by Platt, Meara
She smiled. “Do you wish to know why you cannot stop yourself from looking?”
He considered insisting that he wasn’t looking, but his eyes betrayed him. “Yes, kindly enlighten me.”
He ran a hand raggedly through his hair.
Blessed saints.
What had he just gotten himself into?
“First of all, the book says that all men look at a woman’s…attributes first when making a determination of her worthiness as a mating partner.”
Should they be having this conversation? She did not know him. For all she knew, he could be a depraved fiend. But she was talking to him as though they were in a laboratory and had just conducted a scientific experiment.
She did not see him as a man but as her test frog.
“My gowns tend to be modest, so you cannot see all you wish to see. Because of this, your eyes are compelled to fill in whatever it is that is hidden from your view. You cannot help but continue looking until your eyes are satisfied. It is your base instinct taking over. This is what the book claims.”
He stared at her, his mouth agape. It wasn’t his eyes he was worried about, but the lower part of his anatomy that seemed to have developed a mind of its own. “What do you call this book?”
“The Book of Love.” She blushed. “I know it is forward of me. I cannot imagine why I would ever hold such a conversation with you. But there is something quite trustworthy about you.”
He leaned in closer, his manner as severe as he could manage. Mercy, again. He was making a fool of himself over this beauty and responding with heat to the sweet timbre of her voice. “Now see here, Tallulah. You are going to get yourself ruined if you speak to men this way when you are in London.”
She frowned at him. “My name is June. Juniper, actually. Have you forgotten already?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten.” He could never forget this exquisite girl. “I am trying to subtly make a point.”
“And that is?”
“Do not trust men. Ever. We are not eunuchs. We will respond to the sight of a beautiful young woman. Given the opportunity, those less disciplined males among us will behave badly. Quite badly.” He glanced at the young men now stumbling out of the taproom.
A few of them noticed June.
Damn it.
He did not like the way they were ogling her.
She was paying no attention to them and still going on about that stupid book. “This is what the author says, as well.”
“June, we are going to walk upstairs now. I want you to take hold of my arm and not let go of it until we have reached the landing.”
She frowned. “Why? Do you want me to show you the book? Or do you think I am an utter nodcock and will foolishly follow you into your bedchamber? I assure you, that will never happen.”
He rose as the young men brazenly approached. “June, get behind me now.”
“Ain’t she a pretty morsel. Keeping her all to yourself, mate?”
She finally realized what was happening and scampered to his side. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry. I did not realize…”
He wanted her to run upstairs but saw that one of the men was blocking the staircase.
He’d spent the past five years on the Continent working alongside Lord Castlereagh, handling all manner of sensitive diplomatic missions, and on occasion, flexing Britain’s military muscle as commander of his elite cavalry regiment, the Royal Scots Greys.
His assignment required tact, intelligence, and a quick wit, for he was often up against the greatest minds in Europe. He had handled his mission effortlessly, moving in the highest circles of society, often a guest of the most powerful royal families. His name had been tied to exquisite, sophisticated women, some of them princesses.
To now be taken down by a wide-eyed innocent from the Devonshire town of Barnstaple was simply unacceptable. It would never happen.
It could never happen.
Nor was he going to let these three drunken arses get the better of him.
As soon as she was securely behind him, he turned to the one who appeared to be their leader. It was a simple tactic, take down the leader, and the minions will flee. “That is my wife you are leering at. Take yourselves off before I toss you out of here.”
Odd how easily the reference to June as his wife tripped off his tongue. But he gave it no more thought as the first young buck attempted to take a swing at him.
He easily parried, twisting the oaf’s arm and shoving him back at his friend who was standing by the staircase, purposely hoping to anger him and draw him away from it so that June could make her escape up the steps.
Where was the innkeeper? His own men had retired early, and he was loath to wake them now. Besides, he could handle these three drunks.
They came at him all at once, one of them picking up a chair and managing to hit him over the head with it while he made quick work of the man’s two companions. But the chair leg had caught him in the face, splitting his lip and momentarily stunning him.
