Page 81 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“Then I shall have to entertain myself with my beaus until such a duke becomes available,” Eliza said cheerfully. “I don’t mind, you know. They’re great fun, and I’m in no danger of falling in love.”
Lady Northley groaned, a slim hand over her face, and Eliza winked at Isobel.
Leaving them to it, Isobel picked up her skirts and descended the stairs, finding Adrian in his study.
“Working when we are about to go to a ball?” she teased, leaning against the door.
He glanced up, then his gaze halted, passing over her dress, the silk clinging to her curves. It was not perhaps themostdaring she had seen, but it certainly made a statement.
Heat sparked in his eyes. “You are certainly convincing me there are better ways to spend my time,” he said and patted his leg.
“I can’t crease my dress,” she told him. “Ye’ll have to kiss me from afar.”
“I say hell to that.” He crossed the room in five quick strides and caught her face in his hands, kissing her with so much enthusiasm that she found herself wondering if there was time for him to push her skirts up and have his way with her.
But no—they needed to leave very soon.
“Adrian,” she gasped and pushed at his shoulders. “We cannae.”
“I assure you, I can be efficient.”
“What of Eliza and Lady Northley?”
He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her. “That is a surefire way to dim my ardor, wife of mine.”
“Good, because we have no time for it.”
“Cruel mistress.”
She laughed, half in awe that despite her nerves over seeing Lord Moreton again, she felt so airy and light. Happiness—she could hardly have credited it.
“When we return, you can have your way with me.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Aye,” she whispered as he trailed kisses to the follow of her neck and the diamond she wore there. “It’s a promise.”
“Then I’ll make sure you keep it.” He leaned back and reached down for her hand. “Now I suppose we should see what havoc my cousin is wreaking.”
“I think Lady Northley is on the brink of a heart attack.”
“Not a new sensation for her, don’t fear.”
“It must be difficult feeling so anxious all the time.”
“No doubt, but she indulges Eliza to the point of stupidity and then gets concerned at her wildness, so is it really so very surprising?” He rolled his eyes. “Eliza is a holy terror and I pity her husband.”
“Ye could say the same about me.”
“Iamyour husband, so I know precisely how much I should pity myself.”
“Which is no doubt a great deal,” she said, amused.
“No doubt.” He looked down at her with a lopsided smile, and Isobel wondered how she could ever have thought him cold. This man here, the one who teased her and loved her body with such thoroughness, could not be the same man who had all but turned her out of his house in a storm.
“What are you thinking?” He flicked her chin. “Your eyes are pensive.”
“I’m thinking that I like ye.”
