. "She’s different from the usual courtly ladies vying for your attention. And that, my brother, makes it all the more interesting."

A playful glint entered Byron’s eyes. "Just wait," he drawled. "You’ll be the first one to fall, mark my words."

[ END OF FLASHBACK ]

He looked back at Suzy, his gaze lingering on the soft rise and fall of her chest. She was adorned in a stunning creation of rich indigo that hugged her curves in all the right places. The luxurious fabric shimmered in the morning light, its simple elegance accentuated by delicate embroidery and subtle beading.

Her auburn hair, usually cascading down her back in a loose braid, was now styled in a high ponytail. A large bow at the back added a touch of playfulness, while a few strategically placed curls framed her face, softening her freckles and highlighting her face.

White gloves, reaching her elbows, added a touch of sophistication, and the simple jewelry – a delicate necklace and earrings – sparkled subtly, drawing attention to her slender neck and delicate features. Even her shoes, crafted in a matching shade of indigo with short, practical heels, complemented the outfit perfectly.

"There’s my flaw again," he thought with a sigh, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. He couldn’t help but notice everything – every detail, every nuance. Suzy, and her rebellious heart, always did things her own way, never hesitating to break the rules or defy expectations. It drove him crazy sometimes – her stubbornness, her impulsiveness – yet, undeniably, it also intrigued him.

"That’s her," he muttered under his breath, a wry smile curling his lips. "Always doing things her own way." He couldn’t deny the subtle defiance in her choice of attire. It wasn’t the simple practicality he’d expected for a journey, it was a statement. A statement that, while likely unintentional, sent a jolt through his usually unruffled composure.

Suzy, in her usual way, had bypassed expectations and chosen something that was both undeniably elegant and undeniably unlike anything a Duchess would typically wear for travel. It was this very unpredictability that both irritated and intrigued him.

"She simply doesn’t care about the rules," he thought, a hint of frustration laced with a grudging respect. There was a boldness to her, a willingness to challenge the status quo that both annoyed him to no end and yet... sparked a flicker of something he couldn’t quite define.

Perhaps it was the defiance in her eyes, the way she met his gaze with an unwavering confidence. Perhaps it was the way she could turn the simplest task into a chaotic situation, leaving him both annoyed or even irritated and strangely entertained. Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny that Suzy had a way of captivating his attention, even when she was infuriating him.

Ryan couldn’t help but reach out and brush a stray curl from her cheek with his thumb. "Stubborn woman," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.