by Meara Platt
Sheep outnumbered men by the thousands.
Winter lasted almost nine months out of the year.
“Thad, are you coming in?” She was now poised at the door and eyeing him with concern.
He gave a curt nod. “Aye, lass.”
“But one more thing.” She took a deep breath, then blocked the doorway. He could have lifted her out of the way had he wished, for she was a little thing despite her big spirit that could bring a full-sized man to his knees. “I’ve made a decision.”
“Ye have?”
She shook her head. “One I don’t think you’ll like.”
He arched an eyebrow in expectation. “Just say it, Loopy.”
“I’ve decided to use you as my test frog, after all.” She tipped her chin up in the stubbornly defiant manner she always used when she was in the wrong but wanted to do what she wanted anyway.
“No. We discussed this before I left for Plymouth.” He frowned at her, his gaze steady in response to her penetrating stubbornness. “Ye will no’ be dissecting me. I will no’ change my mind about it, so save your breath.”
“It may be so, but I’ve given it considerable thought, and you’re the only man I can trust for these delicate experiments.”
“Spells.”
“What?”
“They’re spells or recipes or whatever else you wish to call them, but they are not experiments. There’s nothing scientific about attracting a man.”
“There is so, and The Book of Love proves it. So, it’s going to be you for my test frog. It has to be you.”
“And once again, the answer is no.”
She remained in the doorway, her arm across it to bar him from entering. “These experiments can be dangerous, as Olivia and Poppy have pointed out to me, and I won’t put myself in harm’s way with a stranger.”
“There’s a simple solution. Destroy the book.”
She stiffened her spine and cast him that stubborn look again, one he knew well from all the years of their acquaintance. “Are you mad? No. I will protect it with my life.”
He shrugged. “That’s your privilege, but I’ll have no part of it.”
“Of course you will. Meet me in the garden in an hour. I’ll have tea and your favorite scones set out for you.”
“No.”
“Raisin scones.”
“No.”
“Hot and fresh from the oven.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Have them sent up to my quarters.”
She mimicked his stance. “You’ll find them in the garden. Where I’ll be. With the book.”
He cast her a wicked grin. “Ye shouldn’t do that, Loopy.”
“Do what?”
“Fold your arms beneath your–”
“You big, dumb Scot!” She raised her hand to swat him on the shoulder, but he caught her hand in his own and lightly drew it toward his lips to kiss her knuckles. She cast him her fiercest frown as she wrenched her hand away. “In the garden. Or I’ll come after you with Cook’s rolling pin.”
He threw his hands up in surrender. “Ye would, too. Wouldn’t ye? Och, ye’re a bloodthirsty lass.”
She nodded. “So what’s it to be? Rolling pin to the head or hot, delicious raisin scones?”
He lifted her up by the waist and easily moved her out of the doorway so she no longer blocked his path. Her body was soft and warm. It took all the determination he could muster to release her. “Scones it is.”
But if he wanted to be honest with himself-which he didn’t-the only hot and delicious thing he desired was Loopy.
Would he have the strength to resist her?
He needed to get his hands on The Book of Love and find out how to defend himself against her experiments. Lord, help him!
What was she going to do to him?
Chapter Two
After seeking out Mrs. Plunkett, the Sherbourne cook, in the kitchen and requesting scones for Thad, Penelope hurried upstairs to her bedchamber to change her gown.
“M’lady, has something happened?” her maid asked, pausing in her task of airing out the sturdier gowns she would be needing with the onset of autumn.
“Yes.” She began to tell Emily all that had happened. “First, my cousin steals my clothes while we are swimming.”
“That imp!” Emily shook her head and sighed, the blonde curls peeking out from her mob cap, bobbing. She was slightly older than Penelope, a pretty girl with a plump, full figure that men obviously found attractive, because she had beaus by the buckets while Penelope had not a single one.
