Page 81 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“Keith… we do not need a wedding night.”

“As it happens, I quite agree, lass.”

“Wait… you do?” she spluttered. Suddenly offended, even though it was what she was asking for, she folded her arms. “You do not want to consummate our marriage?”

“I was rather thinking what’s the point in waiting until the night?” He was already walking toward her.

“You mean—oh!” She had not been prepared for him to bend down. He abruptly pressed his shoulder against her hip and lifted her into the air. “What the hell do you think you are doing—Keith!”

“Ye’ll make the staff think all sorts of things if ye cry out like that, sweetheart.”

He laughed as she pounded her fists on the middle of his back, her head hanging down.

“Keith!” she snapped, pulling on the back of his waistcoat whilst he wrapped one arm around the back of her knees and marched out of the room with her. “Put me down.”

“It’s the easiest way to get ye somewhere more private without that long train getting in the way.”

She felt him throw it over his other arm.

When they reached the staircase, she looked around, wondering what the staff would think if they were seen like this, but there was no one to be seen. They must have already cleared away the tables and gone back below the stairs.

He carried her up the steps with remarkable ease as she continued to pull on the back of his waistcoat.

“Put me down.”

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

“Keith! Put me down!”

“Ye were the one who has just made a vow to obey me, lass. I do not remember doing the same to ye.”

“Argh! You are insufferable.”

“Yet, ye vowed to love me through all of that. Remember?”

“You are even more infuriating now that we are married,” she argued into his back as she kept on pulling at his waistcoat.

She had no idea where they were now. He had carried her off to some distant part of the house, and all she could make out were carpet runners and nice ornaments on tables.

“Where are we going?”

“Do ye need to ask?” he practically growled. “Maybe I can’t give ye much as a husband, but I can damn well give ye what ye want in this area.”

Something in her stomach fluttered excitedly. She stopped wriggling and just waited to see what would happen next.

He stopped walking. There was the sound of a door opening, and then they stepped into another room. Celia pressed her palms against his lower back, doing her best to look up and take in their surroundings.

It was a bedchamber, one that was richly decorated indeed. Every drape, every curtain, even the cloths hanging from the bed were russet red. It was an enticingly warm and dark room.

“Now, I’ll put ye down.”

She was suddenly flung off his shoulder. She yelped as she landed on the plush bed. Her head sank between the cushions, immediately blocking her view of Keith. She was busy pushing these cushions aside when she suddenly became aware of her shoes being pulled off.

“What are you…” she trailed off as she managed to sit up on the bed.

He was now reaching beneath her skirt. Quite tongue-tied, she just watched as he took hold of one of her stockings and pulled it down her leg. His fingers left a searing path in their wake.

He pulled the stocking off with a final flick of his wrist and then wound one end around his hand. The other, he wrapped around her wrist. She watched, not sure what happened to her insistence that they didn’t explore one another further. For some reason, now, such an insistence seemed rather ridiculous.