by Platt, Meara
“Oh, Thad,” she said in a breathy moan, running her thumb lightly over the spot to wipe away the small trickle of blood. Her wet chemise was dangling over her arm, so she took it and raised the gossamer fabric to his mouth to use it as a cloth. “I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?”
“No, Loopy. I’m fine.”
She shook her head and laughed. “I wish I could say the same for myself. But it’s all my fault, isn’t it? I trusted Pip to behave. I ought to have known better. Where is that devil-child anyway?”
“He ran inside the house.” Thad couldn’t resist brushing a stray, damp lock of her hair off her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.
She smiled at him. “You must be tired and hungry. How was the ride from Plymouth? Any news on your regiment?”
He tried to stifle his ache, but Loopy knew him better than anyone alive and sensed it immediately. “I’m so sorry, Thad. I know how weighing these weeks of delay have been on you. I’ll have Cook make up a batch of your favorite scones. They’ll be ready by the time you finish unpacking and wash up.”
“Thank ye, Loopy.”
A pink blush spread across her cheeks. “I don’t suppose I can ask you to forget what you saw just now.”
He nodded. “Of course. Done.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise, relief shining in those dark emerald orbs. “Really?”
Lord, how could a smart-mouthed girl still be so gullible? “No, lass. I will remember the wild tumble of your hair and the sight of your naked body into my dotage. It is burned into my brain. Once seen, it can never be unseen.”
Her blush deepened and spread to the tips of her ears and down her neck. “I was not naked. I had on my chemise.”
“Which covered absolutely nothing.”
She gasped, then looking quite pained, began to nibble her lip in obvious dismay. “Promise me you’ll never speak of it to anyone.”
“Aye, Loopy. That I can promise. Ye need have no fear o’ that.”
He brushed back another stray lock of her hair, for the wind had suddenly picked up and now carried a hint of cool air to signal the end of summer. Since she’d donned nothing but her gown and didn’t have a stitch beneath it, he could see she was responding to the sudden coolness. Goose bumps appeared on her arms. Her lips began to tremble when another gust surrounded them.
His gaze drifted lower.
Aye, the lass would put him into an early grave.
“Thank you, Thad.” She dabbed at his lips again. “I think the bleeding has stopped.”
But his ache hadn’t.
What was he going to do about this girl? She was Nathaniel’s sister and raised to be a consort to a prince or other elevated nobleman. He was just the laird of a small clan in the upper tip of the Highlands. His lands were as far away from the glittering London ballrooms as any rugged patch of hills and crags could be and still be considered a part of this sceptered isle.
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.”
She took a deep breath, but then blocked the doorway for a moment. 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.”
“N-O.”
“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 a hand to strike him on the shoulder, but he caught her fist in his own hand and then 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?
The Taste 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
Never Dare A Duke
Capturing The Heart Of A Cameron
THE BOOK OF LOVE SERIES
The Look of Love
The Touch of Love
The Taste of Love
De WOLFE “ANGELS” SERIES
Nobody’s Angel
Kiss An Angel
Bhrodi’s Angel
DARK GARDENS SERIES
Garden of Shadows
Garden of Light
Garden of Dragons
Garden of Destiny
THE BRAYDENS
A Match Made In Duty
Earl of Westcliff
PIRATES OF BRITANNIA
Pearls of Fire
About the Author
Meara Platt is a USA Today bestselling author and an award winning, 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 award winning paranormal romance Dark Gardens series. If you’d like to learn more about the ancient Fae prophecy that is about to unfold in the Dark Gardens series, as well as Meara’s lighthearted, international bestselling Regency romances in the Farthingale Series and The Braydens series, as well as the Book of Love series, please visit Meara’s website at www.mearaplatt.com.