Page 57 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“It’s the last time I’m weak with you. My reputation will not stand it if I’m ever discovered in a room like this with you.”

That was her final word. She was still adjusting her hair as she marched out of the dressing room.

He nearly followed her, but he was still half undressed, and it would certainly cause a scandal to run after her through the corridors of a theatre in this state. Hurriedly, he finished changing, his body still thrumming with the excitement of what they had done.

Ah, Celia. Ye may be strong enough to stay away, but I am not.

He couldn’t do it. Hadn’t he been trying to do it? Ever since they had come back to London, he had been trying his best to avoid moments like this, yet it had happened anyway.

And in the name of the wee man above, I loved every second of that.

He growled in frustration at himself, running his hands through his dark hair as he sat on the edge of the chaise longue, reliving in his mind all that he and Celia had just done.

The way she had felt, the way she had moaned breathily, how easily she had melted into his kiss and his touch… it all proved that she was as infatuated with him as he was with her, as intoxicated by his touch as he was by hers.

So, why do we have to stop?

He pulled on the tailcoat he hated so much and left the room. If anyone in the corridor stared at him, wondering why he was there, he didn’t notice. He was far too busy thinking of Celia and the way she had bolted out of that room so quickly.

By the time he found his box again, it was the end of the intermission. As he stepped into the box, he was dismayed to see that his mother and his cousin Frances were no longer alone.

Elizabeth was smiling broadly. She was giddy with excitement to be at the opera, though her eyes were no longer fixed on the stage as the curtain lifted, indicating the performance was about to resume. Her eyes were trained on the two other women who had entered his box.

“Ah, Keith, there you are,” Elizabeth declared happily, turning to take his arm. “You remember Lady Alicia from Lady Arundel’s party? This is her mother, Lady Dawson.”

Lady Alicia bowed her blonde head bashfully as her mother appraised him without any attempt to hide it. She must have approved of him, despite the fact that he was a little disheveled after what he had just done.

“Ladies.” Keith bowed in greeting.

He stole a glance at Frances. As he was now her guardian, he had seen her most days since coming to England. So far, he had judged her to be quite a perceptive young lady.

Frances did not surprise him now. Her eyes narrowed a little as she looked at him. He cleared his throat, shifting his focus back to Lady Alicia and Lady Dawson, in the hope it would dispel any suspicions Frances might have.

“Your Grace, I am delighted to meet you at last,” Lady Dawson said, rising from her seat and moving toward him.

“It is a pleasure to meet ye,” he said stiffly and then nodded toward the stage, where the actors had taken their spots again. “Shall we sit and enjoy the rest of the performance?”

“Yes, of course.”

Despite her words, Lady Dawson made no move to return to her seat. Lady Alicia was looking at him rather eagerly too, her eyes wide.

This is hopeless.

Keith kept the thought to himself, though one glance at his cousin showed she thought the same thing. She shrugged so much that her shoulders practically brushed the two loose dark curls that hung down from her updo.

“I hear you and my daughter met at Lady Arundel’s party,” Lady Dawson said, her smile ridiculously broad.

“Ye could say that,” Keith murmured, glancing at Lady Alicia and wondering what had been said.

Something deep in his gut told him he should have been happy at being accosted in such a way. He was so indifferent toward Lady Alicia that marrying her would surely be the solution he had been looking for.

He couldn’t love her, couldn’t be obsessed with having her at his side the whole time the way his father had been obsessed with his mother.

Yet… when he looked at her, something in his gut curdled. He looked to the other box, desperately seeking out Celia. Her attention was fixed on the performance, which had now resumed.

“We met at the party, aye, My Lady,” he said woodenly.

“Oh, he is too modest.” Elizabeth giggled. “They were seen together, more than once.”

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