The Taste of Love Read online

“Loopy, ye’re asking me to give opinions on matters I know very little about. My time hasn’t been spent in a London ballroom arranging trysts with unhappy, overly-perfumed women. Or sniffing every debutante paraded before me. I’ve been around men mostly. And the few women I’ve…met, they’re not fine ladies and certainly not the sort I would ever consider courting.”

  “I thought you had a sweetheart.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you said so.”

  He frowned. “Och, lass. I never said any such thing. What made you leap to that conclusion?”

  “Obviously, my mistake. But you’re of marriageable age, and…” Handsome as sin. “I’m sure the Earl of Caithness will be securing a wife for you upon your return.”

  His frown deepened. “He’ll be doing no such thing. I’ll choose for myself.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest…” She tamped down her inexplicable elation and returned her thoughts to the task at hand. She nibbled her lip, wondering how to get the right answers out of him. “Let’s try this again.” She tipped her head to give him access to her neck. “What scent am I wearing and what do you think about it?”

  He leaned close and inhaled. “Och, that’s nice. A hint of lavender.”

  She tried not to melt into a puddle as he began to trace his finger along the curve of her neck. Then he gently cupped the back of her head and slowly drew her toward him. His lips were so close…was he going to kiss her? She felt his warm breath caress her ear. It felt playfully seductive and ticklish. “What else, Thad?” she whispered, hardly able to speak.

  Please, kiss me.

  “Lavender, that’s your soap. But your natural scent is…” His lips grazed her neck when he inhaled once more. “Strawberries.”

  “Food? Seriously?”

  “Ye asked me, lass. And that’s what I’m telling ye.” He drew away, but only slightly. “As a little girl, yer scent was wild strawberries. That’s what ye reminded me of back then, an impertinent little strawberry growing wild among the hedgerows. Tart on the outside, but when ye bit into it, ye found something unexpectedly sweet.”

  Had he just given her a compliment?

  Penelope held her breath, for once not daring to speak. Thad was obviously in earnest, and though his words would not win accolades for poetic perfection, they captured her heart for their frank simplicity.

  He took another deep breath. His eyes were now closed and his lips remained temptingly close. Thank goodness, he could not see the effect he was having on her. “I don’t know, Loopy. Ye still have a little of the strawberry in ye. But now…ye also remind me of a sun-kissed lavender flower. That’s what ye are. Soft colors. Delicate petals. The prettiest bloom in an English garden.”

  Lavender also grew in Scotland, nourished by cool, mountain waters and gentle breezes. Surely, he was aware of that. So why not call her the prettiest bloom in a Scottish garden? Or any garden?

  Did they have gardens in Scotland?

  She didn’t know, because she’d never given it a thought until this moment.

  No matter. Thad was no fool. He’d mentioned English gardens on purpose, wanting to remind her she belonged in England and not with him.

  It pained her, but he was right. “So, lavender is a good scent for me.”

  He opened his eyes and studied her. His lips twitched upward in the hint of a smile. “Aye, lass.”

  She wanted to ask him what else, but this was Thad. He wasn’t a rake, didn’t consider women a game sport. Lavender and strawberries were all she’d get out of him.

  When he looked at her with those dark, gleaming eyes, and touched her with the rough pads of his fingers, it seemed enough.

  He shook his head and eased away. “What’s next?”

  He reached over to flip the pages to the next chapter, but she stopped him. “We’re still on scent. I haven’t had my turn yet.”

  “Ye’re thinking to sniff me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Be still my heart. I’m swept away by your romantic words.”

  “Fine, mock me if ye wish.” He gave a groaning chortle. “Why must we smell each other?”

  “Ugh, Thad! We aren’t rutting boars. Can you not phrase it more politely? The bond cannot be made if it only goes one way.”

  He tilted his head to give her access to his neck. “All right, give it a sniff. Be gentle with me. I’m delicate.”

