Free Landing a Laird by Jane Charles Page A

kissing her at all, whereas she had thought quite a lot about kissing him since the mishap in the parlor.  Before he took her home today, she would make sure they kissed.  In the meantime, she had a husband to find.
    “ Very well.”
    Moira sighed with relief and a bit of disappointment. If he were interested in making her his wife, he would not help her find the man who would take her away. Even if, by the slightest chance, there was a small interest, Ainsely wouldn’t pursue it. He lived in Yorkshire.  Given those facts, he was probably not at all that interested in kissing her again. And if that proved to be so, she would simply have to change his mind.
    Straightening, she scanned the crowd.  “If you would point out the eligible bachelors and the locations of their estates, it would be greatly appreciated.”
    The park was filled with bachelors, she soon learned. The phaeton didn’t move five feet without Ainsely rattling off a title or mister and location.  None of them were Scottish. Two were Irish, so if necessary she would give them some consideration. But how did her mother feel about Ireland?  She would have to ask. Of course, one must cross the sea to get there, which may be deterrent enough for her.
    Up ahead, the crowd grew thick.  Pippa sat in a landau with Lady Heathfield.  Her eyes were fixed on the sky.  Moira followed her line of vision and sucked in a breath.
    “ What is it?” The concern of Ainsely’s voice brought Moira out of her shock. She pointed to the sky.
    “ Who is that in the balloon?”
    “ One of my dearest friends, Georgianna Bexley-Smythe, and I believe she may have just landed herself in a pickle.”
    “ It doesn’t seem anyone has noticed but a few.”
    Moira glanced around. Ainsely was right.  Most of the park goers were turned, looking behind where they had come from.  Pippa did the same, and Moira followed her line of vision.  Was that St. Austell?  “What happened to him?”
    Ainsely glanced back. “I am sure I don’t want to know.”  He clicked the reins and maneuvered the phaeton around and away from the crowd.  Though curious as to what was occurring with Pippa and Georgie, Moira knew she would find out soon enough. She was too disheartened by not finding one Scot in the park to drum up enough interest.
    Of all the gentlemen they had passed, not one would make a good candidate and, the longer she sat next to Ainsely, the more she compared the others to him. It was enough to make a young woman want to cry.  Why was it so difficult to find the perfect husband?
    When she glanced about, they were deep in the park. Ainsely pulled the phaeton to a stop beneath the shade of a copse of trees.  There wasn’t another soul around.  They were all probably watching her friend’s ruination in the balloon, or waiting to see what St. Austell in his disheveled state was about.
    Ainsely turned to look at Moira, and she met his eyes.  Was something on his mind?
    Instead of saying a word, his hand came up, cupped the back of her head, and he brought his lips to hers.  She wouldn’t have to make him kiss her after all.
    She melted on contact.  His lips were strong, warm, and firm, and she attempted to kiss him in the same manner as he kissed her.  His other hand wound around her back, and he pulled her closer as his tongue traced the seam of her lips.  Moira would have pulled back from the shock, but he held her head in place.
    This surely wasn’t right. Kissing didn’t involve tongues, did it?  She pulled back slightly, which was about all she was allowed, and opened her mouth to ask when he swept in.  Her insides heated, and she had to clutch his shoulders to remain upright.  Dear heavens.  Who would have thought tongues had another purpose besides tasting food and talking?
    Her body tingled, and the binding around her chest became tighter than when Beatrice had tied it around her this morning, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Delicious warmth flowed