Madison Cleary

Work in progress

Hiya there...I took a break from writing for a while but now I feel like I could get back to it. Here is a little excerpt from something I'm working on....

Stalking down the hall, his leg blasting shots of pain through him with every step he took. He pushed open the door of his mothers chambers to find her carefully laying her bed and his father standing by the window with his back to her. So they still shared the same bed chamber. The commotion caused the man to turn around and Deckan faced the pain of his existence for the first time in five years.

His father had changed, he looked older and a little frail. His green eyes were not as menacing as he remembered but he still stood with his authoritative height. His eyes battled with his son's, neither one of them backing down. Deckan shifted his weight and his father's eyes trailed to his leg, then up to his chest where red lines contrasted with his bronzed skin. 'Where is my valet?' his question was directed to his mother but his gaze never left his father's.

'He is no longer serving with us,' she responded not watching the two men in her life loathe each other with stares. She knew, she could feel the hatred in the air. 'We had to release the entire household five years ago son...'

'So you could hide that man's shame,' he said more of a statement.

'It is quite too early in the morning for this Deckan,' satisfied she had laid the bed well she turned to him. Her eyes trailed his skin. It hurt her knowing she couldn't protect her son from her husband and she couldn't save her husband from himself. She had wondered for a long time what he looked like. Deckan had never been open about what usually happened in her husband study after she was sent from the room. She assumed a scolding was given, a verbal reprimand at the most. But the morning after his accident, when she finally laid eyes on her son's bare skin she hated her husband. Every time she saw him she was reminded of what her son looked like. They lived under the same roof but barely spoke. Five years Regina had waited to see him and five years she detested the man she was left with. He went about his business and she acted like she didn't care. 'Why are you not dressed?'

'I left my belongings in the carriage.' He looked at his mother. Her ever delicate frame, he felt sorry for her, having to put up with a man who disregarded her opinion and feelings. A man who disregarded her as a woman. A man who disrespected her and the sanctity of marriage, a marriage that was conducted before God.

'And where is your carriage,' she raised a brow.

'On a road somewhere...Did you let go of all the staff?' his eyes turned to his father.

'Do you plan on parading yourself in that fashion during your stay? We may have moved ahead in the times Deckan but there are ladies that reside under this roof,' she could see a storm coming. They had not even had breakfast. She hoped, no prayed, his time here would help him heal his wounds and forgiveness would be given and taken, for she needed to forgive the Duke. She needed to love him once more.

He looked at his mother. 'I would have had no stay had you responded to my letters mother.'

'Deckan, that is no way to speak to your mother,' his father spoke from across the room. His voice was no longer the thunderous tone he remembered, it was weak.

His eyes turned to the Duke. King of Marksfield Manor, 'and how do you suppose I should address my mother, Your Grace?'

'Enough,' she placed herself in front of Deckan. 'I shall have Ann-Marie find something suitable for you. Deckan,' she pulled his attention. 'How is the leg?'

'Blasted pain,' he turned and left.

Regina turned to Don, 'you would do well to remember it was because of you that boy left this house. Your doing! I will not have him scamper back to London a wounded man do you understand me? Fix your relationship Don or so help me God, I will leave with him and you can have your fill of women,' she marched out of the room.

Don turned back to the window. The sun was rising today. He had been given another day, another chance to fix what he had broken. He had this one chance to apologize for what he had put his son through.