Page 96 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

Turning back, he waved goodbye to his mother and cousin. His mother was crying now as Franes wrapped an arm affectionately around her and held her tight.

Keith’s eyes flicked up to the house next. It was true, he had come to think of this house as his home—a thought he would now have to discard.

In a window, he saw something move. He prayed it was Celia watching him go, but then he realized it wasn’t Celia at all but two maids looking on avidly.

Where is she?

He searched every window for her, wishing for one last glimpse of her spirited eyes and her wild red hair, but she was nowhere to be seen. Gutted, he turned away and faced the path ahead.

“Your Grace…” the footman called from the cart. “We cannot keep riding like this—we could break the cart.”

“We’ll push on for as long as we can. We can rest for the night at the next village.”

Keith knew he was being stubborn, but somehow, by riding with so much purpose and speed, he was helping to distract himself.

The steed beneath him struggled to pull his hoofs through the boggy ground as the rain fell, lashing them and the earth hard. It was even difficult to see the trees and the road ahead, for the rain had brought with it a sort of mist that made him feel as if they were the only people in the world.

“Woah, woah!” Keith had to calm the horse more than once as it threatened to bolt.

Lightening struck overhead. His horse and the stallion pulling the cart both reared back in alarm. The stallion nearly threw the cart over as Keith scrambled to keep control of his steed.

“There, girl. Calm yerself. All is well. I’ve got ye.” He patted her neck repeatedly. Her loud whinnies softened into snuffles and snorts.

“Your Grace, we could all die in this storm!” the groom shouted as he jumped down from the cart and steadied the horse with his hands on the harness. “Why do we have to ride so far and so fast?”

“I’m needed at my brother’s estate, and I do not want to waste time,” Keith called back to them as he urged his horse forward. “We’ll get through the storm.”

He heard them talking among themselves, some muffled sounds that he couldn’t decipher because of the wind and the rain. Keith had a feeling he didn’t want to know what they were saying. He could hardly blame them for the mutinous glances they were sending his way.

He would have been furious to be ordered out in this weather. As it was, he was willing to bear the brunt of the weather today if it just allowed him to get as far away from London as possible. As far away from Celia as possible.

Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

He turned around on the horse and stared through the mist. He had an eerie feeling, as if Celia was about to ride through that mist and challenge him to a race. Knowing the way they both were, he wouldn’t have turned her down, even in this atrocious weather. He would have done anything just to see her smile and the challenging look in her eyes.

Aye, I won’t be seeing that smile for nine months now, at least.

Her last words brought a mad idea to him. He pictured going back to the house and walking through the door to see Celia sitting in a chair with a baby boy in her lap. He wanted to embrace that image, but then he shook himself. He couldn’t indulge in such thoughts.

But then his mind betrayed him. He saw Celia again in that chair, only she didn’t have a baby this time. Instead, sitting beside her in another chair was her lover—the lover she had taken in the nine months that Keith had been gone.

The horse bucked as Keith lost his focus. He was nearly thrown sideways. He tightened his grip on the reins and roared his fury.

She cannot take a lover!

Somehow, his roar calmed his steed. She dropped her hoofs down, and Keith patted her again as he looked around.

This time, he caught what the groom and footman were saying to each other.

“Love makes men do mad things,” the groom whispered.

“Apparently, running away from it does too.”

“Aye, all right—we’ll stop for the night,” Keith relented. “It is foolhardy to carry on.”

He steered his horse, intent on leaving this muddy path and taking refuge in the town. As he rode away, he didn’t look back at the cart, for their words were now echoing in his mind.

Is that what I feel for Celia? Not just infatuation, but… love?

---