Page 38 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

He stared at the board for a few seconds, determined this time to not slip and let her take anything so important as a bishop again. He was a competitive man, and he hoped to win both games they were playing.

He tried to hide his smile when he saw his opportunity. He took her queen’s side castle.

“There. I trust there are no more stockings beneath that bedding of yers?” he challenged.

She cast her eyes to the heavens, as if pleading for patience. Slowly, her fingers went for the tie of her dressing gown.

He sat back with his arms folded across his chest.

“You could look elsewhere, you know,” she whispered.

“I never made such a promise.” His gaze was fixed on what she was doing.

“A gentleman would look away…” she said leadingly.

“And I’m no gentleman, we discussed that.” His eyes flicked briefly to hers. “I’m a different sort of man.”

When a blush crept up her cheeks, he almost lost it. He’d been hoping for days to see her blush at his words, but she was so bold, it took a lot to take her by surprise.

As the tie of her dressing gown fell away, she pulled it down her shoulders.

The nightgown beneath barely covered anything at all. The lace was molded to her breasts, leaving little to the imagination when it came to her curves. He practically growled as he looked at her narrow waist.

She was the perfect shape for him, not too slim and thin like a stick, but womanly. It was hardly helping that the sleeves of her nightgown were just delicate straps, revealing her shoulders. She pulled up one of those straps rather self-consciously.

“My turn.” She moved her piece forward and took the pawn he had willingly sacrificed, though she clearly didn’t recognize his ploy. “There. So…” She looked up from the board. “Will you marry Lady Alicia?”

He blinked, having to work hard to remember who Lady Alicia was. Then, he remembered the pretty blonde lady he saw at the house party. It was the same woman Celia had mentioned the night before at the ball.

Marry her?

“You asked me to find you a bride. I did.” Celia sat forward. “Now, will you marry her?”

“That’s the question ye want to ask me?” he said with interest, reaching toward the bed.

“You haven’t answered yet. We can’t continue our game without you taking your turn.”

“I don’t see why not.” He took her other castle, much to her annoyance. “I don’t want to talk about other people right now.”

“Why not?”

“It’s yer turn, sweetheart.” He nodded toward the last thing she had on—her nightgown.

She sat forward, her hands gripping the bedcovers on her lap as she went beet red.

“You haven’t answered my question. I will hardly remove my nightgown without you answering it. Those are not the rules of our game.”

“But ye will remove yer nightgown if I answer it?” he said with a chuckle, rather liking this idea.

None of her curves would be hidden from him then, and unlike the night he had carried her out of the lake, the room was sobright, with daylight streaming through the windows, that he’d be able to seeeverything.

“It doesn’t matter who I marry, lass.”

“Why not? What else could possibly matter?” She stared at him, her green eyes wide.

“What matters…” He paused, watching as one of her hands lingered on the strap of her nightgown. The glimpse of her breasts and the challenge in her voice were enough to make him snap. “What matters is what I take.”

CHAPTER 11

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