He managed to subdue the last man with a quick slam of his fist to his jaw.
The others were now back on their feet, but before he could get to them, June grabbed a fire iron and swung it hard at the back of one man’s knees. He flailed and fell hard to the floor. She turned and jabbed the iron into the other man’s privates.
Oh, lord!
Even he felt a sympathetic ache to his bollocks as the man yelped and fell even harder than his companion had.
The innkeeper and his sons finally heard the commotion and hurried to his aid. “General MacLauren! Are you all right? My apologies! Georgie, send for the magistrate.”
“Aye, I’ll go right away,” one of the young men standing beside him said.
The innkeeper’s eyes e rounded in alarm as he turned back to Augustus. “Do you need a doctor?”
“No, I’ll be all right in a moment.” His head was now pounding, and he was seeing double. But his gaze came sharply back into focus when he felt June’s soft hands suddenly on him, and her body pressed to his as she tucked her shoulder under his arm to hold him steady.
“Why did you not tell me those louts were behind me all this time?”
“I preferred not to alarm you.”
“Nasty fellows. I wish you had told me. I am not a porcelain doll. I could have helped you fight them off sooner. Oh, that first blackguard landed a nasty blow to your face. What a dirty fighter, to hit you with a chair. Do you think you are seriously hurt?”
“No.” He did not mean to growl at her, but it irritated him that she’d bested these men without so much as getting winded.
She smiled at him. “I heard you tell them I was your wife. That was wonderfully protective of you. And yet, they still came after you. They are despicable.”
He set aside his wounded pride and caressed her cheek. “As long as you are all right.”
She let out a shaky breath. “I am. But please let me help you upstairs. Where is your room? I’ll walk you there and see you safely settled. Your lip is swelling. It’s also cut and bleeding slightly.”
He glanced up to see two young faces still peering down at him.
“Those are my younger sisters, Willow and Camellia. We call her Cammy. Let me help you into bed.”
He moaned. “You will do no such thing.”
“You are a stubborn Scott, aren’t you?”
“Where is your chaperone?”
“Our Aunt Charlotte retired early. Travel does not agree with her. We are not keen on it either. We were quite happy at home. Have you ever been to Barnstaple? It is a lovely town. But our parents are determined to have us make brilliant matches, apparently something we cannot do there. So, we’ve been shipped to London to accomplish the task.”
He held on to the stair post as he climbed, irritated that June was helping him and even more irritated that he seemed in need of her help. “What sort of man do you hope to snare?”
“General MacLauren! I am not a hunter out to trap an innocent rabbit. I
don’t wish to snare anyone. What I hope to do is find love. Which I doubt will happen if those oafs are representative of the crop of London bachelors. I don’t suppose you will be—”
“I’m riding north to Scotland.”
“Oh.” She motioned for her sisters to open his door.
Augustus growled to chase them away. They quickly backed off but remained in the hall, peering in as June led him to his bed and nudged him onto it. “You are a cantankerous fellow, aren’t you? Sit there and don’t move.”
She bustled to the ewer and basin on the bureau, grabbed the cloth set out beside the ewer, and poured water on it. She returned to his side and began to gently dab his lip. “As soon as Mr. Ashcott comes up here, I’ll ask him for some brandy to apply to your injury. You have a nasty cut, and it needs to be more thoroughly cleansed.”
“I’ll take care of it myself.”
“Why will you not let me help you? May I not return the favor? You saved me from those awful men.”
“No, you may not return the favor. What you had better do is leave my bedchamber immediately.”
She leaned closer, determined to tend to him. “Your door is wide open. My sisters are just outside of it. Well, they were just outside. They’re probably looking at what’s going on downstairs. They’ll return in a moment. So why must I leave?”
“Because I am in danger of kissing you.”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t. You’re a gentleman.”
“Aye,” he said, “but I’m still going to kiss you if you insist on staying.”
