The Taste of Love

by Platt, Meara

  “Go away, lass,” he repeated. “Yer betrothed will no’ be pleased to find ye here with me.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I knew it. You were spying on me.”

  He groaned lightly. “I was merely gazing out the window when I saw you run into Wycke’s arms.”

  “That’s really why you’re scowling at me.” She shook her head and laughed. “Thaddius MacLauren, you are without a doubt the biggest fool who ever lived. I did not run into his arms and you know it. He pulled me into them. If you must know, he told me he was leaving tomorrow. He only embraced me to thank me for my hospitality and wish me well.”

  Instead of replying, he yelped as Dr. Carmichael touched his shoulder to check on the damage.

  Penelope cast him an accusatory look. “That hurt you, didn’t it?”

  He frowned back. “No.”

  “Fine, then you won’t mind if I press down on the same spot.”

  He jumped up, his towel fortunately still secure about his waist, although it had fallen a little lower and was hanging on his hips, if one wanted to be precise about it. Would she burn in the eternal fires of Hell if she wished for that towel to slide off his powerfully built, warrior body? “Loopy, enough of this nonsense. Get out.”

  She rose to stand beside him, trying her best not to breathe in the scent of sandalwood and his male heat. “Not until we strike a bargain.”

  Before Thad had a chance to accept or refuse, she turned to Greville. “Take all his clothes out of my bedchamber. He’s to remain in here for the rest of the day. Tomorrow if necessary, as well.”

  “Move a muscle, Greville, and I will shoot ye. I will no’ be treated like a child. Set out my clothes, if ye wish to be of help, for I’ll be joining everyone for supper.” He arched an eyebrow, obviously daring Penelope to contradict his intentions. “Tomorrow, my regiment plans to march through Wellesford, and I intend to be among their ranks.”

  She eyed him warily. “No one told me anything about this.”

  “Because it isn’t any of yer business, lass. It’s a parade to thank the citizens of Wellesford for their assistance. There’ll be pipers and drummers, and we’ll all be dressed in our clan tartans.” He cast her a wicked grin. “Ye would no’ wish to deprive the female population of me in my kilt, would ye?”

  She meant to be stern, but laughed instead. “Do as you wish, you stubborn Scot. You’ll do it anyway.”

  He emitted a hearty chuckle. “Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black.” But he took her hand when she raised it in surrender and began to turn away. “I’ll strike a bargain with ye, lass. I’ll march in the parade, but I want ye to march beside me. I’ll need something soft to break my fall should I stumble.”

  She could have shot back a smart retort, for he was obviously goading her. Yet he wanted her beside him, and this was his ridiculously backhanded way of asking her. She decided to be serious for a moment. “Thad, you know I’ll always look out for you.”

  “Aye,” he said with a tender ache to his rumbling brogue, “ye always have.” He kept hold of her hand. “Did ye mean it when ye said Wycke was merely bidding ye farewell?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, he isn’t staying?”

  “He and his family leave first thing in the morning.”

  He glanced at Greville and the doctor, then just shook his head and sighed. “Did ye give him an answer to his marriage proposal?”

  She shook her head. “No. He didn’t press me for one and we didn’t discuss it.” She glanced at the doctor and Greville who had to be listening intently even though they were turned away and trying to appear busy, the doctor by fumbling through his medical bag and Greville by fussing with Thad’s clothes. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow morning at the pond. We’re still meeting there, aren’t we?”

  “Aye, lass. I haven’t forgotten.”

  She slipped her hand out of his and left the room to go in search of Olivia and Poppy. They’d been friends for as long as she could remember, and she’d always discussed her innermost thoughts and fears with them.

  Now, she needed them more than ever.

  She wanted to accept Thad’s offer of marriage, but couldn’t bring herself to do it until she was certain of his motives for marrying her. Or was she setting an impossibly high standard for him to meet by holding out for utter, complete, and soul-searing love?

  She and Thad knew each other too well for their fiery heat, assuming he had any burning feelings for her, to turn to mere ashes. Their connections ran deep.