  She smothered a laugh. While Thad had his elegant moments, mostly he was a plain-speaking, rough-around-the-edges Scot who would never be transformed into a gentleman. Nor did she wish him to be. She found his irreverent wit appealing.

  And despite his utter lack of poetic refinement, there was something quite romantic about his gruff cooperation.

  “Well, lass?”

  She placed her hands on his shoulder to balance herself as she leaned forward to breathe him in. Mercy. “Musk. Fresh lather from your shave. A hint of saddle leather.” She traced the line of his neck. “Your skin’s hot.”

  “I’m a Highlander. This Cotswolds heat isn’t for me.”

  Her heart skipped beats. Of course, why did it keep slipping her mind? He had no wish to stay in England. He wanted rugged mountains and icy lochs. Those were his natural scents, those of raw, rugged pine forests, their tree roots anchored to ancient mountains formed of earth and rock. He was also the cool waters of the Highland lochs that poured down from the mountains and stretched across the crags and hills toward the sea.

  “A musk deer and a lavender flower,” she murmured, wondering how those fit. Deer usually did not like lavender, considering the scent unpleasant. Did Thad feel the same?

  He seemed to understand what she was thinking. “Loopy, I’m merely wearing the scent. I’m not actually a musk deer.”

  “And I’m not a delicate flower? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Och, ye’re a stubborn lass. Dinna I just spend the better part of an hour complimenting you?”

  She laughed. “It wasn’t more than a minute or two, but yes. You were quite eloquent and I appreciate your helping me out. Thad, did the experiment really feel endless and suffocating to you?”

  “Endless? Yes. Suffocating? Perhaps, lass. I’m not good with expressing myself. Don’t know if any man is.” He glanced at the book. “And these pages are all about feelings. Men don’t like to talk of them, much less think of them. Most men would prefer to be kicked in the head by their horse.”

  She sighed.

  “And what’s this opening passage about? I still don’t understand it. A man’s sense receptacles. It sounds lewd. What the hell is that?”

  Despite posing the question, he did not give her time to respond before continuing. He began to recite the passage she’d already memorized since she’d read the book several times over. She’d read it to him earlier, but it had obviously stuck in his craw and not gone down well at all. “Love does not come from the heart but from the brain. It is the brain that sends signals throughout the body, telling you what to feel. Therefore, to stimulate a man’s arousal—”

  He looked up and scowled at her before reading on. “To stimulate a man’s arousal response, one must arouse his sense receptacles in a pleasing way. By touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing.” He snapped the book shut. “Loopy, every man is different. What works on one will not work on another. If it did, we’d all be fighting over the same woman and have killed each other already.”

  He tossed the book down onto the grass and rose.

  She grabbed the book and scurried to stand in front of him. “You’re not leaving.”

  “This is bollocks.”

  “You promised to be my test frog.” She was clutching the red, leather tome to her chest, worried that he would do something rash and toss it into the water. Were all men such idiots when it came to feelings? “We haven’t performed the most important experiment yet.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “What are you talking about?”

  Sh
e clutched the book tighter and took a deep breath. “The kiss.”

  “Wycke’s kiss?”

  He could be such a dolt at times. She wasn’t thinking of Wycke, hadn’t thought of him until Thad mentioned him just now. Yes, she’d raised his name as the object of her marital desires, but it was the big, handsome Scot in front of her who’d captured her attention.

  Always.

  This exercise was more about forgetting Thad and less about finding another man to fill her dreams. Not that Thad filled her dreams.

  Well, only lately.

  In truth, all the time now.

  She hoped it signified nothing. After all, she’d always thought of Thad. She considered him one of the Sherbourne family. She’d looked forward to seeing him when he came home with Nathaniel during their school recesses. And most holidays. She missed him when he did not join them. And worried about him whenever Nathaniel returned home alone. If Thad wasn’t with him, it meant he’d stayed behind at school.

  The thought of him walking alone up and down those long, empty halls used to make her cry.

