Page 13 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“It’s not wise to goad a lady when she has a glass in her hand,” she muttered darkly.

He continued to smirk as he turned and sat on the table.

“There’s a chair.” She pointed at the seat. “Most gentlemen would have sat in the chair.”

“I am no English gentleman.”

Something in his voice made her want to squirm, though she fought the urge, staring at him in wonder.

Apparently, you’re a Scottish warrior.

It was all too easy to believe while sitting there, staring at his strong physique and towering frame. If he’d produced a broadsword from within a coffer nearby, she would have hardly been surprised.

“Of course, you’re no gentleman.” She recovered quickly. “Any man with the slightest goodness in him would know not to blackmail a lady if he wants her help.”

“Would it have been better just to ask?” he scoffed. “In my experience, asking does not get ye far.”

“Are you asking if kindness ever helps a man get what he wants?” She leaned forward, raising her eyebrows. He matched her stance, incredulous. “God’s blood. Welcome to a different world, Your Grace. Wherever you came from, if there was no kindness in it, then I’ll have to adjust my opinion from thinking ill of you to pitying you.”

“I need no pity,” he said sharply, lifting his chin just an inch. “You want kindness? Fine.” He pushed off the table and walked toward her, carrying the decanter in one hand. He used it to top up her glass as she held it aloft to him. “Please help me, lass.”

His voice had softened to something that seemed to pluck a chord within her. She released a shaky breath and hastily took a sip of her whisky, affecting an easy look.

“Now, was that so hard?” she asked with a smile. “Tell me, why do you need a bride so desperately?”

Rather than retreating to the table, he walked away and sat on the edge of his bed. Celia started, realizing for the first time just how close that bed was. With him sitting on the covers, she couldn’t help but imagine sitting next to him.

What would it be like to abandon all rules now that they were alone in his room together?

“I’ve recently taken over my uncle’s estate and dukedom. The tenants, the estate… it needs money if it’s ever going to return to what it once was.”

“Why?” she asked.

He didn’t answer her. He took another sip of his whisky instead.

“I need a wife with a generous dowry. Aye, let us leave it at that,” he said darkly, that gaze warning her not to probe further.

“There are many young ladies to choose from. Why do you need my help?”

“Because I am not out to seduce anyone.”

“Really? You could have fooled me.” Both her voice and her lashes dropped flirtatiously. A voice in her head told her it was a foolish time to push this point, but she couldn’t resist. “You did carry me half-naked out of the lake last night.”

“I am looking for a business arrangement.” He crossed his arms and looked sharply at her, clearly choosing not to take the bait. “Ye find me the best bride—someone obedient, with a dowry, and has no wish to find love—and yer reputation remains intact. Until ye decide to run around naked again, of course. Who knows what man will be pulling ye out of the water then.”

She put down the glass, rage spiking inside of her.

“No one was supposed to see me.” She rose to her feet and walked toward him.

He moved as she did, rising from the bed and putting down his glass on the side table.

They came toward one another in the middle of the room, with him looming over her.

“You, of all people, were certainly not supposed to see.”

“Why, lass?” he goaded, leaning toward her. “Worried a man would be tempted? That he would have taken ye there and then by the water?” His eyes flicked down to her lips.

His words made her blood pound in her ears. She had heard of pleasure. She knew how a woman could reach climax, how it could be so all-encompassing that one could practically lose control of oneself. She also knew how to touch a man to make him groan in pleasure. Her actress friend had whispered such things to her.

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