  But they also constantly goaded and prodded each other, often behaving like children. And yet, when it mattered, they looked out for each other. Did this not count for something?

  She hoped her friends would help her find the answer she sought.

  As she approached the regimental camp, she happened to see Poppy and Nathaniel sharing a quiet moment under one of the shade trees by the stream.

  She saw the way Nathaniel was looking at Poppy, the love reflected in his eyes as he gazed at her, seeming to soak all of her in. He took her hands in his and held them gently. He shifted his body toward her, as though pulled closer by an irresistible force. Poppy had a similar glow in her eyes, a reflection of the love she held for him. She eased closer, drawn to him by this same force that had drawn him toward her. It was as though the world had fallen away and no one else existed for these two.

  Having no wish to disturb them in their private moment, Penelope turned away to seek out Olivia. She saw her friend standing with Beast beside one of the tents. But as she approached, she realized Olivia and Beast were also sharing a moment.

  Suddenly, she felt like an intruder.

  But watching Beast, this fearsome and powerful duke, caress Olivia’s cheek with an open and tender look of longing, seemed to help her find the answers she sought. Not that she actually had her answers, but she now understood what to look for.

  Oh, she’d read The Book of Love, but hadn’t allowed herself to fully experience each sensation. Thad had kissed her, given her a first kiss she’d never forget. She’d called it a test and used him as her test frog, but she was through using him. It was time for her to trust him, to offer her heart to him. To finally be honest with herself and accept that as hard as it would be to leave her friends and family, it would be devastating never to see Thad again.

  And who else would she marry, if not Thad?

  She loved him to the depths of her soul and could not bring herself to allow any other man to touch her body. Not even Thomas Halford, Earl of Wycke, who was handsome and kind and would probably be a dutiful husband, but how could she ever share his bed when her thoughts would always be on that big Scot who’d saved her life?

  Her heart was still lodged in her throat just thinking of Thad in that towel and how badly she’d wanted it to slip off him.

  Goodness, she was depraved.

  That evening, while dressing in Lavinia’s quarters, and although Emily had earlier fetched the sea-blue, silk gown and matching slippers, gloves and undergarments, she’d planned to wear for tonight’s supper, she realized Emily had neglected to choose a necklace to go along with her attire.

  “I’ll be right back,” Penelope said once Emily had laced her into her gown. She’d waited for just the right moment to make her quick exit, knowing the girl was now occupied, attempting to clasp a pearl brooch onto Periwinkle’s collar.

  Of course, Periwinkle’s brooch matched the one Lavinia intended to wear this evening.

  Penelope adored her aunt, but her insistence on having Periwinkle’s collar match whichever necklace she happened to be wearing was a bit much, even for poor Periwinkle who did not look at all pleased.

  He barked and darted away every time Emily tried to clip his collar on him. “Oh, you’re such a bad boy,” Emily muttered in frustration.

  “Good boy,” Penelope whispered, encouraging him to misbehave.

  With Lavinia and Emily distracted, she slipped out the door and made her way down the hall
to her bedchamber. She wanted to simply walk in, but she hadn’t lost her mind completely, at least not yet.

  She knocked instead. “Thad, are you decent? May I come in?”

  No response.

  She knocked again. “Thad?”

  Perhaps he’d gone downstairs already, or so she convinced herself and opened the door since no one was lingering in the hallway to stop her. The shades in her bedchamber had not been drawn, allowing the last rays of sunlight to filter in and cast just enough light for her to make out the outline of Thad’s body in her bed.

  He was turned away from her, his weight settled on his good shoulder as he slept. The counterpane was twisted around his bare torso, covering his midsection and curling downward like a vine around Thad’s long legs. His upper body was exposed, and her heart ached to see the massive spread of black and blue, not to mention the torn flesh, across his injured shoulder.

  She forgot about retrieving her necklace, and instead, tiptoed to the other side of the bed for a glimpse of his face as he slept. Dr. Carmichael must have given him a hefty dose of laudanum to quell his pain, otherwise Thad would have been glaring at her and ordering her to go away.

