Page 19 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“A true gentleman would have let a lady win.” She turned and righted the reins behind her, settling her horse.

“I never said I was a gentleman, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, turning sharply around to face him again.

He chuckled and walked away, turning to busy himself with his own horse. He couldn’t help sneaking a glance at Lady Celia every few seconds though, hoping she did not notice.

He was reluctant to admit it, but she was indeed a very impressive rider. He had not expected to find an English lady who could ride with so much fervor. The way her hips had rocked in the saddle as she rode, though, had made him think things he shouldn’t.

He pictured her above him, riding him as she had ridden that horse, her hips rocking back and forth as she pleasured them both. He’d squeeze the curve of her hips as she did so, perhaps tug on her hair, as she cried out his name.

“Picnic?” The Duke of Barlow’s voice made Keith look away, interrupting his thoughts of Lady Celia.

“Aye, picnic.” Keith nodded.

“Nice riding,” the Duke of Barlow said as they left their horses behind and made their way toward the picnic blankets. “A soldier, eh?”

“Ye got that from the rumors or the way I rode?”

“Both.” The Duke of Barlow smiled. “But I’m happy to be corrected.” He walked a little slower, urging Keith to do the same. “A little advice on rumors, though. If you wish to stop idle tongues, be careful how much time you spend talking to Lady Celia alone.”

“Ye’re warning me away from her?” Keith asked with a laugh. “Yer friend, the Duke of Berkley, already did that.”

“Warning you off? Far from it.” The Duke of Barlow laughed, shaking his head. “I know firsthand how the ton like to take a rumor and run with it.” A darkness took over his expression, one that told Keith all he needed to know.

At one time, the ton’s words made this man miserable.

“Only let them talk about what you want them to talk about. It’s the best advice I can give,” the Duke of Barlow whispered.

“Thank ye, Duke,” Keith said, appreciating the kindness, even if it was said rather gruffly.

Perhaps not all men here are alike.

“Call me Xander.” The Duke of Barlow waved his hand dismissively. “With all these nobles around, we’ll get confused calling each other ‘Duke’ all the time.”

“Very well.” Keith smiled and followed Xander over to the picnic.

As Xander went to kiss his wife in greeting, Keith’s eyes slid to the Duchess’s sister, Celia.

She was now doing her best to pretend he didn’t exist as she took her seat between her friends on the picnic blanket. In fact, she might have even been blushing. He had not often seen color on her cheeks, though he rather wondered if she had been blushing the night he had carried her out of the lake naked.

Something practically purred in his chest at the memory as he took a seat across the blanket, a distance from her. It was rather like a giant tiger, some fierce cat purring at the mere thought of her, determined to have her.

No more. I cannot indulge in imaginings anymore.

Yet, his eyes defied him as he looked at her and the way she was talking to her friends.

Becoming infatuated with Lady Celia could lead to nothing good. Had he not witnessed firsthand how marriage could make everyone involved miserable?

He looked away to where his mother was sitting with Lady Arundel. It was the happiest he could ever remember seeing Elizabeth. Without her husband, back in England, she was free at last to be who she wanted. Even the way she smiled made his heart soar.

This is why I need a wife who doesn’t want to spend time with me. We won’t make each other miserable, we can live apart, and I’ll feel no need to ‘own’ her.

The last thought struck him in a startling way. Of their own accord, his eyes flicked back to Lady Celia. He couldn’t quite imagine any man trying to own her, though he envied the man who could give it a try.

“Well, I can see you’re mad that you didn’t win.” Violet’s words made Celia roll her eyes as she busied herself with the food.

“Oh, she’s fuming,” Grace said in agreement, nodding fervently. “She can’t even look us in the eye.”

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