Page 100 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“I have a son about your age.” She gestured to him with an empty tankard. “I know a man’s moods well enough to know that when he’s staring into a glass so avidly, he ain’t all right, pet.”

He smiled rather sadly, amused by her words. “I will be all right, given time.”

“Ah, those are the words of a man who has made a decision and is already regretting it.” She put the empty tankards down on his table and sat opposite him, her bulbous chin in her hands.

“How can ye tell that?” Keith asked in alarm. “Ye read minds, Ma’am?”

“Only men’s.” She laughed. “That’s because one man’s mind is quite like another. Now, you…” She screwed up her face, clearly deep in thought. “You’ve made a decision you think is for the best, but you’re already drowning your sorrows in whisky, so your heart’s not in it, is it?”

Dismayed at how well this stranger could read him, Keith looked away. It was so late at night that the inn was nearly empty. Across the room was a table full of locals, where his footman and groom had joined them. Otherwise, the room was empty, apart from Keith and a few people who worked in the bar.

He’d ridden all day, determined to get as far away from London as possible. He hadn’t made as much progress as he would have liked, but the journey to Scotland was a long one and likely to take the whole week, at least. The farther from London he had ridden, the more his mood had darkened.

“You are too morose for this to be a matter of business,” the lady said thoughtfully, shaking her head. “No, this is an affair of the heart, isn’t it, pet?” She patted the spot above her heart.

Keith lifted his glass and was dismayed to find it was already empty. He put the empty glass back down on the table with a heavy thud.

“Now, now, I ain’t presuming to tell a gentleman such as yourself what to do, but would you forgive an older woman her musings for a minute?” she asked, pulling out a bottle of whisky she had tucked in the apron of her gown and topping up his glass.

He nodded as he thanked her for the drink.

“Pain of the heart never truly goes away,” she said softly. “It gets easier to deal with, but it’s like grief, you see? No one gets over it. We just learn how to live with it. How to mask it.” She smiled sadly and stood up, once more collecting the empty tankards. “Don’t live with a broken heart if you can avoid it, pet.”

She smiled at him affectionately once more and walked away, leaving him staring after her in surprise.

“What the hell just happened?” he murmured as he turned his attention back to his glass.

He tried not to think of what she had said. He even blocked out her words now that they kept coming back to him, as if she had printed the words on his mind with ink.

He dropped some coins onto the table to pay for the extra drink and then stood up from his seat. It was time to go to bed and forget this awful day, though he had a feeling that the empty bed would just bring back the memories of having woken up that morning with Celia in his arms.

Even now, he could remember her scent, the sweetness of the honeysuckle. He could remember too how soft her skin had been beneath his fingers as he ran his hands up and down her leg that morning, teasing her, waking her from her slumber, so he could take her one more time before he had to leave.

“You look lost in thought, Sir.”

“Listen, I—” Keith turned around, ready to tell the motherly lady that he didn’t need her prying into his life anymore. Only, it wasn’t the same woman.

Before him was a much younger lady, perhaps a year or two younger than Celia. She may have worked in the bar—though judging by just how revealing her gown was, with her breasts practically spilling out of the bodice, he presumed she had another thing she was peddling tonight.

“My name’s Sophie. And who might you be?”

Keith had no intention of answering her. She walked toward him so fast that he nearly tripped over the chair he had been sitting in. She reached for him and ran her fingers down his jacket.

“Lovely material.”

Then, her hand went for his chest. Acting on instinct, he backed away from her, putting the table between them.

“I’m married,” he warned her.

“No matter.” She followed him around the table. “Plenty of married men have still paid for a night with me.”

She offered what she probably thought was the most enticing of expressions, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Keith’s gut churned horribly. It was such a violent feeling that he felt bile rise in his throat.

Get away from me.

Suddenly, there was so much that was wrong about this situation. He should not be here without his wife, and he certainly should not be tolerating another woman flirting with him.

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