Annabelle's Courtship by Lucy Monroe Page A

the ladies’ retiring room. Why?”
    “You weren’t in the retiring room all this time.” He looked intently into her eyes. “I canna see you meeting a lover either.” He sounded perplexed.
    Offended, she glared at him. “Why not? Let me guess. I am too ordinary to attract a lover.”
    His smile fueled her anger. Placing his hand on her back, he steered her toward the doors leading to the garden. “Dinna be ridiculous.”

    She tugged at her arm. He could take some more appealing female into the garden.
    Someone who could attract a lover. He refused to let her go, however.
    They passed another couple and Ian nodded his head in greeting. Annabelle seethed silently until they were out of earshot. “Where are you taking me?”
    “The garden.”
    She had guessed that much. She renewed her efforts to get free. “I must return to my aunt.”
    “You look breathless. Do you want Lady Beauford to wonder as I do what you have been up to?”
    She gave him a mutinous frown, but stopped trying to get away. Explaining herself to Aunt Griselda did not appeal, nor did having others overhear her arguing with the stubborn Scotsman. For she had no doubt they were about to have another argument. A man could not accuse a lady of being too unappealing to attract a lover and get away with it.
    Walking into the night air, the fragrance of spring blossoms assailed her. The perfect night for lovers. The thought did nothing to soothe her irritation. Ian led her to a stone bench and pulled her down to sit beside him. He forced her to meet his eyes. “What is it, lass?”
    “Lady Annabelle.”
    “Very well. What ails you, Lady Annabelle ?” She didn’t speak for a moment, but toyed with her fan. Finally words came out in a rush. “You don’t believe I could have a lover. In the park you said you were interested in me, but now you make it clear that you think I’m as boring as a biscuit made without sugar.”
    He tipped her chin up. “I didna say that.”
    “You said I wouldn’t have been meeting with a lover. It’s the same thing.” He would not get out of apologizing for this insult by pretending not to have said it.
    “Nay, ’tis not the same thing at all.”
    Ha . “Yes, it is.”
    “If you had met a lover, it would have been obvious.” Her attention was caught. “It would?”
    “Yes. You would have returned to the ballroom mussed.”
    She flipped her hand, dismissing his statement. “I could have straightened my appearance.”
    “Your lips did not look kissed.”
    What an interesting thought. “They didn’t?”
    “Nay, they did not.” He sounded so certain.
    “What do kissed lips look like?”
    “Fuller, ripe.”
    What did he mean? “Your lips become fuller when you kiss? This is most interesting.” She folded her hands in her lap, letting her fan dangle from her wrist. “Pray continue. What do you mean by ripe?”
    He made a strangled sound, but answered her. “Like a peach that is ripe. Soft and juicy, ready to eat.” His eyes glittered with intensity as they fixed on her unkissed lips.
    She sat silent for a moment, thinking about what he had said. It did not seem possible. Ready to eat? “Are you quite sure, my lord? I have never seen anyone’s lips look like ripe peaches before.”
    He laughed softly. “’Tis no surprising if you have never been kissed.” She drew herself up, indignant that he could believe such a thing. “I am four and twenty. Of course I have been kissed.”
    “No doubt your experience is broad.”
    His sardonic tone annoyed her. “I am quite serious. However, I find it odd that I have never experienced the kind of kissing you speak of.”
    “’Tis no surprise. ’Tis the kiss of a lover.” She expelled a tiny puff of air. “Oh.” She thought for a moment. “So you meant it when you said you would be able to tell if I had met a lover.” She was still uncertain, but perhaps he had not insulted her attributes again.
    “Yes.”
    She sighed. “I feel much better.”
    He