Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Celia’s kiss was like fire.

The moment she kissed him, Keith was a man unleashed, as if that purring panther nestled somewhere deep in his chest was now pouncing, determined to have her.

He wrapped his hands around her waist, splaying his fingers as far and as wide as he could possibly get them, to feel as much of her as he could. Her body curved against his, her breasts squished against his chest. Her hands were just as intoxicating as any whisky. She gripped his shoulders as if she couldn’t get enough of him, then as he kissed her, pushing the boundaries, parting her lips to take control, her hands slipped down to his biceps, her fingers gripping them hard.

He teased her tongue with his own. When he felt her nails dig harder into his arms, it was all he needed to push harder.

I am not a soft man when it comes to passion.

He backed her up fast. She collided with the wall, safe from any pain because of the arm he had wrapped around her waist. It gave him all the opportunity to press his body harder against her own, feeling her breasts against his chest.

He dominated her mouth, nipping her lips and pushing her as far as she could possibly take that kiss. She didn’t pull back, nor did she make any attempt to push him off her. In fact, her hands now trailed down his arms, gripping as much of him as she could reach.

I can’t stop.

She was too much to resist.

He took hold of her hips and ground against her. The way she gasped into the kiss showed just how much she loved that feeling too. He pulled back just an inch, only to feel her nipping his lip. He smiled into the kiss.

He liked a woman who could take control, but with Celia, at this moment, he wanted all the control.

He pressed her back against the wall, dominating the kiss. When her hands slid further down his arms, he took hold of them, shifting and clasping them with just one hand, then pinning them above her head, so her body was open to him. She gasped into their kiss but didn’t stop.

With her now so stretched, he could feel every part of her body. He could feel her hips brushing against his own as he sucked on her tongue.

Then there was a sound nearby. He halted, jerking his head back, though he didn’t release his grip on her wrists, nor did he step back from her.

I could take her, but then what?

She would not be his first lover. God, he wanted Celia more than he’d ever wanted any other woman in his life, but if someone was out in this garden, then it was certainly not the place to do it.

Also, Lady Celia, a lady of the ton, might not take kindly to the idea of a brutish Scottish lover, even if she was interested in rebelling enough to kiss him.

He released her hands and planted his palms against the wall on either side of her.

“We need to stop,” he whispered.

“We?”

“Ye started it,” he reminded her, his lips curling into a challenging smirk he could not hold back.

“You pressed me against the wall and…” She let her hands drop to her sides.

“Ye didn’t exactly protest.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and he couldn’t help smiling. She even gave the smallest of smiles, the color blooming on her cheeks bright enough to see in the dim light.

“There,” he whispered.

“What?” She lifted her head to meet his gaze.

“A blush.” He nodded at her. “I knew I had an effect on ye.”

“Arrogant man.”

“Intoxicating woman.”

Then that sound came again. They both jerked their heads away this time.

“If we’re seen, I’ll be ruined.”

“It could just be an animal,” he assured her. “I’m looking forward to our next lesson.”

Clearly, she’d had enough. She drove her hands abruptly into his chest, pushing him back.

“We shouldn’t have done that. It should not have happened.”

“Ye didn’t seem to mind a moment ago. Wait, Celia? Lass?” he called after her, but she wasn’t listening.

Rather than running back into the ballroom to avoid him, she sprinted off into the garden instead.

“Celia?” he barked after her, but she didn’t even hesitate.

With the skirt of her gown in her hands, she ran with all her might away from him.

Keith stared after her, turning to lean against the wall.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

He couldn’t regret it, though. This infatuation with Lady Celia would surely pass. Perhaps in the meantime, he just had to burn her out of his system.

He could return to the ball. He could try and please his mother, perhaps even talk to Lady Alicia and consider her as a bride, but he would rather dive into a bog than return to that room.

Instead, he stepped off the terrace and walked through the garden, choosing to return to the house a different way. If he had his way, it would not be the last that he saw of Celia tonight.

How can I let it end there? With one kiss?

He had tastedher once. He had to taste her again.

Celia cursed at herself as she flung her chamber door open and marched into her room, making sure to kick it shut behind her.

“What in God’s name did I just do?” she cried at the ceiling as if the heavens would somehow answer her.

“Ow,” she muttered a moment later, reaching down to rub her leg through her gown.

As she had run away from the Duke, her leg had caught in something in the garden. She thought her leg had grazed a stinging nettle or something, though it was a surprisingly strong pain.

She had hardly been looking where she was putting her feet. She had been too eager to run away from the Duke.

Not only had she been weak enough to kiss him first, but she had not wanted that kiss to end. Even though he dominated the kiss, dominated her, pinning her hands above her head, she did not want it to stop.

“Maybe he was right,” she muttered to herself. “Maybe he can make a woman want to obey.”

She cursed at the mere thought, continuing to pace up and down to occupy her thoughts. She didn’t know if she was trying to forget the pain in her leg or what had just happened.

The possessive way the Duke of Hardbridge had taken hold of her body had been a thrill. It had been even more than what she had imagined when she had heard tales of pleasure in the painter’s studio.

“You want to know what to expect, Celia?” the painter had asked her one night. He was working on a painting of a naked woman, who lay majestically on silken cloths a short distance away. Celia and her friend, Miriam, were sitting nearby, poring over his other paintings. “It’s a pleasure that overtakes your soul. It’s the most intense feeling of your life. One touch and you can be rendered… trapped in passion.”

“Ha!” She had laughed at the idea. “No man will have control over me with just the touch of his hand.”

