My Bratty Wife
Chapter 44 - Forty Four

Chapter 44: Chapter Forty Four

A sliver of sunlight peeked through the window, slicing through the darkness of Suzy’s room. The persistent chirping of birds outside served as a rude awakening, shattering the peaceful slumber she had enjoyed. Yawning and stretching, Suzy sat up, the remnants of a dream fading from her mind.

Reality, however, hit her like a cold slap. They were due to leave for the palace at first light, and looking out the window, she could see a clear blue sky replacing the night’s sky. With a jolt, Suzy realized she needed to get moving.

Throwing off the covers, she hurried to the washbasin for a quick freshening up. While the cool water splashed against her face, she mentally reviewed her wardrobe, selecting a simple yet elegant gown for the audience with the King.

Slipping out of her nightgown, she reached for the gown, a beautiful ruby red creation that hugged her curves in all the right places. Everything seemed perfect until she tried to fasten the corset at the back. Her fingers fumbled with the lacing, frustration mounting with each failed attempt.

"Curse these ridiculous corsets!" she muttered under her breath, tugging at the laces with increasing impatience. The gown, meant to make a good impression, now felt like a torture device.

Minutes bled into what felt like hours, but the corset remained stubbornly untied. Suzy’s initial annoyance morphed into full-blown panic. Ryan had specifically told her last night to be ready to leave early. The image of him waiting outside her door, his face etched with impatience, sent a shiver down her spine.

"Just great," she groaned, sinking onto the edge of the bed. Why, oh why, had she insisted on wearing this particular gown? There were others, simpler ones that wouldn’t require the assistance of a contortionist to put on.

She tried again. The laces, tight and unforgiving, refused to budge. She tugged and pulled, her frustration mounting with each failed attempt. Now, she understood why some women resorted to having maids for such tasks.

Suddenly, a sharp rap on the door sent her heart into overdrive. "Duchess! Are you ready?" came Ryan’s clipped voice from the other side.

Suzy’s stomach lurched. There was no way she could answer the door looking like this, half-dressed and defeated by a simple corset. "Just a minute!" she called back, hoping her voice didn’t betray her growing panic.

With a sigh of frustration, he raised his voice and barked, "Duchess! This is unacceptable! I specifically told you last night we needed to be on the road at dawn!"

"Just a little more," she gritted her teeth, determined not to give in. She tried every trick in the book – holding her breath, twisting, even contorting herself in ways that felt anatomically impossible. But the infernal corset remained stubbornly unyielding.

Ryan’s voice broke through again, this time sharper, laced with a hint of annoyance. "Duchess! We haven’t a moment to waste."

Silence.

"Duchess? Is everything alright in there?"Ryan inquired, his brow already furrowed in suspicion. "Perhaps I can be of assistance," he offered, his voice softening slightly.

"Oh, I don’t think so," Suzy replied quickly, a hint of panic in her voice. "This is... well, a woman’s issue. Just find a maid or someone! A female! Anyone who can lace a corset."

Ryan sighed, his annoyance fading. He strode down the hallway and knocked on the innkeeper’s door. A moment later, the man himself appeared, a questioning look on his face.

"My Lord ," he greeted, bowing slightly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Ryan explained their predicament, his voice low and urgent. "I require the assistance of a female... maid or worker, perhaps? My wife is having... some difficulty with her attire."

The innkeeper scratched his head, a frown creasing his brow. "Well, my Lord," he began, "it’s just me and my brother running this place, and our children... well, they are all young lads helping out, but no womenfolk, I’m afraid."

Ryan’s frustration mounted. "No one at all? No wife, no daughters?"

"Well, there’s the missus, of course," the innkeeper said, "but her house is a good half-hour walk from here. It would take a while to fetch her."

Ryan groaned internally. This delay was not part of the plan. He needed to get to the palace early, not waste time waiting for someone to lace her corset. He thanked the innkeeper curtly and turned on his heel, a new plan forming in his mind. He would just have to handle this... situation... himself.

Frustration gnawed at him as he made his way back to Suzy’s door. They were already running behind schedule, and the lack of a maid to help only worsened his mood. Reaching her door, he knocked sharply.

"Duchess," he called out, his voice firm. "There’s no one available to assist you. We’re already late, and I have a strong aversion to tardiness."

Silence greeted him. He knocked again, this time with a bit more urgency. "Duchess? Are you alright?"

Still no answer. A sliver of concern pierced through his irritation. Was she injured? Had she fainted? Against his better judgment, he grasped the doorknob and pushed the door open a crack.

The sight that met his eyes surprised him into silence. Suzy stood facing the mirror, her back turned to him. The ruby red gown, partially unlaced, clung to her curves, revealing a tantalizing expanse of bare skin. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, one hand reaching around her back in a futile attempt to grasp the loose laces.

Her voice, laced with frustration, broke the silence. "I tried, Ryan," she admitted without turning around. "Honestly, I tried. But these laces are so stubborn, and I can’t seem to get them into the eyelets."

The image of Suzy’s bare back, framed by the red gown and her frustrated voice, sent a strange jolt through Ryan. It was a mix of surprise, a flicker of something unfamiliar, and a healthy dose of annoyance at the delay.

"Duchess," he began, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. "We are already behind schedule. This... situation... needs to be rectified immediately."

Suzy spun around, the red fabric swirling around her like a frustrated mermaid. "I know that, Ryan! But these laces..." she gestured helplessly at the back of her gown, "they seem to have a mind of their own."