  Those times, she would go out of her way to write to him and tell him about her holidays and how she hoped his had been jolly, too. She tried to sound cheerful and engaging, although she knew his holidays must have been terribly sad and lonely.

  Sometimes, she would include a drawing or silly article along with her letters. Once in a while, she would send a tin of raisin scones back to school with Nathaniel. But they were meant for Thad, and she’d had to extract a sacred promise from Nathaniel that he wouldn’t eat them.

  “Not thinking of Wycke,” she assured him.

  “Good.” He slipped the book out of her hands and set it aside. Then he took her by the hand, enveloping it in his big, rough paw, and led her toward the copse of trees by the water.

  She held back. “Why are you taking me there?”

  “So no one can see us. I’m not going to toss ye into the water, if that’s what has ye worried.”

  She wasn’t worried, just confused. She trusted Thad. “So no one can see us do what?”

  Was this it? His moment of revenge for knocking over his chair. “Thad, this is ridiculous. If you think to–”

  “I’m going to kiss ye, Loopy.”

  Her heart shot into her throat and her eyes popped wide. “What?”

  “Ye heard me. Isn’t that what ye were just talking about? We were getting to it next anyway. It’s the essence of this book, isn’t it? The sensations of love. The touch of love. I suppose a kiss is more the taste of love, because my mouth will be on yours and–”

  “A kiss? On the mouth?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Do ye want me to kiss ye or not?”

  “Of course, I do.” Perhaps she’d sounded a little too eager, the sharp intake of air giving her away. “For the experiment, of course. Even if every man is different, I’m still me and I have to figure out who is right for me.”

  He nodded. “I agree. That’s the entire point. And while I’m kissing ye, neither of us needs to be talking.”

  “Gad, you’re an oaf.” She rolled her eyes again.

  “I know, lass.” He caressed her cheek. “But I don’t mean to force ye. We can put it off, or never do it, if ye don’t wish to.”

  She liked the way his thumb was making a lazy swirl against her cheek. She liked standing beside him. Mostly, she liked the idea of kissing him…perhaps too well.

  Heavens, was he really going to do it? “I wish to, Thad.”

  He cast her a gentle smile. “Come along then. I don’t want anyone watching us. Or interrupting us while I give ye a proper first kiss.”

  Her knees felt as though they were about to buckle.

  Her bones began to melt.

  A proper kiss. Yes, this handsome Scot would know how to do it proper. Could she hold herself together long enough for him to complete the task? “What makes you think it’s my first?”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Isn’t it?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks and spread across her face to the tips of her ears. “Yes, but don’t you dare make fun of me about it.”

  His expression suddenly sobered, and he regarded her with a tenderness she’d rarely seen in him. “Nay, lass. I’m honored ye’ve allowed me to be yer first.”

  “It had to be you, Thad. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

  He nodded.

  “Will you give me a second kiss, too?”

  “I’m at yer service, lass. As many as ye wish.”

  *

  Lord, help him!

  Did all sense leave him every time this girl stood near him?

  As many kisses as she wished? What idiot would give such an answer? He doubted he could contain himself with one, but to offer her more? Och, if he allowed his low brain function to take over, he’d have her naked with him in the water, the two of them spawning like frenzied salmon.

  Of course, Nathaniel would shoot him.

  He’d load the weapon to be used against him and hand it to Nathaniel himself.

  He shouldn’t have taken her by the hand and offered to kiss her.

  Blessed saints! Her eyes were already closed and her face was tipped up in expectation of this monumental event.

  He took her into his arms and ran his thumb lightly across her lips to ease the tension in them, for they were tightly pursed. “Smile, lass. This won’t hurt.”

  “Thad…” She looked ready to cry.

  He was experienced and yet still scared. She had to be terrified.

  There was too much history between them for it not to mean something. For him, it was petty jealousy. She wanted Wycke.

  He wasn’t happy about it, but so be it.

  Wycke would offer for her, was there a doubt? Who wouldn’t fall in love with Loopy?

