Page 18 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

As she sat still in the saddle and took the reins from the stable boy, she felt eyes upon her. Most men had now looked away, but she turned around to see one man had no intention of looking elsewhere.

What is it about the Duke of Hardbridge’s stare that I like?

It was an intense and unblinking gaze. It only broke when he turned away to follow the other riders.

Within a minute, they were all lined up at the edge of the yard, with Lord Porter at the far end.

“On your marks, when I fire…” He raised a pistol into the air.

There was perfect silence, only disturbed by Celia’s heavy breathing as she gripped the reins tightly, and then the pistol went off.

At the loud bang, all the horses jerked forward.

Yet, Celia’s horse carried the lighter load. She shot across the gardens, following the path that Lady Arundel had pointed out to her, her mare racing ahead of the others. When she reached the edge of the farmland, she glanced back to see there was a great distance between her and any others in the field.

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips as she looked ahead again, turning the horse to race alongside the lake. Moments like this were incredibly freeing. These moments were where she knew it didn’t matter if she chose not to play by the rules.

As she reached the edge of the lake though, she heard the sound of another horse’s hooves.

It’s not possible.

She leaned forward over her mare’s head, urging her to go faster, but it was little use. A great shadow passed over her as a larger horse and a taller rider came alongside her.

Celia looked at the rider in disbelief. The Duke of Hardbridge wasn’t even breaking a sweat as he rode. He looked at her and then gave that infuriating smirk that she was beginning to hate so much—every time she saw it, something lurched deep within her gut.

“I let ye play long enough.” Then he winked.

“You mean—” She broke off, for he flicked the reins of his horse and was gone, shooting off far ahead and alongside the lake.

Celia rode as hard as she could, but try as she might, the lithe mare could not possibly keep up with the strong stallion. She rode after him, trailing behind him all the way up the hill toward their final destination. It didn’t matter to her that she was far ahead of the other riders. All that mattered to her now was the fact thathehad beaten her.

The last part of the journey was no easy feat. The Duke of Hardbridge took the steepest incline, and if she hoped to stay on his tail, she had to do the same. Her mare managed to gain ground a little, and as they rode up the hill, she could not quite make it all the way up.

He rode ahead to the very top of the hill, racing over the finish line, where a few yards away, the other ladies had arrived in their carriages and the footmen were laying out their picnic.

Celia rode over the finish line and stopped, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath. Without words, the Duke of Hardbridge turned his horse and then circled her. She stilled, unable to take her eyes off him.

With ease, he came to a halt and leaped down from the horse, leaving his coat behind and trusting the wild horse to be obedient and stay in one place. He walked toward her and offered her his hands, though he didn’t reach for her hand as the other men had done earlier. Instead, he reached straight for her waist, turning her to pull her down from the horse.

She couldn’t help following his movements. She placed her hands on his shoulders and let him lift her off the horse. The moment her fingers touched him, her stomach fluttered madly, as if a thousand moths lived beneath her skin and had all taken flight at once.

As he lifted her into the air and lowered her to the ground, he brought her body close to his so that her chest slid against his own, ever so subtly.

She should have been outraged at the audaciousness of the movement. She should have cursed at him, but something buried deep within admired the boldness of his actions. Was it not the same sort of boldness she so often indulged in?

“See?” he whispered, his fingers still resting on the curve of her waist. That infuriating smirk was back on his face, lifting his chiseled cheeks and his strong jawline. It didn’t help that hisright hand squeezed ever so softly, his fingers brushing against the curve of her hip. “I don’t even need to talk.”

CHAPTER 6

“Idon’t know what you mean.” Lady Celia released Keith’s shoulders.

The moment her touch was gone, he knew he couldn’t continue to hold on to her, despite the temptation. Soon enough, the ladies who were about to start their picnic would notice that he was holding her for far longer than a man should when helping a lady down from her horse.

It was no easy thing though, releasing Lady Celia’s waist and hip. The mere feel of that curve beneath his broad fingers was making him imagine what could have happened in his chamber the night before had he gripped her beneath her nightgown in such a fashion.

Bold touches in the bedchamber were the best. It was that added intensity, the tension that thrilled him.

“Ye know exactly what I mean,” Keith said, releasing her all the same.

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