Ryan’s jaw clenched. He hated delays, and this one, caused by something as trivial as a corset, was particularly irksome. "There’s no time for this," he said coldly. "There are two options."

Suzy raised an eyebrow, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "Options?"

"Indeed," Ryan continued, his voice devoid of emotion. "Option one: we find someone, anyone, outside to help you with this... predicament." He emphasized the word ’predicament’ as if it were a personal affront.

Suzy scoffed. "Find someone on this deserted road? Are you suggesting I flag down a passing peasant and beg them to unlace my gown? That would cause a scandal."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Duchess," Ryan countered, his brown eyes holding hers. "Unless you have a better suggestion?"

Suzy crossed her arms, the ruby red gown shimmering in the morning light. "There has to be another way."

"There isn’t," Ryan stated flatly. "Option two: I help you."

Suzy’s eyes widened in surprise. The very idea of Ryan, the epitome of stoicism, attempting to handle something as delicate as a corset was absurd, almost laughable. "You? Help me? With this?" She gestured at the back of her gown, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

Ryan’s lips twitched ever so slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Yes, me. However," he continued before she could launch into another round of sarcasm, "it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience for either of us. I would, of course, keep my eyes closed."

Suzy’s mouth fell open in disbelief. The audacity of the suggestion left her speechless for a moment.

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with horror.

"Well," Ryan replied, his face an unreadable mask. "The choice is yours, Duchess. But remember, time is of the essence." He paused, letting his words sink in.

"If you choose neither option," he continued, his voice turning icy, "I will be forced to leave you here. I will send word to Davis to retrieve you, and I will inform the King of your sudden... indisposition." The last word dripped with sarcasm.

Suzy stared at him, her anger warring with a strange sense of helplessness. The thought of being left behind, alone in this remote inn, was not appealing. Neither was the prospect of facing the King with a flimsy excuse for her absence.

Suzy stood frozen, her mind racing. The options Ryan presented were both utterly unappealing. The thought of a stranger fiddling with her corset was an invasion of privacy, while the idea of Ryan, with his stoic demeanor and complete lack of experience, attempting such a task was enough to send shivers down her spine.

She chewed on her lip, frustration gnawing at her. "Just wait a minute," she muttered, desperately searching for a third option that didn’t involve strangers or him.

Unfortunately, no brilliant idea materialized. As Ryan started to turn away, a defeated sigh escaped her lips. This entire situation was a disaster.

Just as he reached the door, her hand shot out, grasping the back of his coat. Ryan stopped, his body tensing at her touch. Shame burned in Suzy’s cheeks, but the urgency of the situation overshadowed her pride.

"Alright, alright," she conceded, her voice barely a whisper. "Fine. Please help me."

A flicker of surprise crossed Ryan’s face, so fleeting it could have been a trick of the light. He turned back towards her, his expression unreadable.

"Turn around," he commanded.

Suzy did as instructed, her heart hammering against her ribs. She felt his presence close behind her, the heat radiating from his body a stark contrast to the cold air of the room.

Suddenly, a strong hand reached out and grasped a fistful of her curly hair. With a gentle yet firm tug, he pushed her hair forward, revealing the expanse of her bare back in all its vulnerability.

Suzy’s breath hitched in her throat. This sudden closeness, this unexpected intimacy, sent a wave of heat through her. Her mind went blank, thoughts scattered like fallen leaves in a whirlwind.

He didn’t waste any time. His hands moved with surprising dexterity, his fingers cool against her warm skin as he began to maneuver the corset laces. Every touch, light as it was, sent a jolt through her.

"Hold still," he muttered under his breath, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.

Suzy, however, found it increasingly difficult to remain still. Her knees, for no apparent reason, had begun to tremble, threatening to buckle beneath her. Mortified, she whispered, "I-I can’t help it. My knees..."

Before she could finish her sentence, he surprised her again. His hand shot out, firmly pressing against the small of her back, pushing her body against the wall. The sudden contact sent a jolt through her, both physical and emotional.

"What was that for?" She asked, her voice laced with a hint of anger.

"Your knees," he said, his voice a low growl close to her ear, "are distracting me , Duchess."

His words were a bare whisper, yet they carried an undeniable heat that sent shivers down her spine. For a moment, they stood there, their bodies pressed together in a way that was entirely inappropriate for the situation.

Then, as abruptly as it began, the moment was over. He moved back, his voice regaining its usual stoic tone. "Done," he announced, his eyes fixed on something other than her.

Suzy, feeling flustered and surprisingly breathless, reached for her lipstick, a subconscious attempt to regain some semblance of control. "Just a touch of color," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

"Unnecessary," Ryan countered, his gaze still averted. He stepped forward again, his movements purposeful.

Before she could object, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. He gently cupped her face in one hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek, sending a spark of awareness tingling down her spine.

With the handkerchief in the other hand, he brushed against her lips, removing any excess lipstick. Then, to her complete surprise, he began to blend the remaining color with his thumbs, his touch lingering on her lips for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

The scent of his cologne, a mix of leather and something woodsy, filled her senses. For a moment, they were lost in a silent world, their faces mere inches apart.

Ryan, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having, finally broke away. "Done," he announced, his voice a husky whisper.

"We’re wasting more time. Let’s go."

He turned towards the door, his expectation clear. Suzy, still reeling from the unexpected intimacy, could only mutter "what was that all about?"