  He refused to consider what else Wycke might do to her once they were married.

  But Wycke was not getting her first kiss.

  That would be his to treasure.

  He cupped her face in his hands. Beautiful face. Face of an angel. He closed his eyes and kissed her gently. Well, he’d meant to be gentle, but he was swept up in a maelstrom of desire the moment his lips touched hers. He crushed his mouth to hers and wrapped his arms around her to draw her up against his body.

  She responded by sliding her arms around his neck and pressing herself closer.

  Lord, she’s soft.

  He felt the give of her breasts against the solid wall of his chest.

  “Thad…my heavens.” Her whispered moan undid him.

  He lifted her into his arms and deepened the kiss, pouring every memory, every yearning ache, every smile, into it. Every sweet moment of laughter. The fullness of his heart and the joy she gave him. All of him, into this one kiss.

  It should have meant little to him…a kiss as a favor to his friend’s sister. A kiss meant to be an experiment and nothing more. Mother in heaven. It meant everything to him. Penelope. This girl. There was no one like her.

  She had the spirit to kick the chair out from under him and the heart to show him more kindness and care than anyone alive.

  He didn’t want to give her up. She was his heart’s desire.

  How does an oaf like me win this girl?

  He wanted to be the one to guide her, to arouse her unexplored passion. He wanted to be the one to introduce her to sensations of love she’d never experienced before. He wanted to touch her and breathe her in. Strawberries and lavender. He felt a raw, savage need to know her in every sense, to cup her lush breasts and hold them in the fullness of his hands.

  To claim her body as only a husband should.

  He wanted to marry her.

  He wanted her forever.

  He felt the fire building inside of him and knew they’d reached a danger point. He had to draw away. End the kiss.

  But he couldn’t let go. It had nothing to do with the hot need to explore her body. Aye, he wished to do that. Not for a mere afternoon.

  He wanted a lifet
ime.

  This girl was in his soul.

  Sweat beaded across his forehead.

  His shirt was damp.

  He felt along Loopy’s body. Her gown was damp as well. From the heat of the day or his fiery torment? Or was she experiencing a fire of her own?

  Neither one of them would break off the kiss to ask. Neither one would let the other go. This was truly madness. In another moment, he’d strip her out of her gown and set her down on the soft, grassy earth to… Lord help him, he wanted to settle his big body over her and bury himself inside of her.

  Low brain function out of control.

  “Thad! Thad! You have a letter!” He recognized Pip’s high-pitched shouts piercing the fog of his desire.

  The boy continued to call his name, now louder as he drew closer.

  Thad groaned as he ended the kiss and stepped away from Loopy. “Och, lass. Let me help ye. I’ve made a mess of ye with my big, oafish hands.”

  She let him.

  The realization struck her as well. Her cheeks turned fiery. “I…”

  “It’s all right, lass. Neither of us was thinking, were we?” Her hair had come undone, the pins falling out as he’d plunged his fingers in her silken locks. The bodice of her gown was… “Let’s tuck… I dinna mean to… Yer lacing, let me. I can tie it faster.”

  “Thad! Thad!” Pip called again, now closer.

  Penelope put her hands to her hair and sighed in dismay the moment he’d righted the bodice of her gown. “He’ll notice I’m still a mess. My braid is undone. Where are my pins?” She fell to her knees and began to feel along the grass. “Here are three.” She hopped up and quickly drew her hair back and began to wrap it atop her head. “Help me, Thad. There isn’t time to redo the braid. I’ll just put it up. Stick the pins in. Quick!”

  He stuck them in the best he could, then without thinking, he kissed the exposed arch of her neck. “Mo cridhe,” he whispered.

  “It’s Celtic. What does it mean?”

  “Thad! Where are you?” Pip was upon them now.

  Thad stepped away from Loopy as the boy burst into the copse. He moved in front of her to give her another moment to put herself together. “Over here, lad. What is it?” He strode out from among the trees and led the boy toward the fallen log under the large oak.