My Bratty Wife

A sudden, violent crack of thunder, so loud it seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle, ripped Suzy from a shallow, tormented sleep. She jolted upright in the vast, canopied bed, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs, a gasp caught in her throat. Rain lashed against the tall windows of the bedchamber, driven by a howling wind, each gust sounding like a mournful wail.

She was drenched in sweat, her silk nightgown clinging unpleasantly to her skin despite the chill in the air. The dream... she had fallen back into that same terrible dream. The blood, Byron’s mad, triumphant laughter, and the final, deafening bang. Ryan... oh, God, Ryan... lying so still on the cold, unforgiving ground. The image was burned into the back of her eyelids, a horrific afterimage that refused to fade.

"Ryan," she whispered into the darkness, her voice trembling. "I hope Ryan is doing fine. Please, please be fine." But the thought offered no comfort. A frantic, primal terror seized her, clawing at her reason. The storm outside was nothing compared to the tempest raging within her. She couldn’t just lie here, suffocating in this luxurious bed, waiting. Waiting for what? For grim news to arrive with the morning light? For her nightmare to become her reality?

"No," she said, her voice a raw whisper. "No, no, I can’t stay here and wait."

Propelled by an irresistible, panicked urgency, she threw back the heavy covers and swung her legs out of bed. Her bare feet met the cold floorboards, but she didn’t notice. Her only thought, her only all-consuming need, was Ryan. She had to get to him. She had to see for another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by another deep rumble of thunder, spurring her on.

She flung open the bedchamber door and rushed out into the dimly lit corridor. Noah, who had been standing guard dutifully outside her door as per the Duke’s strict instructions, was startled by her sudden, frantic appearance. Her hair was a wild, tangled mess around her shoulders, her eyes wide with terror, her face pale as death.

"Your Grace!" he exclaimed, stepping in her path. "Are you well? What is it? Should I get Irene for you? Or Doctor Abernathy?"

Suzy shook her head violently, her gaze fixed on the grand staircase at the end of the hall, as if it were a gateway to another world. "No, Noah," she said, her voice strained, breathless. "Get Ryan. I need Ryan here. Now."

Noah’s face fell, his expression turning to one of helpless concern. "He... he isn’t back yet, Your Grace. It is still the middle of the night."