Page 21 of A Midsummer Night's Kiss
“It makes her wedding night the shortest, though,” James murmured, amusement rich in his tone. “I do hope Lord Locryn’s skilled enough to make her regret that decision.”
Shocked by his bawdy teasing, Kitty glanced up and found James’s gaze locked on her lips. Her heart missed a beat.
“Not that they necessarily need to wait for the cover of darkness to enjoy themselves,” he added softly. His gaze flashed back up to hers, and all the air left her lungs.
A strange recklessness bloomed in her chest. Damn him. She wasn’t leaving here until he admitted to kissing her, at least. She deserved an explanation.
He uncrossed his arms and straightened. “Kitty?—”
“I kissed Charles,” she blurted out defiantly. “In the west tower, last night.”
His eyebrows lifted, but otherwise he managed to keep his expression bland. “Hmmmh. And did you . . . enjoy it?”
“I did.”
The corners of his lips twitched in the start of a self-satisfied smile which he quickly suppressed, and Kitty decided to torture him for not admitting the truth.
“And I kissed him again, this morning, in the maze.”
That got his attention. He stood up a little straighter.
“What?!”
She suppressed a laugh at the expressions that crossed his face; shock that she really had kissed Charles, swiftly followed by incredulity and outrage.
He cleared his throat. “Did you . . . like both kisses the same? Or was one better?”
The loaded questions had her biting her lip to hide her amusement as she pretended to consider. “They were quite different.” She opened her eyes wide in feigned innocence. “I had no idea there could be so many different types of kisses.”
His eyes narrowed in indignation that she might have preferred another man’s kiss to his own. And at the fact that she was schooling him in his own words from last night.
It served him right. He was a scoundrel of the first order, and it was only fair that he should be made to suffer for playing such a dirty trick on her.
Kitty strolled away and plucked a sprig of honeysuckle, feigning nonchalance. “Of course, it does leave me with a bit of a dilemma.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “What sort of a dilemma?”
She twirled the flower in her hand. “I was hoping a man of your . . . experience . . . might be able to help me. Since we’re such old friends.”
His fingers clenched into fists at that little dig, and she was gleefully certain he was grinding his teeth. Perfect.
“How can I be of assistance?” he growled.
“Well, Charles is the only man I’ve ever kissed, so I don’t have anyone to compare him with. What if I have the same reaction to every man who kisses me?”
The look on James’s face was priceless; a combination of horror and exasperation.
“What exactly are you asking of me, Kitty?”
She sniffed the honeysuckle and twisted the metaphorical knife. “I think I need to do some more research before I decide who to marry.” She gave a lusty sigh. “I suppose I could ask all the single men here at the wedding to kiss me, as a basis for?—”
“You’ll do no such thing!”
She dropped the sprig of flowers and dusted her hands in a businesslike manner. “I didn’t think you’d approve. Well, then. There’s nothing else for it. You’ll just have to kiss me, James. As a friend. There’s nobody else I can ask.”
A dangerous expression flickered in his eyes.
“You want me to kiss you?” He took a slow, deliberate step toward her.
