To Marry an Heiress by Lorraine Heath

everything I say?”
    “I didn’t realize I did.”
    “Indeed?” she snapped with such force that he was certain she’d caused the fog to swirl around her.
    “Ah, I see. It’s simply a comment, not an expression of doubt.”
    She looked contrite and subtly disappointed. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood.”
    “Indeed.”
    A corner of her mouth quirked up, and he realized something he hadn’t before. She possessed an incredibly luscious set of lips. A lower lip that was full to the point of pouting and an upper one that would never totally disappear, no matter how tightly she pressed them together in anger. It would always be visible, taunting a man, reminding him of her kiss.
    He also noticed she hadn’t dressed in a provocative manner yet she was enticing. The simple cut of her riding habit left absolutely nothing to his imagination. She was shaped like a finely sanded plank of wood. Her hips didn’t flare out nor did her waist dip in. Whatever she wore beneath the clothing was designed for comfort, not to set a man’s blood to boiling. He wondered if, with her, his blood would ever heat to the point of distraction. Or would they simply go through the motions without ever eliciting the passions?
    Her breasts were quite small, gentle swells that would fill his palms. Nothing more. But then why would he need more? With her, nothing would be wasted.
    Perhaps because of the early hour, she hadn’t bothered to pin up her hair but had braided it in onethick rope that dangled down her spine and reached past her waist. There was so much of it. Little wonder she had trouble keeping it in place on top of her head. He suddenly had an unexpected desire to see it loosened and flowing around her.
    During his perusal, her eyes had not left him, but her half-smile had withered and her dark brows had drawn together, as though she feared what he might discover about her. Her brows had a fine arch to them that was easy to miss because her large, brown eyes drew a man’s attention long before her brows did.
    He had looked at her for so long simply as a means to an end that he’d overlooked the fact she was a woman. He’d fenced off his desires out of loyalty to Margaret, to her memory. Yet Margaret’s loyalty to him had quickly withered once she’d discovered the truth of his circumstances.
    But here sat a woman who wore atrocious gowns because they pleased her father, a lady who had agreed to marry him not for her happiness but for her father’s. A lesson in loyalty that truly served to humble him.
    “You’d mentioned that you’d never been kissed.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Where would you like to experience the first one?”
    She stared at him with round eyes, terrified eyes.
    “What?” she asked, as though she fought for each breath.
    “Your first kiss. Where would you like it to be?”
    He could see the blotches of embarrassment sweeping over her face, a flustered hand patting her skirt, her hair, before coming to rest at her throat. She averted her gaze before saying softly, “I guess on my mouth.”
    Certain he had misheard, he leaned toward her. “Pardon?”
    She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and held his gaze. “I’d like for the first kiss I get to be on my mouth.”
    He felt as though he’d walked in on the wrong end of a bad prank. “Where else might the first kiss be?”
    She swooped her hand from the top of her head toward her feet. “I’ve heard men kiss…everything.”
    Indeed. He found that little tidbit of information interesting. He wondered with whom she’d been discussing kisses. Lauren, perhaps. Yes, indeed, these Americans were a delightful surprise on occasion.
    “Did you wish for me to kiss you every where?”
    “Depends on whether or not you expect me to do the same.”
    Chuckling, he cradled her face and stroked his thumb over her cheek. Ever since yesterday he’d longed for another touch of her softness. “Typical of a woman to fear giving more than she receives. I