Tempt Me With Kisses Read Online Free PDF Page A

a small place, with fewer people than her home of Dunburn, so it wasn’t hard to guess that the servants and townfolk would be less than delighted by Caradoc’s decision.
    In spite of her trepidation, her whole body throbbed with the memory of Caradoc standing in his solar. His barbaric hair. His piercing eyes. His powerful body. His lean, strong hands.
    His loneliness.
    Loneliness—an odd word to intrude on her thoughts as she contemplated the lord of an estate, yet once there, it would not leave.
    Was that what she had sensed below the surface of his blue eyes even when he was a boy, the ache of a heart as lonely as hers? Was that why she had been so drawn to him that first day long ago?
    She had been lonely all her life. Too well-to-do to fit in with the village girls, not of noble rank to be the acquaintance of the girls of quality, she had inhabited a heaven of material plenty, but a purgatory of solitude. She had desperately yearned for friends and companions, and many a time she had longed to be poor enough to play with the peasant girls.
    Since that had not happened, she had found refuge in stories she made up, especially the one about a boy in a tower. He was an enchanted prince and he fell in love with her after she released him from his tower prison. As she had grown up, so had he, becoming a man with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes, broad shoulders and long, strong legs—like Caradoc. She had imagined all this but never the waves of physical longing he inspired.
    How could she, when she had never felt anything like that in her life?
    Suddenly, an extremely thin, elderly woman marched into the chamber without so much as a knock to warn of her approach. She was clad in a plain brown woolen gown belted about her narrow hips and a white scarf was on her head. The keys tied to her belt jingled as she came to a halt and sneered with impertinent disapproval at Fiona.
    Ganore.
    Fiona remembered the woman from her visits. Ganore had been younger then, of course, and spent most of her time with Caradoc’s mother, or his sister, Cordelia. She had been a harsh, croaking raven of a woman. From her appearance it seemed little had changed, except that now her hair was white and the creases in her cheeks deeper. Unfortunately, the keys she carried indicated that she was of high rank among the servants. A woman like this, of such obvious prejudices and in a position of responsibility, was dangerous. She could make her mistress’s life a living hell.
    “Hello,” Fiona began pleasantly, hoping for the best.
    Ganore’s suspicious black eyes narrowed. “You’re a Scot.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “And you’ve got red hair.”
    She spoke as if Fiona had one eye, like a Cyclops.
    “It’s auburn,” she genially corrected, still trying for a truce. “It was much redder when I was younger. I have hopes it will continue to darken. I would love to have black hair before I die.”
    The woman not only didn’t smile, her brow furrowed as if Fiona had personally insulted her. Perhaps it had not been wise to mention death to one of Ganore’s years, even in jest. “My name is Fiona, Fiona MacDougal. I used to come here with my father, Angus MacDougal, the wool merchant. He bought Llanstephan fleece.”
    Ganore sniffed derisively, as if to say, So what of that? “I don’t remember you.”
    She sounded as if she thought Fiona was lying.
    Fiona struggled to restrain her temper as she nodded at the keys on Ganore’s belt. “I see that you have risen in the world since last I was here, Ganore.”
    “I am in charge of the household.” Ganore’s lip curled. “You’ve got the eyes of your father—sharp and cunning.”
    There was another implication in this, too: that he was not honest.
    Fiona bristled. Her patience, already thinned by her meeting with Caradoc, was rapidly giving way. “It would seem Lord Caradoc’s blanket is in need of mending. I am surprised you have been so remiss.”
    “He never said it needed