“He left me stranded in nothing but my wet chemise.” She held it up to Emily who quickly took it from her hand and set it aside for cleaning.
“Oh, goodness! So, you had to run back here without your clothes?”
“Well, no.” She glanced down at the gown she was wearing, albeit with nothing underneath. “As you can see, I did get my gown back.”
“Lucky thing!”
Emily was genuinely sweet and not very clever, but none of her young men seemed to mind. Penelope wasn’t certain what she did when she went ‘out’ with each beau, only that they kept coming back for more. “M’mum warned me never to go swimming with men. Young master Phillip is just a boy, but they start early, m’mum said.”
Penelope sighed. “Apparently, they do.”
“He’s a sweet lad when he wants to be. At least he returned your clothes and all is well now.”
“He did no such thing.”
Emily scratched her head as she regarded her. “But you’re wearing your gown. He must have given it back.”
“Laird Caithness returned it to me.”
“Lud! He’s here?” Emily’s eyes widened in delight and then she burst into giggles. “I wouldn’t have put my clothes back on for him. Oh, lud. Him I would have dragged into the water with me for a…swim.”
“Emily!” Despite having a sweet and sunny disposition, she also had an earthy nature when it came to men and pleasure.
“Sorry, m’lady.” She glanced down at her toes and stopped giggling. “I know it’s very different for ladies of your noble rank. So much as an innocent kiss might ruin you. To be honest, I’m glad I’m not you. I like kissing men.”
Penelope knew she ought to put an end to this inappropriate conversation, but she didn’t. “I’ve never kissed a man.”
“Never?” Emily’s gaze turned sharp and assessing, and she slowly grinned. “That big Scot would do it proper.”
Yes, and she was determined to have Thad kiss her. Not right away, of course. There were other tests to perform on him before she got to the more dangerous ones. But she did plan for him to give her a test kiss. How else was she to compare his to the ‘right’ kiss from a man she could love?
Thad was not that man.
How could he ever be the right husband for her?
He was raw and untamed. He teased her mercilessly. He was irreverent, impertinent, and arrogant. He would never be a biddable husband. Not that she wanted a doting milksop, but shouldn’t there be something other than the two of them constantly butting heads? Besides, his home was in Caithness. It may as well have been on the other side of the world; it was so isolated and foreign to her.
A young woman would have to love Thad to the depths of her soul to give up London and the lovely Cotswolds and all her friends and family to… What was she thinking? Thad would return to Caithness as soon as the ship transporting his regiment arrived in Plymouth. He’d ride off with his brothers, cousins, and others of his clan, and she’d likely never see him again.
The thought saddened her.
She wasn’t certain why, for they hadn’t seen each other in years until this summer. She’d known him when she was a little girl. He, Beast, and her brother, Nathaniel, had been schoolmates. Beast and Thad had often come to the Sherbourne home for holidays or casual visits, especially Thad, for he lived too far north to make it to his home and back in the few weeks between end of term and start of another.
; “But will he stop at just one kiss?” Emily asked, nudging her out of her musings. She began to giggle again, one of those knowing, naughty giggles.
“What?”
“Would you want him stop at just one? I would clutch that big body of his and–”
“Emily, enough!” Did the girl have no common sense? “I am not going to kiss him. Certainly not right away. Perhaps never. Most likely never.”
Her maid shrugged and began to rummage through Penelope’s wardrobe for proper undergarments and a new gown for her to wear. “What about this apricot dimity? It’s just the thing.”
Penelope nodded. “It’ll do nicely.”
The gown was more sophisticated than her day gowns, the neckline fashionably styled to accentuate her bodice. Modestly, of course. The London fashions were more daring, but here in the countryside, one did not walk around with one’s assets spilling out.
The aroma of raisin scones wafted into the hall as she descended the stairs and made her way to the garden. Soames, their ever-reliable butler, had set out cups and plates on one of the wrought iron tables under a shade tree and would soon wheel out the tea cart.