  And because he was a thickheaded Scot, had he not been rendered unconscious, he would likely have insisted on dressing, determined to come down to supper even though he was in no shape to do it.

  Thankfully, he was sleeping soundly.

  She heard his soft breaths and saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

  Unable to help herself, she reached out to gently brush back a stray lock that had curled on his damp brow.

  “Are you developing a fever?” she whispered, frowning.

  She hadn’t put on her gloves, not needing them to merely enter her chamber and select a necklace. So, she ran her hand lightly along his neck and down his body, her fingers tingling as she brushed them along the light spray of auburn hair on his chest.

  Most Scots had pasty-white complexions and their skin burned easily in the sun. But Thad’s skin was lightly tanned. She ran her hand along his muscled arm and frowned. He was overly warm, and his skin was damp, not only his forehead, which was worrisome enough.

  She rose and crossed to her bureau to retrieve one of her handkerchiefs. She always kept a basin and ewer of water on her bureau, so she poured a little of the water onto her handkerchief and wrung out just enough moisture so as not to soak Thad when she wiped it across his brow and along his neck to cool him down.

  Sitting beside him once more, she leaned close to better dab his forehead. Then she wiped the wet handkerchief lightly along his neck. She leaned closer, for he still smelled clean from his earlier bath and the sandalwood scent drew her to him like a moth to a flame.

  Thad shifted slightly and his eyes flickered open. “Lass, am I dreaming? Is it really you?”

  “It’s me.”

  He emitted a sexy growl and nudged her down beside him. Before she had the chance to protest, he rolled over her, propping on his good elbow to ease the weight of his big body off her. “I must be dreaming. Ye look beautiful. Ye always do. I’m going to kiss you.”

  Once again, she had no chance to protest before he closed his mouth over hers, his lips warm and demanding. They felt rough and dry as they crushed against her mouth, but she knew it was the fault of the laudanum and not because of any lack in his magnificent kiss.

  She ought to have dabbed the moist handkerchief on his lips since the laudanum had obviously left them parched. She meant to ease out of his arms and attend to the task, but he deepened the kiss.

  Her body responded like kindling, for his touch, the sensation of his mouth on hers, the slide of his tongue along the seam of her lips, and the arousing weight of his body ignited a fire within her that she had no desire to douse.

  She doubted she could, even if she wanted to…which she decidedly did not.

  Yet, the proper part of her was telling her to get up off the bed at once before her reputation wound up in tatters. The proper part of her was telling her to remember the reason she’d come in here in the first place.

  Retrieve your necklace and leave.

  How could she when she was hardly able to move with his big body weighing her down? And what harm could there be? His eyes were glassy, and she suspected that he was sleeping… Perhaps a waking sleep induced by the massive dose of laudanum he’d been given.

  His hand drifted up to cup her breast.

  Sweet mercy!

  Who knew a big, calloused paw could feel so good?

  When she made no protest, he began to knead her breast, his touch fiery despite the layers of silk gown and linen corset between them. When she still made no protest – how could she when she’d forgotten how to speak – his touch grew bolder.

  Fireworks exploded inside her body as he stroked his thumb across–

  She really had to stop him, but… Oh my.

  More fireworks. He didn’t know what he was doing.

  Well, he did.

  His touch was exquisite.

  But he thought he was lost in a dream. Touching her breast in a dream. She ought to… What did she mean to say?

  Oh, yes. She ought to stop him. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him, but the words simply melted away.

  She moaned instead.

  She might have uttered, “Don’t stop,” or perhaps it was “Don’t ever stop, you big, handsome Scot,” and arched her back to better accommodate the position of his hand to her breast.

  No, she couldn’t have said something so absurd aloud.

  “Ye did, lass.” Which explained why he continued to run his thumb over its tautening bud, and then his mouth closed over the hard peak, suckling and nipping through the fabric. Oh, even sweeter mercy! She’d have to change out of her gown, of course. She couldn’t very well walk down to supper with a stain over her breast, a big, wet circle that looked like the bull’s eye on a target.

