Page 11 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

CHAPTER 4

The Duke moved away with ease.

“I’m tempted to tell you to go and drown yourself,” Celia said to his retreating back.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, that same smirk on his lips. “Ye already know I can swim well, lass.”

Keith marched back toward the house. Now that he’d accomplished one goal, he could move on.

He hardly took pleasure in the blackmail, but as he had said, it was necessary, and he always did what was necessary.

As he reached the stairs leading back into the house, however, he found he was not alone. He hesitated as a man stepped up behind him. The man wasn’t quite as tall as him, but strong in bearing and clearly wealthy from what he was wearing.

Keith had spotted him conversing with the Duke of Barlow, though he didn’t know his name.

“The Duke of Berkley,” the man said tightly and offered the slightest of bows.

“Good day.” Keith returned the bow. “Ye have come with something to say?” he questioned, not seeing a reason for delaying such a discussion.

The Duke of Berkley glanced toward where Lady Celia now was with her friends, then stepped forward again.

“I’m married to a good friend of Lady Celia’s,” he said quickly, nodding toward another young woman at the matchmaker’s side. “She was not alone in noticing that your promenade with Lady Celia lasted a little too long.”

“Are there such rules? Should I time how long I walk with a lady?” Keith asked, raising his eyebrows.

The Duke of Berkley grimaced, apparently not liking such rules either. “It’s just the way of things.” He set his face straight again. “I hope nothing untoward has happened to my friend.”

“Untoward? No. It was merely a discussion.” Keith didn’t wish to add fuel to any rumors about him and Lady Celia becoming close. “Rest assured, we merely spoke.”

He nodded once, indicating their conversation was over, before he walked back into the house.

Though the word ‘untoward’ lingered. After what he had felt of Celia’s bare body the night before, he wanted to do many untoward things to her. He focused mainly on the thought of kissing his way down her body.

He could imagine the sheer outrage if anyone ever knew that he was imagining kissing the most secret part of Lady Celia’s body, making her cry out his name.

He’d just have to be careful never to give himself the opportunity to indulge in such fantasies.

“This is a ridiculous idea,” Celia muttered to herself as she looked in the mirror again.

She was wearing a nightgown and her dressing gown, which was tied tightly around her waist. She had wanted to be fully clothed for this meeting with the Duke of Hardbridge, but her lady’s maid had already come and undressed her, and to object to such a thing would be suspicious, indeed.

She reasoned she could dress again herself, but to do so felt strange. After all, the Duke had already seen her in nearly nothing. There was something almost titillating about the idea of rebelling against the norms by going to see him like this.

She folded up the Duke’s shirt into a small ball and then stepped into the corridor. She didn’t take a candle with her, fearing drawing attention to herself this late at night. Slowly, she tiptoed through the corridors, heading toward the wing of the house where she knew all the gentlemen were staying for the night.

Turning a corner, she hesitated when she saw two doors were ajar.

He must be behind one of those doors. It’s his signal, his way of telling me which room he’s in.

She tiptoed toward the first one, her heart in her mouth. Pressing her face to the gap, she peered inside.

Wrong room!

Yet, as fast as this thought struck, she realized something else. Inside this chamber were a lord and a lady.

Celia couldn’t be sure who the pair were.

She saw a blonde lady standing with the gentleman, her face turned up toward his as he moved to kiss her. Fearing what more she would see, Celia hastily backed up from the door, trying to close it as softly and as quietly as she possibly could.

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