Page 85 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“Keith?” she whispered.

He pushed himself up, and his length slid out of her. Confused, she rolled over onto her knees and watched as he rose from the bed and reached for a cloth to clean himself up.

“What just happened?” she murmured in amazement. “Just like that, the moment is over? Surely not.”

He grabbed a second cloth, dipped it in a washbasin, and then moved back toward her. With surprising gentleness, considering all they had just done, he cleaned her too, mopping away the little blood that showed he was indeed her first.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He smiled. It was a genuine smile, not a smirk. She trailed a hand up his shoulder, trying to pull him down toward her again for another kiss, but when her fingers brushed against the material of his shirt, he recoiled.

“What is going on?” she asked. “All I want to do is take off your shirt. Is that really such a difficult thing to do after what we have just done? There is not a part of my body you have not seen now.”

“I know,” he practically growled as he tossed the cloths in the washbasin.

“Did you not enjoy what we just did?” She panicked. Had she been the only one to feel that thrill? He’d seemed to feel the same way. “Can you really cry out my name in such a way and not mean it?”

“Of course, I bloody meant it.” He rounded on her. “It’s just… this.” He paused and took the shoulder of his shirt, shaking it. “I cannot let ye see everything, sweetheart.”

CHAPTER 24

“Please.” Celia’s soft voice and the way she was looking at him were his undoing.

How can I refuse her anything after what we just did?

It had been unreal, the stuff of dreams. Never in his life had he felt such passion, so all-encompassing or amazing. Then again, this had been with Celia. He should have been prepared for the fact that everything with her was something so much more.

“It’s my secret,” he said sternly, stepping back from her.

He briefly considered running out of the room. It didn’t really matter that he was nearly naked, just so long as she didn’t see what he was hiding.

“This is not about secrets.” Celia moved closer to him on the bed.

She was intoxicating to him. There was nothing she was hiding from him now as she challenged him, her red hair falling out of its updo, wild around her shoulders. Her breasts were on show, her rear—everything, for she was willing to be completely open with him.

“Keith,” she whispered, “I just want to feel your skin on mine.”

He sighed. This was what he had promised himself. Even though he may not be able to be the husband she needed, he had vowed to himself before the wedding that he would be the lover she wanted. Was he to fail at the first hurdle and refuse to let her explore him?

“As ye wish.” He tugged his shirt over his head, careful to keep facing her. It kept his secret hidden for just a few minutes longer.

She stepped off the bed, a pleasant smile curving her lips as her eyes roamed over him. He kept himself trim, and the way she was drinking in the sight of him was already making his length twitch. If she could keep looking at him like that as he made love to her, that would be a thrill indeed.

She walked toward him, her hand outstretched, clearly worried he was going to run away from her again. This time, Keith held his ground.

Her palm reached for the center of his chest. That first touch made him inhale sharply. It was a reminder of that first night at the lake, where he had carried her out of the water shirtless. There in the dark, his secret had been kept safe, but thisbedroom was too bright with the daylight for it to stay hidden for much longer.

She explored him, her fingers trailing down his chest and his abdomen. She even ran her fingers across his biceps and his shoulders. Slowly, she circled him.

Keith closed his eyes, knowing what was coming.

She halted for a second, and then one slow finger ran down the biggest scar that cut across the middle of his back.

“What happened to you?” she whispered.

“This is why I didn’t want to do this.” He wished he had his shirt back in his hands. Instead, he stepped forward, desperately increasing the distance between them so she couldn’t touch his scars again. He turned to face her, hiding them. “I don’t want yer pity.”

“Pity?” She looked as if she had been kicked in the gut by his words. “This is not pity.”

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