She was just about to sit down when she spotted her friends, Olivia and Poppy, walking toward her. “We’re going to Miss Billings’s bookshop for this week’s reading club,” Olivia said. “Care to join us?”
“I can’t. Thad is back.”
Poppy gasped. “He is? When did he return? More important, what are you going to do to him?”
“Nothing.” She reached for The Book of Love she’d brought down with her. “Well, something obviously. But this book is about love. I’m not putting him through the twelve labors of Hercules.”
“Go easy on him,” Poppy warned. “Nathaniel says he’s going through a difficult time now that he’s home and his regiment has been delayed over a month returning to England. And he’s received no lists yet. That cannot bode well.”
Olivia nodded. “Beast says the same. He’s worried about Thad. But perhaps these tests are just the distraction he needs. We’ll help you, of course.”
“Olivia is more of an expert than I am.” Poppy shook her head. “I don’t know what I did to your brother to make him fall in love with me. I’m just glad he did. And the best part… Well, one of the best parts,” she continued with a blush, “is that we are now sisters. And Olivia is our closest neighbor. We’ll always be together.”
Olivia cleared her throat. “Not if Penelope marries Thad. He’ll take her back to his home in the Highlands.”
“Which is why I have no intention of marrying him.” Penelope needed to put a stop to any matchmaking plans her own friends would hatch. “This is why he’s safe. I’ve decided to set my cap for the Earl of Wycke. He seems to be a very nice man. His mother and sister are lovely. His seat is within a day’s ride of Sherbourne Manor.”
Poppy nodded. “And he’s nice looking, too.”
“Yes, I suppose he is.” Penelope shook her head with more conviction. “He is.”
Olivia frowned. “Well, that was a rousing commendation of him. Does the mere look of him raise butterflies in your stomach? Curl your toes?”
Penelope stifled her frustration. “Not yet, but I intend to work on falling in love with him once we’re back in London. I’ll see how Thad responds to my various tests and then use the same ones on Wycke. Simple enough.”
Both of her friends looked doubtful, but they said no more as Thad appeared. They greeted him warmly and then marched off to Wellesford, whispering to each other and giggling as they hurried away.
“Where are they going?” Thad had washed and shaved, and changed out of his dust-stained travel clothes into finer garments. He now wore buff breeches, a white lawn shirt that enhanced the breadth of his chest, and a vest of deep, forest green that seemed to bring out the hazel-green of his eyes and the dark, chestnut red of his hair.
“Miss Billings has started a reading club. They’ve become members.”
“Ah. And you?”
He wore no cravat or jacket, which was typical of him not to conform to proper attire, but she couldn’t berate him for it. The air was warm and moist, and the breeze that had earlier felt cool upon her skin because her clothes were wet, now felt hot and made her fresh gown stick to her body. Autumn would soon be upon them, but it was still uncomfortably warm. Or was it Thad’s nearness that was kindling her insides? He looked awfully big and ruggedly handsome. How could one overlook his muscles when he refused to cover them up with a jacket?
“Me? I’ve joined the book club as well, but I’ll skip this meeting since you’re back and we have work to do.”
“Ye are doing nothing to me until I have my raisin scones.” He sank into the chair beside hers and stretched his long legs in front of him.
His boots were scuffed from wear, but she did not pass a comment. Nathaniel’s valet, Greville, would attend to it later. “Here they are now,” she said when Soames brought out a platter of divinely scented, piping-hot treats along with the tea cart. “A dozen for us to share.”
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “What makes ye think I’m sharing them?”
She laughed. “Very well, hoard them for all I care. My gowns are too snug anyway, what with all these weddings to celebrate and me testing every course of the festive food before it was set out.”
His expression turned wicked. “Snug looks good on you. No man will complain about that.” He nodded to the tome bound in faded red leather on the table beside her. “What does your book have to say on the subject?”
