Free Editor's Choice Volume I - Slow summer Kisses, Kilts & kraken, Negotiating point by Giordano Adrienne Spencer Pape Cindy Stacey Shannon

for school or the usual Grand Tour.”
    “No. I haven’t been farther than Mull since I was five years old. My mum took me to Skye once, to see her kin for a night. That was the farthest I’ve ever been.” He settled against the parapet and drew her hand more firmly into his, lacing their fingers together. It had been such a long time since he’d had someone he could talk to, other than Rannulf who felt as much guilt as he did. “Isobel was a schoolmate of Catherine, my cousin. Catherine brought her home for a visit one summer, along with a few other friends. She hoped that I’d be interested in one of the girls.”
    “And you were.”
    “Aye. Isobel was a good lass.” The memories hurt less than he’d expected, as if the mere act of telling the tale relegated it to the past, where it belonged. “I liked her a great deal. She was clever, you see. Quick witted and full of plans. Much of the modernization here was her idea. Half the time she could beat me at chess. Yet, in the end, being a baroness didn’t make up for the loneliness of being trapped here. Torkholm wasn’t enough. She’d decided to go to London for the Season, before she learned she was increasing.”
    “She was unhappy about the pregnancy.”
    “Aye and nay. She wanted children, or at least, she said she did. Just not quite then. ’Twas me who couldn’t wait. Planning for the bairn felt like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. I couldn’t wait to see if it was a boy or girl, fair or dark.” His desire had killed her, plain and simple.
    “You wanted a family of your own, to help make up for losing your parents so young.”
    “Another clever lass,” he grumbled. “But aye, I suppose that’s true.”
    “Let go of the guilt. It wasn’t your fault. I’ve seen such horrible things, even in my few years as a doctor. No one can ever fully predict the behavior of another. You couldn’t have known she’d take her own life, and the child’s along with her. It’s time to forgive yourself.”
    “See? Clever.” He pulled her more snugly against him, bending his head to brush his lips across her forehead. “Thank you for listening to my ramblings.”
    She reached up and touched a finger to his cheek. “You’re welcome.”
    He couldn’t help himself. He kissed her.
    Her lips were soft, but sure. One strong, slender arm came up to clutch his shoulder and hold him in place as she returned the caress.
    Her touch was a benediction—like the heavens giving him permission to move forward with his life. He drank her in, enjoying the soft press of her strong, lush curves against his chest. One hand tangled in her hair, the other dropped down to her backside, and pulled her even closer. She opened her lips and he swept his tongue inside, lost in sensation.
    A loud cough jolted him back down to earth. “They’re waiting for you at the table.”
    Magnus looked at Quentin’s disapproving scowl over Geneva’s shoulder. “We’ll be down in a moment. Go tell Cook we’re on our way.”
    “Aye, my lord. ” With a snapped salute, Magnus’s closest friend whirled and stormed inside.
    Magnus winced. “He won’t say a word. On my honor.” He bent to help Geneva pick up the hairpins he’d dislodged. Her wild mahogany curls danced in the breeze.
    “I’m not worried about it. I’m a bit too old to give a rip about my reputation.”
    “As old as that?” He caught a stray tress and handed over a pin at a time.
    “I’m eight-and-twenty, which puts me firmly on the shelf.” She managed to do a creditable job containing her hair, given the wind and lack of a mirror.
    “You’re still younger than me. I turned thirty last month.” He stroked her throat with one hand. “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry at all.”
    Her eyes gleamed up at him. “Neither am I.”
    Then he said the words that chipped away another piece of his soul. “Never worry, though. I won’t ask you to stay. I know you’ve a life out there in the