Page 11 of A Rogue in Twilight
“Lord Struan was concerned for me,” she added quickly.
“Ah,” Lady Rankin said, narrowing her eyes.
“If that is all,” Charlotte said impatiently. “That was no proper kiss at all from the king,” she complained to the others. “I expected something more memorable.”
“You cannot expect something romantical from King George,” Lucie reasoned.
“Struan!” Sir Philip came along behind the others, and peered through the rhododendron leaves. “And Miss MacArthur! What are you doing back there? Miss Sinclair, we fellows must make up the deficit for the ladies. Like so!” Leaning toward Charlotte, he kissed her quickly on the lips.
“Oh!” Charlotte swatted him with her fan, and giggled.
“And one for you, Lady Fiona.” Sir Philip said, and Fiona offered her cheek demurely, even as William bent toward Lucie, who dimpled and smiled as he kissed her cheek. Lady Rankin huffed indignantly but laughed when William kissed her cheek too.
Standing beside Miss MacArthur, wrapped in the sweet scent of flowers, James chuckled as others streamed into the room from the crowded corridor, many voicing the same complaint about the king’s kisses. More and more the young men and women flirted with fresh kisses, the women coyly pouting, themen obliging with a proper cheek kiss or a bolder kiss on the lips, all amid good-natured laughter.
“It seems no one is satisfied with the royal kiss,” Lady Rankin said.
“No Scottish women,” Charlotte said as Fiona and Lucie laughed.
“What of the Highland lass in our party?” Sir Philip asked. “Let me do the honors, since I am dressed in proper Highland fashion.” He came around the potted plants toward Elspeth MacArthur to give her a moist, smacking kiss on the lips. Grinning, pleased with himself, he stepped back.
James went still, seeing the girl’s awkward smile, and told himself not to take this silliness seriously. Elspeth MacArthur managed to laugh it off; so would he.
“Look,” Charlotte said, “the Countess of Argyll has accepted a kiss from the Earl of Huntly. And the Earl of Kintrie is kissing his wife—they are such a lovely couple! And Ellison Graham is over there—she is Lady Darrach now, just married, you know, to the very handsome Highlander with her.”
“The laird who provided Highland whisky for the king and was shown royal favor?” Sir Philip asked. “They say Glenbrae whisky will be in great demand now.”
“Oh, look, everyone is playing the kissing game now,” Lucie Graham said to the others as they moved off to watch the fun.
That left James alone with Miss MacArthur behind the screen of rhododendrons and roses. “Sorry,” he said curtly. “That was no proper kiss Sir Philip gave you.”
“No, but let him think so.” She shrugged. “I am no judge of kissing. Well, there was the draw-lad when I was a girl.”
“What in blazes is a draw-lad?” He felt unaccountably irritated.
“The boy who pulls the yarn on the big looms. We have large looms and hand-looms at Kilcrennan, and he helps. Butthose kisses were not proper either, I suppose. Look, they are all kissing now.” She laughed. Her eyes were large, silver, crinkled with amusement. “Did you want to play their kissing game? Miss Sinclair might expect it.”
“She might.” He made no move to pursue Charlotte, whose interest in him was more substantial than his in her.
“They are enjoying it.” Elspeth MacArthur tipped her head, watching the others laugh and exchange kisses. “What is a proper kiss, I wonder?”
He gazed down at the dark-haired Highland girl as an unusual urge welled in him—he wanted to see her smile. He wanted to enjoy this moment with her. Leaning toward her, he took her chin in his fingers.
“This.” He touched his lips to hers, astonishing himself.
The kiss was surprising too. Tender. Breathtaking and heartbreaking all at once, just for an instant, so that something spun inside him like a whirligig. A simple, proper kiss, and it took him like a storm. He drew back, felt her quivering hand on his forearm.
“Oh,” she gasped, and tilted her face upward as if for more. “That was lovely.”
“Aye,” he breathed, leaning closer. Her lips met his and his lingered, warm and firm over hers. He took her by the small of her waist through the yardage of silks and satin and pulled her closer. The big flowering plants shielded them from view as the girl grabbed his coat sleeve and made a soft, willing little sound in her throat.
He felt as if he had stepped off a cliff.
He drew her deep into his embrace and she sighed against his lips, pressed her body to his, the moment wildly enticing. Her sensed her soft moan as he slid his hand upward, his fingers skimming her shoulder. She caught her breath, and his body surged.
“Dear God.” He came to his senses and dropped his hands away. “I beg your pardon. That was thoughtless.”
“Oh! I—I rather liked that.” She stepped away. “Thank you, Lord Struan, for your—kindness today,” she said in a rush. “For the royal introduction, and the—the proper kiss. I should go.”
