The Pleasure of Your Kiss by Teresa Medeiros Read Free Book Online Page A

… well … insane.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. It must be the heat.” Drawing off his wide-brimmed hat, Ash mopped at his brow as Luca continued to eye him with uncharacteristic concern. They both knew Ash had never been prone to the sun-sickness that plagued so many Englishmen in this region.
    He jammed his hat back on his head. If his wayward thoughts kept drifting in such dangerous directions, he’d be less likely to kidnap the sultan than to plant a pistol ball between the man’s eyes.
    “Just what are we supposed to do with this fair maiden once we’ve rescued her?” Luca asked.
    “If all goes as planned,” Ash said grimly, silently praying that it would, “we’ll never even have to lay eyes on her. We’ll simply kidnap the sultan, then send a ransom note to his stronghold, agreeing to swap him for … for the girl.” In England his plan would have been considered barbaric, but Ash was familiar enough with the region to know it was one both the sultan and his court would respect. Such abductions and negotiations often occurred between the powerful potentates and tribal warlords who were constantly battling for supremacy in this area. “Once they agree to our demand, we’ll have her delivered to a place where my brother will be waiting to welcome her back into his loving arms.”
    Until he said the words aloud and heard the hint of a growl in his voice, Ash had been able to pretend Max was simply a client who had hired him to rescue a stranger. But now in his mind’s eye, Ash could see his brother’s hands stroking the silky softness of Clarinda’s skin, his brother’s lips brushing her cheek and murmuring all of the tender words Ash had been too proud—or too foolish—to say.
    The sun dimmed again and the past shimmered like a mirage before his eyes. Suddenly he wasn’t crouched behind a rock in the desert heat but standing beneath the spreading boughs of an old oak tree in the misty meadow where he had bid Clarinda farewell for the last time. When she had found out he was leaving, she had thrown a cloak over her nightgown and slipped out of her father’s house to intercept him. She had come running across the dewy grass, her feet bare and her fair hair streaming down her back like a child’s.
    She had stumbled to a halt in front of him, her big green eyes darkened with accusation, and blurted out the one question that had been haunting him from the moment he had decided to go. “How can you leave me?”
    He had stood there, holding his horse’s lead and steeling himself against the bitter reproach in her eyes. “You know very well why I’m going. Because I have nothing to offer you.”
    “That’s a lie!” she cried. “You have everything to offer me. Everything I could ever want!”
    He shook his head helplessly. “My ancestors have been piddling away the family fortune for generations. I haven’t a farthing to my name. And being the second son, I haven’t even a title to offer you.”
    “And I haven’t a drop of noble blood in my veins. Why I’m as common as Millie the milkmaid down at the village dairy!”
    Knowing he would regret it in the endless days—and nights—to come but unable to stop himself, he reached down to stroke the shimmering flax of her hair, marveling at its softness beneath his hand. “There is nothing common about you.” His palm glided over the downy curve of her cheek, the pad of his thumb skating dangerously near to her lips. “Once I’ve made my fortune, I’ll come back for you. I swear it.”
    A breathless laugh escaped her. “But don’t you see? There’s no need for you to make a fortune. I already have one! Papa’s shipping investments have made me one of the richest heiresses in all of England.”
    “All the more reason for your father to seek out a more suitable object for your affections and your hand in marriage if I don’t prove myself worthy.”
    She lifted her stubborn little chin to an angle he recognized only too well. “If Papa