Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

“Where’s Lady Celia?”

Keith tried not to respond as he sipped his coffee. Breakfast had passed without that question being asked, but now that half the day had passed, they could no longer go without someone asking it.

Keith kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, knowing that if he told the story, he would be confessing he had been in Celia’s chamber.

He didn’t think Celia would thank him for causing scandal whilst she was upstairs in bed.

“She’s… unwell,” Diana spoke up from across the table.

Keith raised his head, just enough to meet her gaze. She was a little pink but nevertheless pushed on. He had a feeling she was no fan of having every pair of eyes in the room on her.

“Last night after the ball, she went to the garden to take the air, and a snake bit her.”

“A snake?” Xander repeated in amazement.

“I went to see her this morning,” Violet cut in, laying a hand on his arm. “She’s doing better, though she is very frustrated that she has to stay in bed. She’d much rather be with us today.”

“Is she quite well?” Lady Arundel cried, waving her hands in front of her face in panic. “I know you said you were in need of a physician last night, Your Grace,” she said to Diana, “but I had no idea it was anything so serious.”

Diana looked at her husband beside her before she went on. She clearly took comfort in his presence. Keith saw something unspoken pass between them. She sat taller, a renewed look of confidence on her face as she spoke.

“She’s recovering,” Diana said, smiling a little.

She busied herself with her food, though when she glanced once again at Keith, he could have cursed under his breath.

If anyone in this dining room was of a particularly perceptive disposition, they would surely notice just how many times Diana had glanced at him. Just as Keith debated escaping the room, he grew aware that Diana’s repeated glances had indeed drawn someone’s attention to him.

The Duke of Berkley was glancing his way. Keith forced a smile, trying his best to look as innocent as possible before returning to his coffee.

The moment lunch was over, Keith acted.

He rose to his feet and found a footman at the corner of the room.

“Could ye prepare a tray of food for me, please? Perhaps a teapot too?”

“Did you not eat, Your Grace?” the footman asked in concern.

“It is not for me.”

Keith didn’t want to say anything more. He knew very well that the staff could talk. It was the same in his castle back in Scotland, when he was Laird. Rumors spread like wildfire.

“Very well.” The footman frowned but nodded all the same. “I shall bring it to the top of the stairs in half an hour?”

“Bring it to my chamber instead, please,” Keith requested, not wanting to be seen delivering a tray of food at the top of the stairs.

A short while later, Keith was pacing up and down outside of his chamber. Through the nearest window, he could see the rest of the party setting out on a walk to the nearest town. They made quite a group, meaning he and Celia were the only two left in the house.

“Here you go, Your Grace,” the footman declared, appearing behind him with a tray of food.

“Thank ye.”

Keith stood there, rather awkwardly, not walking anywhere as he took the tray from the footman. He wasn’t going to hint at where he intended to take the tray.

The footman took the hint. He blushed a little and bowed.

“I’ll leave you to it, Your Grace.” He bowed again and walked away rather promptly.

Keith stared down the passage, holding his breath. The moment he heard the footman’s footsteps on the staircase, he moved, walking from the gentlemen’s wing to the ladies’ wing.

He found Celia’s door and knocked lightly.

“I’m not exactly in a fit state to answer that door,” her voice came wryly from the other side.

“Aye, have it yer way,” he said, trying not to reveal too much of the humor in his voice as he opened the door wide and stepped in.

Celia sat bolt upright in the bed. Her dark red hair was wild about her shoulders, and she was only wearing a nightgown and dressing gown.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I wonder?” he drawled, holding up the tray as he shut the door.

“You can’t be in here.” She scrambled forward, nearly falling out of the bed as she swayed to the side abruptly.

“Woah—what was that?” He hastened to put down the tray on a nearby table and ran to her, taking her arm and pulling her back up into the bed.

“This is just what I need—you manhandling me into the bed.”

“Fine, then get yerself back into the bed.”

As he released her, she swayed to the side once again.

“Your Grace!” she snapped.

He chuckled, taking her arm once more and pulling her into the bed. He tried his best not to think of the thin material covering her arm. It was made of lace and silk, barely hiding her at all.

“Well, ye look happy.” He smiled and moved to pick up the table and drag it nearer.

“Would you be happy?” she scoffed. “I’m confined to my bed just because every time I stand up, I get dizzy. I feel fine, the pain is gone—I just wish I wasn’t so dizzy all the time.”

“How is the wound?” he asked, placing the table beside the bed.

He eyed the foot of the bed carefully, looking at where her leg was covered by the blankets.

“It doesn’t need to be checked if that’s what you were thinking of doing.”