  Silk hid nothing.

  The slightest drop of water would cause a stain.

  “Loopy, is it really you? It canno’ be,” Thad said with a raspy groan that tore from the back of his throat. “Ye’re so soft and beautiful. My beautiful dream.”

  His mouth moved to her other breast, his lips closing over the peak of that mound. Twin targets. She felt the dampness of his flicking tongue seep through the fabric layers down to her skin.

  Oh, goodness.

  She meant to stop him. “Don’t stop,” she whispered instead, and wound her fingers in his hair as he continued to work his magic. Who was more depraved? Him or her? It had to be her, for he was an unconscious beast struggling to wake and believing she was only in his fantasies.

  She was a coward who wanted to know his touch, even if it meant making a fool of herself. Even if it meant sinking to this base level.

  She knew it was wrong, but never experiencing his touch was unbearable. She wouldn’t marry him unless he truly loved her. Laudanum-induced passion did not count. If not drugged, could he ever look at her the way Beast had looked at Olivia? Or the way her brother had looked at Poppy?

  She could accept no less from Thad.

  His hand trailed lower to find its way under her gown. At the same time, he kissed his way up to the little pulse that was wildly throbbing at the base of her neck. “Ye taste so good, lass, just like a–”

  “Don’t you dare say it!”

  “—sausage patty.”

  Even when dreaming, he could not stop thinking of food. Couldn’t he be a little more romantic? She slid out from under him and stumbled to her feet.

  She wanted to leave, but her hair was a mess, half the pins fallen out and probably sticking into the ribs of the big oaf sprawled atop her bed who now appeared to be passed out and snoring again.

  Only he wasn’t a big oaf.

  His touch had felt so good.

  His kisses still had her body in a hot tingle.

  Penelope stared down at herself and groaned.

  She was the oaf and the fool.

&n
bsp; Her gown was wet around her breasts, but since it laced up the back, she couldn’t reach the ties to undo them. She went to her armoire to grab another gown, perhaps a scarlet one to mark herself as a wanton, because had Thad not bothered to speak and merely concentrated on teasing her body into a passionate frenzy, she would not have stopped him.

  Thankfully, his comment had reminded her of what he truly thought of her. A side of pork. And that had tossed ice water on her hot, little body with sufficient force to cool it off.

  She stared at the gowns arranged neatly in her armoire and selected a delicate, tea-rose silk. Of course, she had only delicate colors, no vivid scarlets, since she was a sweet, young thing, and the palest hues were all that were deemed proper for sweet innocents to wear for more formal affairs.

  She was so busy staring at the gown she’d selected, she did not realize Thad had come up behind her.

  “Lass, ye’re real,” he said in a reverent whisper, stealing his arm around her waist and drawing her up against his overly warm body. Oh, she was going straight to hell. He was running a low fever.

  She’d taken advantage of a drugged, sick man.

  “Why are ye in here? What happened?”

  She set aside the new gown. Don’t be naked. Don’t be naked. And turned to face him.

  His eyes widened in surprise, for his gaze had shot to her chest and there was no mistaking what he’d been doing to her to create those stains.

  And she’d allowed it.

  But her own expression was one of relief, for he’d had the presence of mind to don his breeches.

  “Did I do that to ye, lass?” He ignored her shame and distress, casting her a tender grin. Indeed, the fiend was grinning from ear to ear. “No wonder I woke up with a mouthful of lint.”

  A fiery heat roared into her cheeks.

  “I’ll help ye into the new frock.”

  She shoved his hand away. “I don’t need your help. You’ve done quite enough. I’ll manage it myself.”

  “All those laces? And it took two of us to do ‘quite enough.’ Dinna turn prim on me, lass. Oooh, Thad. Ye big, sexy, Scottish devil. Don’t stop.” He turned her around so that her back faced him and then he kissed the nape of her neck.