Yes, as loath as I am to admit it, I’ve missed these little gatherings. Try as I might to relish my alone time, this right here… it reminds me of why some company is worth cherishing.
Ronan surprised himself with these thoughts, especially considering the strange mood he had been in these last few days. Fighting within himself as he was, determined to ignore that which rocked him, knowing what it meant while wishing and praying it would not be the case because that would be far easier than the alternative.
Of course, it was Thalia who occupied his thoughts. She had ensnared him like no other and he had less than a clue what to do about it.
“So, who is to go first?” Sebastian looked about the group of friends.
“First?” Cassian asked. “What are you talking about, man?”
“You remember how these things used to go,” Sebastian explained. “One of us would have a…” He chuckled and shook his head. “A complaint. A misdeed. A wrong brought upon their shoulders that they needed to unload. No judgements, bad advice only. So, who is first?”
“Wish that I could…” Alaric sighed as he settled into his chair, a glowing smile across his sharp features. “But the wife would kill me if she found out I was talking about her behind her back.”
Cassian snorted. “Gone soft, have we?”
“And you can talk!” Alaric shot back. “Come on then. Give us something. For example, how did you manage to sneak out to be here? I thought the wife kept you locked in her room.”
“Nice try.” Cassian winked. “But you’ll get no such complaints from me either.”
“Same here,” Sebastian added, a smile also taking his visage. “Would that I could but…” A casual shrug and a mouthful of ale. “Life is good, so why complain?”
“So, that’s it, is it?” Alaric looked between his friends. “The Wicked Dukes turned to… to what, exactly?”
“I would offer the Happy Dukes,” Cassian tried. “The Content Dukes, perhaps? But they just don’t have the same ring to them, do they?”
“Ronan?” Alaric was on his friend. “Anything to add? Surely your morose and utterly depressed self can salvage the situation?”
“Try again,” Sebastian laughed. “He’s worse than the three of us put together. As loved up as?—”
“Careful,” Ronan growled, eyeing each of them in warning.
“He speaks!”
“Prove us wrong then,” Sebastian said, the look behind his eyes as wicked as the name of their group might suggest. “A complaint. A tale of woe. Something to justify these meetings, lest we might have to disband them altogether.”
Once again, all three friends turned on Ronan as if they expected him to do as asked. But that was not the point, and he knew it for a fact. What they really wanted, the reason this meeting was called in the first place, was to confirm what each of them was starting to suspect. That Ronan, the final member of the Wicked Dukes, was wicked no more.
I shouldn’t have come. When Alaric suggested it… I should have realized what he was trying to do.
But then why did he come? To prove otherwise, desperate to keep a hold of his reputation because it was all he had in this world? Or was he, like his friends before him, ready to hang up the laurels of loneliness and morosity, because some things in this world were worth changing yourself for?
He wished that he knew what he wanted.
It had been three days ago when he and Thalia attended the garden party which had ended when his fist found its way into Lord Westmere’s repugnant nose. He had no regrets about his actions because the despicable lordling had deserved it. What Ronan regretted was what had happened after.
Ronan could not stop thinking about it. The moment shared with Thalia in the foyer—confessions made, the tense silence falling between them, the look in her eyes as she leaned in and offered herself to him in ways he did not think he wanted but now wondered how he had managed to control himself again.
He should have kissed her. He wanted to kiss her. His lips tingled at the thought and Ronan cursed himself for running as he had done.
But it was also the right move—the only move! He told himself this often, forcing the lie down his throat because Ronan could not risk opening himself to someone like that. A marriage of convenience was one thing, but if it transformed into something more, it would open the way to pain and suffering and heartache because as far as Ronan was concerned that was inevitable for anyone who might dare to trust him.
It was for Thalia’s sake that I turned her down. She might not thank me for it, but it was for the best…
“I would love nothing more than to satisfy you each with the laboring’s of my marriage,” Ronan growled, making sure to look each of his friends dead in the eye. “But there is nothing to tell.”
“Exactly,” Sebastian said with satisfaction. “Ronan is a changed man?—”
“There is nothing to tell because my marriage is not worth speaking about,” Ronan interrupted him. “As I have already explained, it is a marriage of convenience, and that is how it will remain. My wife lives under my roof, but we do not talk and we do not interact. She is nothing to me.” He felt his stomach twist at the lie.