“As ye wish.” He dragged forward a chair and placed it beside the bed, sitting down. “Here. I brought ye food.”

“Thank you.” She seemed a little surprised as she reached for the food. “I saw the party leaving through the window. You didn’t wish to go with them?”

“I had better things to do.” He held her gaze, showing her exactly what he meant.

“Come to distract me?” She smiled a little. “I rather like the idea. I’m bored.” She sighed heavily as she took a bite of bread. “How do you intend to distract me?”

“Don’t ask a man such an open question when he’s alone with ye in yer chamber, sweetheart.”

Her jaw ticked. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Well, that worked, didn’t it?” he said wryly, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms. “There was a moment last night when ye didn’t seem to mind me being a little…”

“Audacious?”

“I was going to say warm.” He smiled. “Besides, ye were the one who kissed me first.”

“That wasn’t being warm.” She blushed scarlet. “That was something more heated.” She dabbed at her neck distractedly as she finished the bread.

He chuckled, rather liking the way she described it. “I can distract ye by talking about such kisses if ye like?”

“No. We shan’t do that.”

“Ah, I see ye are intent on forgetting the fact that ye kissed me first.”

“You are insufferable.” She turned on the bed and reached for a carved box on the bedside table. She handed it to him. “Open it.”

“What is it?”

“Something we can do to pass the time.”

He opened the box, feeling rather surprised when he found a chess set inside.

“Chess?” He raised his eyebrows.

“If I must be confined to my bedchamber whilst the dizziness passes, then I might as well spend the time learning more about the mysterious Scottish Duke before me.” She wiggled her eyebrows rather mischievously.

Keith stiffened. He had little intention of revealing much of himself to Celia. What they had shared was indeed a thrill. He was getting to the point of finding his infatuation with her undeniable. After all, sitting close to her, when she was wearing so little, was making his trousers particularly uncomfortable. Yet, sharing something intimate with her? Secrets? No. He had no intention of doing such a thing.

He shifted the food tray to the side and opened the chess set, laying out the pieces.

“I’ll play chess with ye. That’s the only game I’ll play.”

“Come on, Your Grace. Would you deny a bored woman a little distraction?” She tilted her head to the side.

It was a great distraction, for a curl of her red hair was now teasing her neck.

He had an errant idea of following that curl with his lips, trailing hot kisses down the curve of her neck.

“A little distraction, perhaps,” he whispered, halting and looking at her with narrowed eyes.

She chuckled and reached toward the pieces.

“How about this?” she whispered, moving one of the pawns forward. “For every piece of yours I take, you must answer a question of mine, and you must answer it honestly.”

“Ah.” He grimaced at the idea.

“I get the impression you don’t tell many people your secrets,” she whispered as he reached for another pawn and pushed it forward. “Do we have a deal?”

“Perhaps.”

He may not like the idea, but as she leaned forward, her dressing gown slipped a little down her shoulder, revealing more of her cleavage. The swell of her breasts was such a temptation that he felt that large panther inside him purring once again.

“If we must play this game, then I shall at least make it to my advantage.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He lifted one of his pawns, about to take one of hers, when he hesitated.

“When I take one of your pieces, you must take off an item of clothing.”

“What?”

“Ye heard me, sweetheart.”

“Would you really take advantage of an ill person that way?” She waved her hands at her bedridden self.

“You just said that you weren’t ill, that you just felt a little dizzy. Besides…” He took her pawn. “I never said I’d play fair.”

She narrowed her eyes at the chessboard. “Fine.”

Her reply shocked him. A startled sound escaped his lips, then he chuckled deeply as he sat back in his chair, watching as she reached beneath the bed covers.

“Do not get too excited. It’s just a stocking.”

As she pulled the stocking out from beneath the covers, he shook his head. He hadn’t noticed she was wearing stockings earlier.

After a couple of moves, she removed one of his pawns from the board.

“My turn,” she said, smiling broadly. “Did you want to be a duke?”

“Straight for the jugular.” He shook his head, leaning back so far that his chair creaked. He lifted his feet and crossed them on the bottom of her bed.

“I never said I’d play fair either.” Her challenge made him smile again.

Ah, she gets under my skin.

He released a slow breath, his eyes roaming over that challenging expression. He longed to kiss her as he had done last night when they were outside on the terrace, but he held back.

He glanced down at her leg, hidden beneath the covers. There was some sort of weakness suddenly in his chest. He debated losing a piece to her, just so she would smile again.

“Come on, answer the question,” she urged with a click of her fingers, distracting him from his thoughts.

