Page 32 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“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.”