The Kiss of Love (The Book of Love 6)

by Meara Platt

  The leaves on the overhead branches rustled lightly in the breeze. She kicked off her shoes, allowing the sun to warm her toes. “Love does not come from the heart but from the brain. It is the brain that sends signals throughout the body, telling you what to feel. Therefore, to stimulate a man’s arousal—”

  She paused to giggle. “Therefore, to stimulate a man’s arousal response, one must arouse his sense receptacles in a pleasing way. By touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing.”

  Had Tom responded like this when detecting the scent of vanilla on her skin? Is this what had made him lose control last night? She certainly had lost all sense of propriety, so this clearly applied to both sexes.

  What are sense receptacles?

  She found the answer further down the page. “Those little parts of our body that make us tingle when we are excited about something or someone. But a man’s sense receptacles do not operate in quite the same way as the female’s. Nor does a man’s brain.”

  Honey laughed. This book was not quite what she had expected, but it was interesting reading. “A man’s brain functions on two levels. The low and the high. The simple and complex. When a man’s brain is at its lowest function, he is only thinking of sex.”

  Heat shot into Honey’s cheeks. “Oh, my.”

  There was no denying what both of them were thinking last night. Only he had the presence of mind to put a stop to it before something irreparable happened.

  “It is his simple brain at work, the one formed thousands of years ago when creatures first crawled out of the primordial ooze. Very little thought occurs when the man’s sexual urges are aroused. Perhaps, no thought at all. But that is good. It is evidence of his compelling need to breed heirs with any fertile female he comes across.”

  She snorted. “Breed heirs? Indeed.”

  Well, she supposed it was a good thing earls, dukes, viscounts, and other assorted noblemen felt this need. How else were their proud family lines to survive throughout the centuries?

  “Love is a higher function of the brain. The important function that makes a man feel the need to protect his family. Wife and offspring. Otherwise, he’d merely spill his seed and then move on, leaving them to be eaten by wolves.”

  Wolves?

  “But that is why man has been given a higher brain, to enable him to love. However, before he reaches that upper function of intelligence, the man must first be attracted to a mate on the simple brain level.”

  The only problem was, Tom was neither a simpleton nor a simple man. He was smart, thoughtful, gifted with above-average intelligence. And yet, his response last night was clearly that of a man operating on a simple brain.

  A shadow fell over her as she was about to read on. Startled, she glanced up and scrambled to her feet. Her bare feet, she realized as her toes dug into the soft wool of her blanket. “You! How long have you been standing there?”

  Tom had his arms crossed over his chest and an irritating grin on his lips. “A few minutes.”

  “How much did you hear?”

  “All of it.” He strode toward her and stretched his big body atop the blanket, taking up more than half of the space. He cupped his hands behind his head and settled quite comfortably on his back. He looked irritatingly relaxed. “Do you always read aloud?”

  “I thought I was alone. Which I would be if you’d kindly take yourself off.”

  He didn’t budge.

  She sighed. “I thought you were walking with Lady Sarah.”

  “I was, but Lord Wrexham seems to have developed a tendre for her and was quite overset to see us walking alone. He joined us and proceeded to dutifully fawn over her. I made my apologies and escaped.” He paused a moment. “You stopped in to see my mother.”

  “Yes.” Realizing he was not going to leave anytime soon, she sank down beside him.

  He noticed her stockinged toes and stared at them a moment before turning his attention toward the sky.

  She was going to put on her shoes but decided not to. She was here first. He was the intruder. Well, this was his home, his grounds, his river…but she was here first.

  “Thank you, Honey.”

  She nodded. “She is having a good day. She’s going to teach me how to paint later. I’ll be right beside her. You needn’t worry. Between Dora, Poppy, and me, she’ll be protected.”

  “I know.” He paused the length of another heartbeat. “I stopped in to see her just before coming down here. She recognized me, didn’t mistake me for my father. I wanted to shed tears. Imagine a grown man crying over something like that.” He snorted. “But it felt good to have her back. Who knows for how long?”

  “Maybe bringing her here was a good thing, after all. As you said, this is where she has her fondest memories.”

  “I hope so.” He closed his eyes.

  She didn’t know if he wanted to continue their conversation, so she waited for him to say something more. She stared at her book and inhaled the fresh scent of grass and the earthier scent of the surrounding trees.

  When she tipped her face up to catch the sunlight filtering through the leaves, she heard him shift beside her. “Keep reading, Honey. The book sounds interesting.”

  She frowned at him, for his eyes were now open and reflected his amusement. “It isn’t suitable reading material.”

  He laughed. “Then why are you reading it? I never thought of myself as having two brain functions. But that explains last night, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t wish to talk about that.”

  “Fine, but neither of us is ever going to forget it happened. My lungs almost burst when I peeled the nightgown off your shoulders and saw…you. My eyeballs are still rolling in their sockets.”

  “May we please not speak of it? And shouldn’t you be with your other guests? Won’t they miss you?”

  “No. Two more of my bachelor friends arrived. They’ll provide sufficient entertainment. I won’t be missed for at least another half hour.” He cast her another of his irritatingly appealing grins. “Read on.”

  “You’re quite irksome for an earl. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I’m going to kiss you if you keep stalling.”

  “Don’t you dare! Insufferable,” she muttered, but hastily picked up where she’d left off. “When a man looks at a woman, he is making a series of quick assessments regarding her ability to bear his children. Is she too old? Too young? Too sickly or frail? And while…and while a man will ultimately peruse a woman’s entire body, his first gaze is on her…”

  “Why have you stopped?”

  He sat up and slammed his hand on the page before she was able to shut the book. “His first gaze is on her what?”

  “None of your business.”

  He peered over her shoulder to finish the sentence. “His first gaze is on her…”

  Breasts.

