Free Love With an Improper Stranger by Barbara Devlin Page B

china.  “But do not mistake her for a tomboy, as her deportment and manners are first rate.  Rather, my younger sibling possesses a keen intelligence and a sense of style all her own, and she refuses to bow to the latest trends.  How I love that about her.”
    “You speak as a proud mama.”  He caressed her knuckles, and she found comfort in his touch.  “Are you always so protective of her?”
    “Indeed, I am very proud of Lucilla.”  The gadling sampled a bit of something that evidently did not agree with her, as she scrunched her face, and Lenore laughed.  “But she views the world as nothing more than an endless store of learning opportunities, and everyone is a potential friend.  She does not recognize the dangers in our midst, and I fear for her sympathetic nature.”
    “What she needs is a husband to guard her.”  Of course, that was his answer to everything.  Blake flagged the waiter.  “Bring us an assortment of spiced rums.”  To Lenore, he asked, “Does a particular dessert appeal to your palate, my dear?”
    “I believe you mentioned a black forest cake that I would try.”  She averted her stare.  “But I really should forgo such extravagances, and you have done so much already.”
    “Bring us a single large slice and two forks.”  How had she known he would spoil her?  “Ah, and here comes Lucy.”
    “Did you find something new and wonderful to appraise?”  Thank goodness for the distraction, as Lenore needed it just then.  “Will you examine your fare, as you did that unfortunate mouse in Ghent?”
    “Sister, when I study, I study.”  Lucy dropped into her chair and draped her napkin over her lap with grace.  “When I eat sweets, I eat sweets.”
    “Sounds like a very wise strategy, Lucy.”  Blake shuffled the glasses and tempting treats, as the waiter delivered their order.  Then he peered at Lenore.  “All right.  I want you to take it easy, as each double-shot of rum is infused with a different fruit, and you might be tempted to forget you are consuming, in essence, fancy grog.”
    “Must you resort to that crude term?”  It seemed insulting to refer to such magical creations in the sailor’s coarse vernacular.  “I gather this one is the strawberry variety.”  She regarded the plump morsel listing in the bottom of the crystal and then sniffed the concoction.  “Oh, Blake.  This smells heavenly.”
    “Belay that, and take a bite.”  With a healthy piece of torte resting atop a fork, he teased her.  “Open wide.”
    It was strange having a man feed her, but Lenore did not object, especially when so many flavors danced on her tongue.  It was not as sweet as she had imagined, as chocolate mingled with a hint of espresso and fresh cherries, sandwiched between thick layers of whipped cream.
    And so began her ascent into fantasyland, where she devoured the decadent dessert amid intermittent gulps of rum spiced with oranges, vanilla, cherries, coconut, bananas, ginger, and mint.  As time passed, which she tracked on a nearby mantel clock, soothing warmth pervaded her flesh, and Lenore soon realized she had gobbled up the cake and downed most of the rum.
    “Is it a tad hot in here?”  Lenore fanned her face.  “Or am I catching a cold?”
    “It could be the kirschwasser in the black forest.”  Blake tucked a stray tendril behind her ear.  “And do you have a particular fondness for the rum?”
    “I adore the coconut.”  In that instant, she drained the glass and hiccuped.  “And what is kirschwasser ?”
    “It is a colorless brandy, typically ninety to one-hundred proof, distilled from the fermented juice of the black morello cherry.”  Then he signaled the waiter.  “Bring a bottle of the coconut rum, and have a case packaged and delivered to my ship, posthaste.”
    “Yes, sir.”  The attendant nodded.
    “Oh, I am so full, and I do not think I could eat another bite.”  Lucy rubbed her belly.  “But may I try the rum,