Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

K eith made his way up the stairs. He’d taken a detour through the gardens, making his way to the lake first as he recalled exactly how he had seen Celia for the first time.

He now wished the moonlight was brighter. Maybe with that extra light, he would have seen a little bit more, indulged in a fantasy he now longed to live.

I can have lovers. I’ve permitted myself that. Even if Celia would be a different kind of lover.

When he reached the top of the staircase, his feet betrayed him. Rather than going to the gentlemen’s wing, he went to the ladies’ wing instead.

He didn’t need to guess which one was Celia’s room. He knew, for he had asked a manservant earlier that day. When he reached the door, he halted outside of it, just staring at the wood for a minute.

I cannot go in there.

Yet, every fiber of his being burned to do exactly that. He longed to go in, to kiss her, to continue what they had started outside. Did it matter if his infatuation with her made their lovemaking that much more memorable? They didn’t necessarily have to be one-time lovers. He could easily imagine needing to spend more than one night with her.

Slowly, he raised his hand, but he didn’t knock. He hesitated, listening when he thought he heard a voice inside.

“Celia?” It was a woman’s voice inside the chamber.

She has company.

Keith cursed as he stepped back. He would not compromise Celia by knocking on her door when she had a friend in there with her. He didn’t need another reason for Celia to hate him after all the boundaries he had already crossed.

He cursed and walked away, deciding he would try again another day.

It will not be our last kiss. It cannot be.

He didn’t really look where he was going as he remembered the feel of her lips on his and how she was the one to start that kiss. Had there been no sound in the garden, the two of them might have gotten carried away. He might have pushed the rules all the more, perhaps lifted her skirt, shown her exactly all the ways he could make her want to obey him?—

“Celia!” the woman in the room shouted. It was accompanied by a heavy thud.

Keith spun around. Without hesitation, he sprinted back to the room and reached for the door, opening it wide.

“What in Heavens—” The Duchess of Rowley was kneeling beside Celia, who was lying on the floor. “Get out!” She pointed at the door. “You are a man, you cannot be in here.”

Keith didn’t answer for a second as he took in the sight before him.

Celia was completely unconscious. Her eyes were closed, her lips were slightly parted, and her chest rose and fell with quick breaths. Her face was scarlet red, and sweat was beading on her forehead.

“What’s happened?” Keith asked, striding further into the room.

“You can’t be in here!” the Duchess of Rowley cried again.

“As much as I appreciate yer protectiveness of yer friend, why the hell is Lady Celia on the floor?” Keith waved a hand at her. “I heard ye scream and came to investigate,” he added quickly, watching as she blinked madly, registering his words. “What has happened?”

“She… she said it was really hot. She was limping.”

“Limping?” Keith kicked the door shut behind him, not wanting anyone else to come upon him in Celia’s room. He dropped down to his knees beside her, placing his fingers on her neck.

“You shouldn’t touch her.” Diana waved her hands over Celia.

“Scandal doesn’t matter when lives are at stake, does it?” Keith challenged, hardly in a mood to be soft or gentle.

Diana started at his tone, but eventually, she nodded.

Keith kept his fingers on Celia’s neck, ignoring the feel of her soft skin. He was taking her pulse. “It’s fast. Her heart rate is too fast. What else happened?”

“She wouldn’t settle. She kept marching up and down, saying how hot it was. Then I think she was dizzy. She fell to her knees.” Diana pointed to a different spot in the room. “Then she just… collapsed. I couldn’t get her to the bed in time.”

“Aye, right. We need a physician to look at her. Ye said she was limping?”

“Her right leg.” Diana pointed at the leg.

Though Keith couldn’t see it from this angle, for it was hidden by Celia’s gown, a suspicion took root in his mind.

When Celia had run away from him in the garden, she had gone through long grass. There was a chance that something had been lurking there, something that had the capacity to cause an injury.

“She said she thought she had been stung by stinging nettles. She must have been outside.”

Keith leaned back, staring down at Celia as he noted again her red complexion.

“I fear I know what this is.” He leaned down. “Aye, step back a little.”

