Mia Marlowe by Plaid Tidings Read Free Book Online Page A

been kissed.”
    Alex snorted. “Perhaps you don’t like men. ”
    A russet brow arched. “I like men fine. But I’m particular, ye ken. I’m no’ one to be had for a little light wooing.”
    His curiosity, along with other parts of him, was thoroughly piqued about what it might take to have her. “What’s the wager then?”
    “I’m fair peeved with ye now, milord, what with ye no’ wantin’ to wed me.” She leaned toward him. “I think it would take considerable skill on your part for ye to convince me to allow ye a kiss.”
    A smile tugged his lips. Nothing could be simpler. “What stakes will you wager?”
    “How about me brooch?” She fingered the ivory cameo at her left shoulder.
    “You rate yourself too cheaply. That’s not nearly enough for your first kiss.” He eyed her mouth and was reminded again of a ripe peach. He’d bet it was as sweet as one too. How had she gone unkissed this long?
    “What would ye consider a fair penalty should I lose then?” she asked.
    “Actually,” he said, an idea for finding her an alternate bridegroom taking root in his mind, “I’d hate to think we’ll be wed without you having anyone with which to compare me. If I win this little wager, I expect you to kiss two, no, three other men between now and our wedding day.”
    All he’d have to do was make sure she was caught kissing someone else by a busybody tongue-wagger and the ensuing scandal would break the engagement for him. Lucinda MacOwen would be shuffled off to the preacher with the other man she’d kissed quicker than she could say “Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
    Her lips quirked. “A most original penalty. I accept. And if I dinna allow ye to kiss me, what should ye forfeit?”
    “How about ownership of that prize Blackface ram?”
    “Done,” she said in a businesslike tone. “A princely wager, sir. Grand Champion Black Watch Farrell Loromer has been the making of the MacOwen herd. My father once turned down two hundred pounds for him. Now, after offering me such a rich inducement not to succumb, how do ye propose to convince me to allow ye a kiss?”
    Damn. He’d never considered that a sheep would be worth so much.
    “You’re thinking about this all wrong,” he said. “A kiss isn’t a prize for a man’s enjoyment only. A woman well-kissed is a thoroughly contented creature.”
    “Oh, aye?”
    “Aye, I mean, yes.” He was an Englishman, dammit. It shouldn’t be so easy for his Scottish roots to pop out. “A kiss is more than the mere touch of two pairs of lips. It’s sharing a breath. It’s holding each other’s souls.”
    Her lips parted softly. “Ye make it sound almost a sacrament.”
    “If it’s done right, it almost is.” He moved closer to her on the bench, one arm slung casually over the granite back.
    “And I suppose ye know how to do it right.”
    “So I’ve been told.” He leaned toward her.
    She leaned toward him too, till their faces were a hand’s breadth apart. Then she pulled back. “That’s still no’ enough for me to allow it.”
    “The question of who allows a kiss isn’t really relevant. Both parties have to want it, need it, for a kiss to be truly magical. There’s no allowing. A real kiss just happens.”
    “It catches a body unawares, then. Sort of like our betrothal, aye?”
    “Aye.” He didn’t correct himself this time. When in Scotland . . .
    He reached up to brush her cheek with his fingertips. She leaned, catlike, into his touch. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her lashes sooty crescents on her cheekbones. Alex thumbed her mouth and her jaw went slack, the warmth of her breath spilling onto his hand.
    To his surprise, he ached to kiss her with a need that almost burned. He bent his head to capture her lips, but she gave herself a little shake and broke the spell. She scooted to the farthest end of the bench. Then she slanted him a gaze that dared him to try again.
    “Magical kisses, ye say. Magic is for a child’s bedtime story, Lord