“It depends where he puts that hand,” the painter had teased her and then told her all about exactly how a man could pleasure a woman with just his fingers.

Celia sat down on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide as an owl’s as she found herself imagining what it would be like to feel the Duke of Hardbridge’s fingers, to feel him pleasuring her and stroking inside her, touching her there.

“Celia? Are you in there?” The soft voice made Celia jump off the bed.

Once more, she limped, startled at the pain in her leg as she hastened to the door.

“Diana?” she called and opened the door.

Diana stood on the other side, smiling. “Do you fancy some company?” she asked, putting a hand on her stomach.

“Oh, Diana. Are you feeling unwell? Come in.”

Diana was in the early stages of her pregnancy, though only her husband and her closest friends knew. Celia ushered her inside and hurried to find something to drink for her.

“I hate being ill alone,” Diana sighed as she sat in a chair. “It was so hot in that ballroom too—I couldn’t bear it.”

“Yes, it is hot tonight.”

Celia pulled at the neckline of her gown. She had thought it was the Duke of Hardbridge’s touch that had made her so heated, but surely by now, she should have cooled down a little?

“Summer nights and all that,” she muttered, pouring two glasses of port.

She passed one to Diana, who took it delicately and had the smallest of sips. Celia could not settle, though. After all that had happened, she had to keep moving. She paced up and down, nursing her port as she thought of the Duke of Hardbridge.

It should not have happened. I have always told myself I won’t be seduced by a man, yet one touch and I’m weak enough to be kissed by him and not stop it!

“Are you all right?” Diana asked.

“What?”

“You’re limping.”

“Am I? Oh. Stinging nettles.”

“Do they have many of them in a ballroom?” Diana asked with a laugh.

“It was too hot. Like you, I needed some fresh air,” Celia hastily lied and walked over to her. “How are you feeling?”

“Nauseous. It seems to come and go throughout the day.” Diana shrugged. “I hope it will stop soon. I’m not yet showing, though.” She flattened her gown to her stomach. “Maybe soon I won’t have to tell people, and they’ll just know.”

“Maybe.” Celia placed a soft hand on Diana’s shoulder. “Are you excited?”

“You have no idea how much.” Diana giggled. “I can’t wait to meet this little one, to know what he or she is like.” She patted her stomach. “I’m so impatient to meet them. Wouldn’t you be?”

Celia hesitated. She had so long ago sworn off marriage that she had never even factored in the idea of having a baby of her own. She took a sip of port, delaying having to answer as she considered the idea.

She was utterly devoted to her nephew, Violet’s son. She loved him dearly, but could she imagine having a child of her own?

In her mind’s eye, she saw a little boy with a shock of dark red hair like her own. When she saw his grey eyes, she shook her head madly.

There is only one man I know with gray eyes. What is wrong with me?

“Have you not thought of children?” Diana asked, clearly reading her mind.

“Not really.” Celia shook her head. “I’ve never thought of marriage. I’m a matchmaker, aren’t I?” She forced a smile, rather relieved when Diana smiled too.

Celia knew her wish to never marry might not last. Her father was ill. It was one of the reasons her parents had decided not to join her on this trip. He preferred to stay at home. He might someday insist that Celia marry just so she was settled before he left this earth.

I cannot do it!

The determination broke through suddenly. She wouldn’t end up like her poor cousin, Charlotte. She would survive, she would defy any man that would leave her to suffer.

“It really is hot in here, isn’t it?” Celia said distractedly, pulling at her neckline again. “I think I need another.” She gestured to her glass. “Do you?”

“No, thank you.” Diana shook her head, for her glass was still full. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Completely fine.” Celia walked back across the room, aware that the pain in her leg was getting worse.

As she took hold of the carafe, she felt a little dizzy. She planted her palm on the table to steady herself.

This is not the aftermath of passion. This is something else.

“How hot is it in here?” Celia said, suddenly aware of the sweat running down her forehead. She put down her glass and tried to mop her brow with the back of her hand.

“It’s not so bad. It’s much cooler than the ballroom. Celia? Celia?” Diana’s voice became frantic. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Perhaps the heat is just getting to me.”

Celia tried to turn around. Perhaps she needed a seat. Yes, that would help with the dizziness. But as she reached for the nearest chair, she felt the world slip sideways.

“Celia!”

Diana must have run toward her, for Celia could feel Diana’s hand on her own as she tried to steady herself on her knees.

“It’s too hot,” Celia mumbled. “I…” She used her other hand to mop the back of her neck. It was as if she had been bathing—it was drenched in sweat. “Something’s wrong.”

“I could have told you that. Celia!” Diana urged. “Come, let’s get you to the bed. I’ll send for a physician at once.”

“Maybe that is a good idea.” Celia did her best to stand. Unable to do so on her own, Diana took the brunt of her weight. “You’re with child. Don’t carry me.”

“What else am I supposed to do!” Diana complained.

“I’ll be fine, I can make it there.” Celia stood straight but then regretted it at once. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just lie down on the floor.”

She took one step forward, and before she could even think of bending down and curling up on the rug, she felt everything slip away. Where she should have been able to see the bed and an array of candles, she only saw dark spots clouding her vision. Then everything went completely black.

“Celia!”

She was dimly aware of Diana shouting to her. There was also another voice. It was much deeper. The honeyed baritone was unmistakable, but she also knew it was impossible.

I’m imagining him, conjuring him up in my dreams now.

She could practically see his face coming toward hers as it had done outside, seconds before she had kissed him.

Damn you and your power over me, Your Grace.