“What? What are you going to do to her?”

“She can hardly spend the night on the floor, can she, Duchess?”

“I’d feel more comfortable if you stopped touching her.”

“Would ye like to be the one to carry her to the bed?” Keith challenged.

The Duchess of Rowley blushed harder and then nodded reluctantly.

Keith reached down again and slipped his hands underneath Celia. It was not the first time he had lifted her, having done so that first night to carry her out of the water. She was light, easy to carry, but now her head lolled back, and she looked more… vulnerable.

He didn’t like it. He wanted Celia to be awake, vivacious, full of her usual boldness again.

Slowly, he laid her down on the bed. Diana fussed around them, tucking pillows behind Celia’s head and under her injured leg. Keith reached for her feet and slipped off her shoes.

“Just stop touching her,” Diana said in panic. “This is inappropriate enough as it is.”

“I won’t tell if ye won’t.”

Keith wondered what the Duchess would have made of the knowledge that he and Celia had been touching much more intimately just minutes ago outside on the terrace.

He busied himself with lighting a candle and placing it on the bedside table next to Celia. With the light bathing her face, he could see the sweat on her brow more clearly. He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and sat on the edge of the bed, using the handkerchief to mop her forehead.

“Oh, you do not listen, do you?” Diana said begrudgingly, her voice quiet as if she feared he would snap at her.

“Never,” he assured her.

He continued to dab at Celia’s forehead and then down her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, and she turned her head, her lips nearly brushing against the heel of his palm. He was rather glad Diana had moved away and not seen this action.

“Lass?” he whispered, for Celia’s ears only.

Her eyes shot open. “You again?” she said in alarm.

“Celia?” Diana cried and ran toward the bed.

Celia tried to sit up but nearly fell off the bed.

“Easy, lass. How about we take things slow?” Keith took hold of her shoulders and pushed her back down on the bed.

“What in God’s name are you doing in my room?”

“Moving you from the floor to the bed. I heard yer friend scream.”

“It was just a little scream,” Diana protested, as if she feared getting in trouble. “I told him he can’t be here.”

To Keith’s relief, however, Celia didn’t reiterate this plea. She sat back on the pillows, a little more upright, staring at him with wide eyes as her chest continued to rise and fall too fast.

We need to slow down her breathing.

“Lass, I need ye to listen to me now.”

“More orders?” she said, practically casting her eyes to the heavens.

“For yer own good. Can ye breathe more slowly? In through yer nose and out through yer mouth.”

Slowly, she did as he said, closing her eyes as she did so.

“There we are.” He moved his fingers to her wrist. She drew her hand away at first, but he took it fast, not giving her the chance to escape him for very long. “I need to feel…”

“Feel what?” she whispered.

“Yer heartbeat.”

She stilled, looking him in the eye as he took her pulse.

“That’s better.” He released her, then moved down the bed. “The Duchess said ye thought ye had been stung by a stinging nettle.” He reached for the skirt of her gown.

“No!” both Celia and Diana cried in unison.

“God’s blood, how does anyone look after one another in England if ye scream at each other any time someone tries to help?” he growled. “Ye do it, then.” He waved a hand at Diana.

She hastened forward and lifted Celia’s skirt, and Celia winced at the pain in her leg.

Keith stepped forward, peering over Diana’s shoulder and doing his best not to marvel at Celia’s legs. They were not twigs as some ladies’ legs. Far from it. They had been made strong by riding, and it was that strength and delicately arched muscle of her calf that made him think of running his fingers over her skin, then higher beneath her skirt.

Not now.

“Aye, it’s what I feared.” He nodded down at the wound.

“That’s no nettle sting,” Diana squeaked at the sight of the mark.

Evidently panicked, Celia sat bolt upright and looked down at her leg again. “What the devil is that?” she spat.

“You two are loose with your language tonight, aren’t you?” Diana said with a sigh.

Keith ignored her and examined the wound. The skin was puckered where the adder had bitten her. Around it, there was a deep red mark.

“A physician can give ye a tonic to reduce the swelling. Otherwise, it’s just a reaction to the snake bite.”

