Keith could even see the way she snuck glances at him, all coy. He preferred the bolder look.

“Are you enjoying the poetry evening?” she asked, moving to his side to pour herself a drink.

“Well enough,” he lied, knowing it would not do to say that his mind was elsewhere.

Aye, it’s upstairs, with Celia.

A strong memory flashed through his mind—Celia arching her back, moaning, her hair falling back. The way she had responded to his every touch was a delicious memory. He nearly downed his drink and marched back to her chamber.

Damn the scars on my back. Surely their discovery is worth a night with Celia?

“Your Grace?”

“I’m sorry?” Keith realized he had quite ignored Lady Alicia as she spoke to him. “My apologies. I was distracted by the… poem.” He gestured rather unenthusiastically to the lady that was now reciting.

It was a Shakespeare sonnet. At least this one was a little better than some of the others.

“And what did you make of the last poem, Your Grace? It was beautiful, wasn’t it? So serene and peaceful in its description of love.”

“Yes, peaceful,” Keith said, trying to sound much more interested than he was.

Is love a peaceful thing?

In his dubiousness, he took a rather large gulp of the Armagnac.

“Stars, hide your fires,” the young lady who was reciting began. “Let not light see my black and deep desires.” She hesitated, then continued, but those words struck Keith most particularly.

It was true that he was trying to keep his greatest desire hidden. He couldn’t quite bear the thought of anyone knowing what he and Celia had done. It wasn’t so much his reputation he was concerned about as the fact that what they had shared wastheirs,and that’s how he wished it to remain. It was their secret and no other’s.

“You are fond of poetry?” Keith attempted more conversation with Lady Alicia. After all, if Lady Alicia was in need of a husband, and he was in need of a wife with a dowry, then Celia could be right—perhaps Lady Alicia was a serious contender.

“I was fond of the last one.” She smiled sweetly. “I rather like the idea of a peaceful love. It makes for a happy marriage, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” He looked away.

Or a boring one.

He remembered the fire when Celia had kissed him the night before out on the terrace, then he recalled the way he had carried her out of the lake. There had been nothing peaceful in their interactions thus far, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You seem distracted, Your Grace.” Lady Alicia looked away.

Keith felt a surge of guilt. Here was a lady who was vying for his attention. She could be exactly what he had said he was searching for, but meanwhile, he could not stop thinking of the lady he had practically made his lover.

Be practical, you fool. You want a marriage without passion and excitement. You want to not need one another.

An unpleasant memory flashed through his mind.

In a flash, he was a child again, peering around the staircase in his father’s castle. He saw his mother, her cheeks streaked with tears as she ran away from her husband. She sprinted like a mad woman, trying with one hand to pull her torn gown back into place. A shout sounded behind her.

On the stairs, his mother nearly ran into him. Elizabeth halted, clapping her hand over her mouth when she saw him there.

“He cannot discover us here,”she had whispered to Keith, taking his hand.“Come, let us be quick. You know what he is like when he is in such a temper.”

“Elizabeth! I need ye here! Come back at once!”

Yet, she didn’t listen to her husband. She took Keith’s hand and ran with him up the stairs. Keith kept glancing back, fearing that his father would soon be upon them.

He always insisted on needing Elizabeth. In particular, he needed Elizabeth to be at his beck and call.