Page 23 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

He undid the bow with one quick flick of his fingers and pulled the card free, then he lifted it with the tiny pencil attached to it on a piece of string. He crossed out all the other names on the card.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t reply, he was too busy doing exactly what he wanted to do. He looked up from the card to meet her gaze. He could see the rage there. Her eyes were wide and flashing with anger, but he didn’t care.

The mere thought of that scrawny man dancing with her again… it’s appalling.

“You wouldn’t,” she warned, but he was already doing it.

With a flourish, he wrote down his name against every entry on the dance card.

“Are you mad?” she hissed.

“It’s done. Ye are only allowed to dance with me tonight.”

CHAPTER 7

The music for the next dance began.

Celia didn’t know what to do as the Duke of Hardbridge tied her dance card back around her wrist. He was surprisingly gentle with the ribbon, the material just caressing her skin.

“The music began, lass,” he said, his voice as deep as she remembered it being that first night by the lake.

She nodded slowly. He held out his hand to her, and Celia took it woodenly.

She knew a gentleman somewhere would be irked, but what else was she supposed to do? She could make a scene. As she was known for being bold and reckless, it probably wouldn’t harm her reputation, but for some reason… she didn’t.

She wanted to know how well the brutish-looking Highland Duke could dance.

They took their places in the middle of the dance floor as it became clear what sort of dance it was.

A waltz.

They bowed and curtsied to one another, with Celia very aware of the way the Duke watched her as he bowed. His eyes never left her gown.

As the music grew in speed, he stepped toward her, offering her his hand. Even before she had taken it, his other hand landed on her waist, drawing her forward.

There was something in the firmness of his touch that made her take his hand that little bit quicker.

He led with determination and clear precision, his eyes never leaving hers as he spun them around the dance floor.

“If we are to spend all evening dancing, we must at least talk,” she murmured to him, her voice drowned out by the music.

“Ye are not a fan of silence?”

“Not when you are staring at me like that, no.”

“And here I thought ye rather liked the way I looked at ye, lass.” His hand slid further across her waist and onto her back.

For a second, she could not think of what to say in reply. She thought only of that touch and the way he moved his hand to pull her nearer to his body. She now had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

“Aye, at least ye don’t deny it.” He chuckled.

“I am truly beginning to hate you.”

“Aye, I can tell that too, lass.” He bent an inch toward her as he directed her around another couple, avoiding a collision. “That’s why ye closed yer eyes the other night, wasn’t it? When ye and I nearly?—”

“Enough.” She leaned a little back from him. “Lesson one if you are going to catch a wife from the ton, Your Grace—do not cross the boundaries of intimacy before you are married.”

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