“Snake!?” Celia wriggled and sat up, reaching for her leg.

“Do not touch it.” He placed his hand over hers, stopping her from touching the wound. “There’s no point in scratching it and making it worse. Snake bites aren’t deadly around here.”

“How do you know that?” Celia asked, no longer moving, though her hand had turned up a little in his grasp.

“I am not an ordinary duke, remember?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m a man practically born on a battlefield. I know the outdoors. I know the beasts ye find out there. I know what they can do to a man.”

Celia didn’t argue with him. There was something in her expression he had not seen before, a little softness that made him want to lean down and kiss her. It would be a different kiss this time, something softer, to let her know that all would be well. Yet, he couldn’t kiss her when Diana was standing there, watching the two of them.

“Duchess.” He turned his head to face Diana. “Would ye fetch a physician and a maid, please? They will be needed.”

“What are you going to do?” Diana stood nervously at the foot of the bed.

“Ye can leave the door open.” Keith nodded toward the door. “Or lock it if ye would rather I am not seen in here. I’ve seen snake bites before. I think out of the two of us, I am the one who should remain here. Do ye not agree?”

Diana hesitated, wringing her hands.

“Diana?” Celia looked at her friend. “Please. I think I need the physician.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Diana stepped forward and clasped Celia’s hand briefly. “I’ll return quickly. Perhaps you should shut the door so no one sees you in here, Duke,” she addressed Keith.

He tried not to let the relief he felt at this show on his face. “Aye, as ye wish.”

Diana left swiftly.

Once they were alone, Keith returned to the bed and sat down beside Celia, his hand going straight to her leg.

“Just because she’s gone, it is not an excuse to touch me.”

“I’m seeing how far the inflammation has reached. Trust me, sweetheart.”

“With you sitting on my bed, this is really not the time for you to call me that.” Celia covered her face with her hands as he chuckled deeply.

“I pictured my first time sitting on yer bed quite differently, I will admit.” He trailed his fingers down her leg, though it was not flirtatious. It was so he could examine the wound properly. “It looks controlled. Ye may have stepped on the adder as ye ran and he fought back in fear.”

“Fear? Look what that thing did to me!” Celia dropped her hands from her face and waved madly at the wound. “Are you sure snake bites can’t kill?”

“Well, what are yer symptoms?” He released her leg and leaned toward her. “Heated? Dizzy? Sweaty?”

“All of them.”

“They could be from something else, couldn’t they, lass?” He bent toward her, his lips hovering over hers.

“Don’t you dare.” She frowned at him.

“Have no fear, sweetheart.” He winked and sat straight again. “Ye were the one who started that last kiss, so I’ll wait for ye to kiss me next time.”

“You are hoping rather ridiculously that there will be a next time,” she huffed, trying to sit more upright.

The dizziness must have overtaken her, for she swiftly slumped back down on the pillows.

Keith moved up the bed. Something in his gut twisted when he saw just how uncomfortable she was.

“Rest,” he pleaded, adjusting the pillow for her.

She sank down more fully, sighing, though she scratched her head, irritated. He reached for the pins in her hair and started to pull them out.

“Your Grace, you don’t need to do that…”

Yet, he was already nearly done. He was hardly going to tell her that he’d been imagining for some time what it would feel like to run his fingers through those red locks. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her that he enjoyed a very particular dream he had where he made love to her with those tresses wrapped around his hands, urging her to arch her back in the most perfect of ways.

“It will make ye comfortable.” He dropped the pins on the bedside table and then returned with his handkerchief to mop her brow.

“Thank you.”

Her words and tone startled him. It was much quieter than usual.

“No need to thank me.”

Without thinking, he bent down. He didn’t capture her lips, for he had promised not to. Instead, he kissed her forehead. He held that kiss for longer than he should have, then sat upright again and returned to mopping her brow with the handkerchief.

“See?” she whispered, her eyes fluttering open a little. “You can be a gentleman.”

“Not for long, sweetheart. I certainly can’t remain a gentleman around ye.”