Free Miranda by Susan Wiggs Page A

soft melody in her ear.
    â€œYou have a beautiful voice,” she said.
    He kept humming and drew her along the forecastle deck, neatly avoiding coils of rope, lashed-down barrels and the envious stares of the sailors. She followed his lead, letting his graceful maneuvering make up for her inexperience. Round and round they spun, the rich melody lilting in her ear until the rhythm finally penetrated her very bones. They moved as one, and she reveled in the way they seemed to fit together, in the light scrape of their feet on the wooden deck and the hiss of the ocean speeding past the hull.
    â€œThere is,” she murmured, “something magical about dancing. Why is that?”
    His hand moved in a circle on her back. “Well,” he said, stretching out his Scottish burr, “dancing involves two people, holding each other, moving in a rhythm both understand, their goal to stay together, for no reason other than sheer physical pleasure.” He smiled wickedly, and a shiver shot down her spine. “There is only one other circumstance in which all that is true.”
    She snatched her hand out of his. Hot color surged to her cheeks. “Ian!”
    He leaned against a tall spool of rope and watched her, clearly amused. “Aye, love?”
    â€œHave we...did we...”
    He threw back his head and laughed. “My dear, if you had forgotten that , I’d say there’s not much hope for us.” Seeing her unamused expression, he took both her hands in his. “Believe me, Miranda. To my eternal frustration, and through no choice of my own, we have never made love.”
    â€œWe were waiting, then.”
    â€œAye.”
    â€œFor marriage.”
    He hesitated. “Aye.”
    â€œMary Wollstonecraft didn’t believe in marriage on principle.”
    â€œShe may have a point.”
    Miranda found herself laughing again, feeling giddy.
    â€œYou’re an incredibly desirable creature, Miss Stonecypher,” Ian said.
    She wondered if he had any idea how entrancing he was. “Tell me more,” she said. “I feel that if I could remember even one moment, if I could just look back and know , then everything would come right.”
    â€œI dinna think it’s that easy.”
    â€œIndulge me,” she said. “Please.”
    â€œThe Orangery in Hyde Park,” he said.
    â€œShould that be significant to me?”
    â€œOh, aye.” He paused. “Your first kiss.”
    She felt her color deepen. “Surely a significant event if there ever was one.”
    â€œAnd you dinna remember it.”
    â€œNo.” She stared at his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œDon’t be.” He took her hand and led her toward the bow of the ship, where they stood in the cool evening shadows. Sails luffed in the wind, and the cry of a cormorant droned mournfully across the swells. “Actually, it’s rather an advantage.”
    She began to tingle inside. “An advantage?”
    â€œOh, aye. You can have your first kiss...all over again.”
    With a discreet movement he took off his gloves, dropping them on the deck at their feet.
    She felt faint, yet dizzily aware all at once. Nervously she licked her lips. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to do.”
    â€œWhat you’re doing now is just fine. For the moment.”
    â€œWhat am I doing?” she asked.
    â€œStanding there. Looking bonnier than heather in bloom.”
    He took a step closer. His hands drifted down the length of her arms, heating her skin. The pads of his thumbs found her racing pulse.
    â€œWas it like this...before?” she asked.
    â€œNay, love. This is better.” His hands traveled up and over her shoulders. His fingers threaded their way into her hair, sifting through the curls.
    â€œNow what?” she whispered.
    Though he did not smile, amusement glinted in his eyes. “Just keep your head tilted up. Aye, like that.” He bent