She gasped. “Are you suggesting you are attracted to me? That my bosom ploy worked? This is fascinating, don’t you think? How long will you be here? May I…oh, I suppose you and your men will be riding out first thing in the morning. Well, if you change your mind, would you—”
“No, I will not be your test frog. And stop smiling at me in that soft way.”
“How else should I smile at you?”
“Are you not paying attention? You should not be smiling at me at all. You should not be touching me. Nor should you be alone with me in my chamber.”
“Because you are in a low brain frenzy to kiss me?”
“A what?”
Her breath held, and she stared at him with her big, blue eyes. “Are you irresistibly and compellingly attracted to me?”
“Stop spouting that damn book.”
“You are very handsome, you know. And I rather like the idea of experiencing my first kiss with a Scottish army general.”
“Damn it,” he grumbled, “your first?”
She nodded, holding the damp cloth to the cut on his lip. “Others have tried, of course. But I think I am a hopeless romantic. I wanted it to be special. A kiss that I shall dream on for the rest of my life.”
He’d bedded princesses, countesses, courtesans, all of whom were experienced in the art of pleasuring a man. They had indeed pleasured him in every physical way possible.
But none of them had ever given his heart pleasure.
He stared at June.
Spectacular June.
It wasn’t merely her looks that had him in a heated frenzy, it was her charming, and yet incredibly irritating, innocence. “And you’ve chosen me? A stranger?”
Her smile faded. “You’re right, of course. What was I thinking? We don’t know the first thing about each other. And yet…I cannot explain it. There’s a little voice inside of me that is telling me it must be you. Truly, I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”
“Wait.” He drew her down onto his lap and lightly wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her closer. “I never said I wouldn’t do it.”
He waited to the count of five, expecting her protest. He would release her, of course, if she demanded it. When she didn’t, he cupped a finger under her chin, lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her. Thoroughly. Properly…or improperly, it depended on how one looked at it.
His lip hurt.
He didn’t care.
He was surprised by how lovely her mouth felt against his.
And then Spectacular June did the unthinkable.
She kissed him back with innocent ardor and…
What was the name of that book she’d been spouting? The Book of Love? He had to get his hands on it.
There was no way on this green earth…not a chance that…Spectacular June/Tallulah could not possibly…no, she could not…and certainly not with a first kiss…
She could not have stolen his heart.
Could she?
The Promise of Love coming soon – please subscribe to www.dragonbladepublishing.com for updates
Also by Meara Platt
FARTHINGALE SERIES
My Fair Lily
The Duke I’m Going To Marry
Rules For Reforming A Rake
A Midsummer’s Kiss
The Viscount’s Rose
Earl Of Hearts
If You Wished For Me
Never Dare A Duke
Capturing The Heart Of A Cameron
BOOK OF LOVE SERIES
The Look of Love
The Touch of Love
The Taste of Love
The Song of Love
The Scent of Love
The Kiss of Love
The Chance of Love
The Gift of Love
The Heart of Love
The Hope of Love (novella)
The Dream of Love (novella)
DARK GARDENS SERIES
Garden of Shadows
Garden of Light
Garden of Dragons
Garden of Destiny
Garden of Angels
THE BRAYDENS
A Match Made In Duty
Earl of Westcliff
Fortune’s Dragon
Earl of Kinross
Earl of Alnwick
Pearls of Fire*
(*also in Pirates of Britannia series)
Aislin
Gennalyn
DeWOLFE PACK ANGELS SERIES
Nobody’s Angel
Kiss An Angel
Bhrodi’s Angel
About the Author
Meara Platt is an award winning, USA TODAY bestselling author and an Amazon UK All-Star. Her favorite place in all the world is England’s Lake District, which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that idyllic landscape, including her paranormal romance Dark Gardens series. Learn more about the Dark Gardens and Meara’s lighthearted and humorous Regency romances in her Farthingale series and Book of Love series, or her warmhearted Regency romances in her Braydens series by visiting her website at www.mearaplatt.com.