“Do you wish to start our work now?” She was pleasantly surprised, certain he’d give her endless trouble even about reading a mere page or two. “I thought you’d prefer to eat first.”
He leaned close. She tried not to grow giddy from his divine scent of musk and maleness. Oh, she’d read The Book of Love several times over and understood the importance of the five senses. Touch. Taste. Sight. Hearing. Scent.
Her senses were in a mad spin right now, trying to take all of him in. His look. Splendid, of course. He was big and hard-muscled, and had a handsome face. Not in any elegant, classical sense, but still strikingly appealing. His scent. It took all her resolve not to throw her arms around him and put her nose to his neck to breathe him in. Animals used scent to attract each other, and apparently civilized beings did as well. She doubted Thad was purposely using his scent to attract her, for she was the last woman on earth he wished to entice. He thought of her as a pesky gnat he could not swat away.
Still, she took a few more breaths of him.
Discreetly, of course.
“I can work and eat at the same time.” He frowned. “Or don’t ye think this big, dumb Scot can handle two tasks at once?”
She frowned back. “Don’t say that about yourself.” She cast him a sheepish grin. “Only I can say it about you. And you know I don’t really mean it. However, you are thick-headed and impossibly annoying at times.”
“Och, lass. So are ye,” he said in a soft, teasing way so that his brogue slid over her like warm honey. Oh, the sound of his voice! She’d always liked its deep, rumbling lilt.
She sighed. “I know. But you must admit, you purposely instigate. No one else riles me as efficiently as you do. You have only to cast me that look and I start squawking like a mad hen.”
He appeared surprised, even a little confused. “What look?”
“Any look,” she admitted. “Even a mere glance will set me off. There’s always a challenge in your eyes. We never simply engage in conversation. We spar like boxers in a match, each one trying to land a blow to the other.”
He frowned. “Loopy, how can ye think I’d ever hurt you?”
“Never intentionally. I know you love us all. Me, Olivia, and Poppy, as though we were your sisters.”
“I do, lass. Ye know I’d give my life to protect any of you.”
“I know.” She realized he had yet to touch a scone, so she lifted the platter to offer him one. He grabbed three, for
he could fit no more on his small plate. This is what she liked about him, the zeal with which he approached everything. Always grabbing the fistful, never holding back. But it was hard to keep up with him at times.
He took a big bite of his scone and moaned in pleasure. “I’d marry Mrs. Plunkett if she weren’t already taken. These taste like heaven.”
Penelope laughed. “Oh, Thad. Your secret is out. The way to your heart is through your stomach.”
“Aye, lass. I won’t deny it.” He polished off the first and started on another. “Food of the gods. That woman is a treasure. If your brother weren’t my best friend, I’d steal her from him without a moment’s remorse. My cook at Thurso is a wicked old viper by the name of Fiona. She boils the flavor out of everything. Ye can crack a tooth on one of her biscuits.”
“Oh, you poor boy. I can see how it has stunted your growth.”
He laughed. “Fortunately, my uncle sent me off to boarding school when I was a scrawny lad of six. Everyone complained about the meals, but compared to Fiona’s cooking, what came out of the school kitchens was, in my opinion, manna from heaven.”
Her heart gave a little tug, recalling what her brother had told her about Thad’s childhood. He’d never known his mother. She’d died giving birth to him. His father had died shortly afterward, leaving him and his older brother in the care of one of their prominent family members, the Earl of Caithness, a granduncle of theirs.
To her dismay, she realized she knew little else. He’d been the youngest, raised with his older cousins and an older half-brother, then sent off to boarding school. Only six years old at the time. Too young for a boy to be separated from his loved ones.
Pip, the little devil, was two years older than Thad had been when sent off. She couldn’t imagine Pip not being with them, not getting hugged or tucked in at bedtime.
What had Thad been like as a boy?
How could she have been so thoughtless, never asking about his early years or his family situation?
“Loopy, why are you staring at me?”