“As ye wish.” He folded his arms, staring down at the chessboard. “It was never my ambition. I was a laird, I had expected that. But I never expected to be a duke. Yet, my mother was overjoyed when I inherited the dukedom from her brother, as the next male heir. It meant returning to the England she loves. I could not deny her that.”

The challenging light in Celia’s eyes dimmed, her lips curling into a tender smile, but then the moment was gone. Once more, the challenge and fire were back in her eyes.

“There. My turn.” He moved a piece on the board. They adjusted a few more pieces before he took another of her pawns. “Now, another piece of clothing.”

When all she removed was the other stocking, he cast his eyes to the heavens pleadingly.

“You never stipulated I had to remove something bigger,” she said with a giggle.

“It was implicit.”

“Next time, make the rules of your game explicit.” She reached forward and took his bishop.

He blinked at the board. In his distraction, he hadn’t even noticed that his bishop was vulnerable.

“What was it like, being Laird?”

He stiffened again. “I didn’t know ye were going to ask something so personal.”

“We made no rules to our game, did we?” She tilted her head to the side. Her hair fell past her shoulders in the most delectable of ways.

He savored a sudden image of wrapping the red locks around his hand and running his fingers through them. Perhaps he’d tug on them playfully, not to hurt her, but just enough to increase the tension.

“So? What was it like?”

“Hard.” He shifted his gaze away from her hair to meet her eyes. “As a laird, ye are a warrior. As a duke, ye’re a fussy gentleman who has to worry about the temperature of his port. For both, ye have to take care of yer clan or yer tenants. That is the business I understand much more.”

“And you are a warrior? A trained fighter?”

“One question at a time, lass,” he reminded her.

“Damn,” she murmured, chewing on her lip. “You do keep your cards close to your chest.”

He stared at the board for a few seconds, determined this time to not slip and let her take anything so important as a bishop again. He was a competitive man, and he hoped to win both games they were playing.

He tried to hide his smile when he saw his opportunity. He took her queen’s side castle.

“There. I trust there are no more stockings beneath that bedding of yers?” he challenged.

She cast her eyes to the heavens, as if pleading for patience. Slowly, her fingers went for the tie of her dressing gown.

He sat back with his arms folded across his chest.

“You could look elsewhere, you know,” she whispered.

“I never made such a promise.” His gaze was fixed on what she was doing.

“A gentleman would look away…” she said leadingly.

“And I’m no gentleman, we discussed that.” His eyes flicked briefly to hers. “I’m a different sort of man.”

When a blush crept up her cheeks, he almost lost it. He’d been hoping for days to see her blush at his words, but she was so bold, it took a lot to take her by surprise.

As the tie of her dressing gown fell away, she pulled it down her shoulders.

The nightgown beneath barely covered anything at all. The lace was molded to her breasts, leaving little to the imagination when it came to her curves. He practically growled as he looked at her narrow waist.

She was the perfect shape for him, not too slim and thin like a stick, but womanly. It was hardly helping that the sleeves of her nightgown were just delicate straps, revealing her shoulders. She pulled up one of those straps rather self-consciously.

“My turn.” She moved her piece forward and took the pawn he had willingly sacrificed, though she clearly didn’t recognize his ploy. “There. So…” She looked up from the board. “Will you marry Lady Alicia?”

He blinked, having to work hard to remember who Lady Alicia was. Then, he remembered the pretty blonde lady he saw at the house party. It was the same woman Celia had mentioned the night before at the ball.

Marry her?

“You asked me to find you a bride. I did.” Celia sat forward. “Now, will you marry her?”

“That’s the question ye want to ask me?” he said with interest, reaching toward the bed.

“You haven’t answered yet. We can’t continue our game without you taking your turn.”

“I don’t see why not.” He took her other castle, much to her annoyance. “I don’t want to talk about other people right now.”

“Why not?”

“It’s yer turn, sweetheart.” He nodded toward the last thing she had on—her nightgown.

She sat forward, her hands gripping the bedcovers on her lap as she went beet red.

“You haven’t answered my question. I will hardly remove my nightgown without you answering it. Those are not the rules of our game.”

“But ye will remove yer nightgown if I answer it?” he said with a chuckle, rather liking this idea.

None of her curves would be hidden from him then, and unlike the night he had carried her out of the lake, the room was so bright, with daylight streaming through the windows, that he’d be able to see everything.

“It doesn’t matter who I marry, lass.”

“Why not? What else could possibly matter?” She stared at him, her green eyes wide.

“What matters…” He paused, watching as one of her hands lingered on the strap of her nightgown. The glimpse of her breasts and the challenge in her voice were enough to make him snap. “What matters is what I take.”