Free The Last Heiress by Bertrice Small

gray eyes were serious as they gazed on her.
    “Oh, very well!” Elizabeth said impatiently. “But only one more kiss to prove my courage, and then no more,” she told him, turning and hurrying back to the house.

Chapter 3

    B ut after the evening meal had been served, Elizabeth slipped quietly from the hall and went to her bedchamber. She was certainly not going to engage in kissing games with her Scots visitor.
    He was a bold fellow. Too bold! And his lips on hers, even briefly, had been disturbing. Kissing, it would seem, was an intimate thing, and Elizabeth Meredith was not certain she was ready to share herself with a man. Well, you had better get used to the idea, the voice in her head said impatiently. No man is going to want a wife who doesn’t kiss and cuddle. She debated returning to the hall, but did not.
    Rising earlier than usual the next morning, Elizabeth dressed and hurried down to the hall. But for a few sleepy servants it was empty, but seeing their mistress the servants brought a trencher of hot oat cereal, placing it before her. A goblet of cider was poured. Elizabeth ate slowly, her mind busy with all she had to do today. She sliced cheese from the half-wheel on the table before her, placing it atop a thick, warm slice of bread that she had already buttered. The butter was melting and running down her fingers. She licked them. Finished, she went to sit by the fire for a few minutes before beginning her rounds.
    “Coward!”
    She jumped at the word whispered in her ear and, turning, found herself looking up at Baen MacColl. Then, before she might react, he kissed her lips, and she gasped with surprise. “Rogue!” she managed to say.
    “Soften your mouth, lass, and then kiss me back,” he replied, drawing her up and into the circle of his embrace. “You have lips that were made for kissing, Elizabeth Meredith, and I never could resist sweet lips.”
    His mouth descended on hers now with obvious and serious intent.
    The arms about her tightened. She felt herself relaxing against him, her mouth working against his.
    “That’s it, lass,” he encouraged her.
    What was she doing? She felt weak and drained of all energy. The pressure of lips on lips was intoxicating. She sighed, and then to her surprise he released her, gently settling her back into her chair again.
    “How dare you!” Elizabeth managed to say, and she felt a flush coloring her cheeks.
    Baen MacColl laughed softly, and knelt before her so he might look into her face. “Did you really hate it?” he asked her, taking her small hand in his big one.
    Looking into his gray eyes made her almost giddy. “Well, no, but . . .” Elizabeth began, desperately attempting to gain some measure of control over herself, for she had obviously lost all sense of pro-portion. The hand holding hers pulsed with warmth.
    “Then you enjoyed it,” he replied. The gray eyes twinkled wickedly.
    “You had no right to kiss me!” Elizabeth said indignantly. What else was there to say in defense of herself? To her mortification she had kissed him back.
    “No, I didn’t,” he answered calmly, “but I did.”
    “Do you always do just what you want?” she demanded. Her lips were tingling with the memory of his mouth on hers.
    “Nay, I don’t, but I found myself unable to resist you,” he said with absolute and ingenuous charm. “You are very beautiful, Elizabeth Meredith,” Baen told her, reaching up to caress the line of her jaw with the knuckle of his forefinger.
    “Was I better this time?” she queried him.
    “Much better,” he told her with a grin.
    “Good! Then we don’t have to kiss again,” she said in a firm tone.
    “Now I know how to kiss should the spirit move me to kiss, sir.”
    Standing up, he burst out laughing. “Do you think that is all there is to it?”
    “What more could there possibly be, sir?”
    “There is cuddling,” he murmured seductively.
    “Sit down at the board, and the servants will bring you your break