The Taste of Love Read online

  The Taste of Love

  Book of Love, Book Three

  Meara Platt

  Copyright © 2019 Myra Platt

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Design by Dar Albert

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author, Meara Platt

  The 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

  Dark Gardens Series

  Garden of Shadows

  Garden of Light

  Garden of Dragons

  Garden of Destiny

  The Farthingale Series

  If You Wished For Me (A Novella)

  *** Please visit Dragonblade’s website for a full list of books and authors. Sign up for Dragonblade’s blog for sneak peeks, interviews, and more: ***

  www.dragonbladepublishing.com

  Amazon

  To all who are romantic at heart

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author, Meara Platt

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Excerpt from The Look of Love

  Excerpt from The Touch of Love

  Excerpt from The Song of Love

  Also by Meara Platt

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Wellesford, England

  September 1815

  “Bollocks,” Thaddius MacLauren, Laird of Caithness, muttered the moment he spied young Phillip Sherbourne running from the lush, green copse of trees beside Sherbourne pond toward the manor house, his laughter so gleeful, it could only bode ill for his latest victim.

  Thad handed his mount to one of the waiting grooms and hurried to the entrance of the house in time to catch the boy at the door. “Pip, what’s in your hand?”

  It looked like a woman’s gown, and since the boy had just come from the direction of the pond, from the very spot where one went to undress before jumping in to swim naked in the water… “Och, lad. Ye didn’t. Is it Loopy’s?”

  A guilty look swept over Pip’s face. He tossed the white muslin dotted with embroidered pink flowers at Thad, and with a muttered “uh, oh” took off into the house.

  Thad stared at the soft fabric in his hands, exhaling a moan as his fingers began to tingle. Seems Penelope Sherbourne did not have to be in the gown for his body to respond. Just knowing it was hers, taking in her familiar wild strawberries scent was enough to get his heart pounding.

  He hadn’t seen Penelope since her brother’s wedding to Poppy Farthingale a fortnight ago, purposely avoiding her now that The Book of Love had come into her possession. She had yet to use a single ‘recipe’ out of this mysterious book on him, but it did not seem to matter. He already had the urge to mate with this fertile female as the author had described in explaining the science of a man’s brain.

  He needed to get his hands on the book, for he’d received warnings about it from his friends, Alexander Beastling and Nathaniel Sherbourne, and wanted to be prepared to combat whatever scheme Penelope was plotting to use on him.

  Alex was the Duke of Hartford and known as Beast to his friends. He had been taken down first by Penelope’s friend, Olivia Gosling. A fearsome Beast bested by a Little Goose. Nathaniel, the Earl of Welles, had fallen next and married Poppy Farthingale. Was it a coincidence that his two friends had lost their hearts to Penelope’s best friends?

  And now Penelope had possession of The Book of Love. What did it bode for him?

  He glanced up at the sun as it beat down on him from a cloudless, blue sky.

  Sherbourne Manor was usually a bustling hive of activity, but no one other than a few stable boys, a footman at the front door, and a gardener seemed to be about, for it was shortly after noontime, the hottest part of the day, and no one would be strolling about the grounds unless required, as these men were, for work.

  Sighing, he ran a hand raggedly across the nape of his neck and started toward the pond, the fabric still in his tingling hand and the summer sun beating down on his head. He strode down the path toward the copse of trees and the pond where Penelope was swimming in all her natural glory.

  He wasn’t going to delegate the chore of handing back her clothes to anyone but himself. The girl was too beautiful, and no man could be trusted. Other than him, of course.

  He wasn’t going to peek.

  Not that he was particularly honorable or a gentleman, and even though Loopy was the most maddening woman in existence who deserved an occasional set down, he was not about to humiliate her by ogling her in the altogether without her permission.

  He would look his fill if she ever allowed it, but that was never going to happen.

  To her, he was just a big, arrogant Scot with an irreverent attitude and a smart mouth. “Loopy,” he called out, stopping at the edge of the trees and overgrown hedges along the pond. “Don’t come out of the water.”

  “No, Thad!”

  He stepped into the copse, ducking under branches laden with green leaves and nudging aside honey-scented hedgerows. “Stay in the water. I’m going to place your gown on the branch of–”

  His heart burst, for there she stood at the very spot he’d warned her not to be, her auburn hair long and wet and curling about her breasts and hips. “Bollocks, I told ye–”

  Her banshee shriek almost ruptured his eardrums. “Don’t look! You big, Scottish oaf! I’m not…” She shrieked again and grabbed the gown out of his hands.

  He finished the sentence for her in his mind. Not dressed. I’m not dressed.

  “Mother in heaven!” She was practically naked except for the wet chemise she’d worn to swim that hid nothing from his view.

  Nothing.

  Not the rosy tips of her breasts.

  Not the ample roundness of those breasts. Nor the blessed curves of her exquisite body and her long, shapely legs.

  He closed his eyes and turned around, his mouth hitting a jutting tree branch in his haste to blindly step away. “Damn it, Loopy! I warned ye not to come out of the water.”

  “I was already out, you dolt. You marched in like an invading Hun and gave me no time to jump back in.”

  “Ye could have alerted me to that fact,” he muttered testily, for his heart was still in a rampant roar and he’d now cut his lip on the protruding branch.

  “I said No, Thad. Was that not enough of a clue?”

  “I thought ye were agreeing with me. As in, No, Thad. I will do as ye say for once in my blessed life and not come out of the water.” He put a finger on the spot of the cut and felt the warm ooze of blood. “Figures, I’m back less than five minutes and already bloodied because of you.”

  “You’re hurt?” He heard a momentary rustling, no doubt Loopy hastily tossing off her chemise and donning her gown before she came up to him, her manner now gentle because she was a soft-hearted Harpy and could not bear to see him hurt.

  He
opened his eyes and studied her as she began to fuss over him. This is why he could never dislike her no matter how much she vexed him. She thought of him as a big, dumb Scot. But he was her big, dumb Scot, and he’d never known kinder treatment from anyone whenever she sensed he needed it.

  “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, and 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 did not have a stitch on 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.”

  “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?