Page 14 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

They were things she had never dreamt of doing, not since she found out that such pleasures could lead to absolute ruin and misery.

It’s not worth the risk.

Yet, her eyes darted to his lips too.

“Do not tempt me, lass.” His accent was suddenly all the more noticeable.

“Oh, I’m not tempting you,” she said, taking just a small step back, though that step spoke volumes.

In no uncertain terms, she was telling him that she was not his to kiss and cross boundaries with.

“Tell me,” she urged, “what is it you want in a wife?”

The sooner she got him wed, the better. Then she wouldn’t have to put up with him tempting her by looking at her in such a way.

“One, obedient.” He held up his hand, counting off things on his fingers. “Two, a healthy dowry. Three, demure.”

She snorted at this one.

“What? Ye have something against a lass being demure?”

“No. A woman can be demure if she wants to be, but a man seeking it is never after a truly demure woman. He’s only ever looking for a woman with no opinions. It’s his code for saying he wants to give all the orders in his house,” she pointed out, folding her arms.

“So, ye have no intention of ever following a man’s orders?”

“None.”

“Ye never know. Sometimes, it can be fun.” The way he sat back down on the bed told her exactly what he was referring to.

Celia felt heat radiate through her body at the idea of doing just as the Duke of Hardbridge told her to on that bed. Infuriatingly, she wasn’t anywhere near as scared by the idea as she thought she should be.

On the contrary… it thrills me.

She pointedly took another small step back.

“What else is on your list?” she hissed.

“I do not want a lass who wants to be with me every hour of every day. Finally, I want a woman who doesn’t believe in love and will be happy with the idea of taking lovers in a marriage.”

Celia’s lips fell open. She couldn’t help but glance at the bed. Even though she knew this wasn’t his own bed from his own home, the thought that he hoped to entertain many different ladies in his bed sent another angry thrill through her.

“Ye have a problem with the idea of a man wanting experience, lass?”

“Enough. Love doesn’t work like that,” she spat.

“And I said I am not looking for love. It has no place in marriage.”

“And what about passion?” Her feet seemed to act of their own accord. She crossed the room and stopped before him. “What of that?”

“Ye can have passion without marriage.” His eyes slid down to her lips again. “Ye and I both know that we could have had that passion last night, lass.”

“You’re mad.”

Yet, the words didn’t sound anywhere near as angry from her lips as she wanted them to sound.

Slowly, he rose from the bed and moved toward her. As he bent down, she felt as if her heart was in her mouth.

He’s not… surely, he would not kiss me…

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