  He had the decency not to say it aloud, but she noted the dart of his eyes to her bosom just before he burst out laughing. “How stupid of me. I should have guessed.”

  “You are a beast!”

  “Apparently so. This explains why I wanted to devour you last night.”

  “I think we’ve read enough.” She tried to shut the book again, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Honey, in all seriousness, this is very interesting. What’s the name of this book again?”

  “The Book of Love.”

  He chuckled. “That makes sense. It’s that book Poppy, Olivia, and Penelope were carrying around that fateful summer. Nathaniel, Beast, and Thad never stood a chance, did they?”

  “It’s mere coincidence.”

  “How do you explain Romulus falling in love with your cousin, Violet? Or Finn and your sister? I know those Brayden men. They are not easy to impress. But they fell hard. Those are love matches.”

  “And your point?”

  “Are you being purposely dense? With whom do you hope to fall in love? Or should I ask, who do you hope will fall in love with you?”

  “No one. I’ve told you. I’m n
ot getting married.”

  He leaned back on the blanket. “That nonsense again. We’ll see. Go ahead, read some more.”

  “Or what? You’ll threaten to kiss me again?”

  “It isn’t a threat. It’s a burning desire, at least on my part. Perhaps yours, too. Do you dare deny you were in flames last night?”

  “Was I? I can’t recall.” She opened the book to the next chapter, which spoke of the sense of sight. He’d closed his eyes again, and she thought he might have drifted to sleep after she’d read the first few pages. But he stirred the moment she paused.

  “Would you like me to take over the reading?”

  “No, I’ll do it. I’m not about to let you get your hands on this book. Are you really paying attention to what it says?”

  “Yes.” He turned to face her, propping his weight on his elbow. “I’m beginning to understand what this book is really about. It isn’t so much about the senses, but about teaching us how to properly use them in order to find love. The right love. For example, the sense of sight. Too often we see what we want to see, don’t we? Instead of viewing with an open mind, we force ourselves to accept whatever it is we’ve already decided upon. This is why most of us are taken in by magic tricks. We are easily distracted, made to pay attention to the magician’s right hand while his left hand sets up the trick.”

  “Do you think it is this way with love?”

  “I don’t know. I expect it happens, but those would be instances of love gone wrong. That’s the strength of this book and what it’s warning us about. Take the Duke of Wellington, for example. Smartest man on the battlefield. Perhaps one of the smartest men in England. But he got himself caught in a loveless marriage. Do you know why?”

  “No, but I’d love to hear the explanation.” In truth, even though she was peeved with him, he seemed to be taking this book sincerely to heart and already gaining understanding from it. “Go on, Tom. I do want to know the reason why.”

  “He’d seen a young woman he thought was pretty, built her up in his mind to the point he believed her stunningly beautiful. He proposed to her and went off to war. When he saw her again, he couldn’t believe how plain she had become. But being a man of honor, he kept his promise and married her.”

  “That is truly sad for both their sakes. And who’s to say if she truly was plain? How could she ever compete with this goddess he’d created in his head?” Honey shook her head and sighed.

  “That’s precisely my point. He was not really looking at her.” Tom shrugged. “Another man might have found her quite beautiful. Who knows? Then there are men like your uncle, John Farthingale. All it took was one glance at his wife, Sophie, and he knew he wanted to marry her. Now, after about thirty years of marriage, he still finds her to be the most exquisite woman he’s ever beheld. Wrinkles, graying hair, spreading middle, none of it matters. That’s real love, I think. It’s hard to remain deluded for thirty years. That’s a solid, healthy marriage. My parents were the same way.”

  “So are mine. The look of love. This is what my cousins and I always hoped we’d find.”

  He tucked a finger under her chin to turn her face toward him. “What happened to shatter your dreams?”

  Chapter Six

  Honey slammed the book shut. “I have to go.”

  Tom grabbed her hand and drew her back down beside him. “No, you don’t. Let’s talk about what’s eating at your heart. I’m stronger than you are. But you must know, I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

  “But you are,” she said, sounding so hopeless, he couldn’t bear it. “Please, let me go. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “So, you’re going to take Wellington’s approach? Allow it to build, and in your case, allow it to fester until there’s nothing left of you but a sad shell? We can face it together and fix the problem.”

  “There is no problem.”

  “Then why are your eyes tearing?” He groaned, wishing this girl did not have such a tight hold on his heart. “Gad, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever encountered. The most beautiful, but also the worst. Fine, let’s get back to that book. What do you see when you look at me?”

  “I don’t want to answer you.” Obviously, she couldn’t bear being close to him, especially as he continued to press her on the hard questions. “I want to go back to the house.”

  “Why? Because you’re afraid of what I’m forcing you to face?” He still had hold of her hand, and although he wasn’t hurting her, neither was he ready to let her go. “Here’s what I see when I look at you. An angel. My angel.”

  “I most certainly am not!”

  But he’d seen a flicker of hope in her eyes, and that was enough for him. He knew he was being hard on her, but whatever was haunting her, needed to come out. “Why does that scare you? You didn’t find me hideous last night.”

  “Stop mentioning what we did…what I let you do.” Her face grew hot with shame. No doubt, she was blaming herself for failing to stop what else happened beyond their kiss.

  Sighing, he released her. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you. But I want to read that book with you.”

  “Why?”

  “You may not be interested in finding love, but I am. I’m almost thirty years old and need to provide heirs. You made the point earlier, that I’ve met hundreds of women, tripped over too many to count as they threw themselves in my way. And yet, there hasn’t been a single one who’s won my heart. I mean truly won it, not in a she-looks-good-on-paper way. Perhaps it’s me. Perhaps these women did nothing wrong, and it’s me who is flawed. If so, I had better fix the problem, hadn’t I?”

  “You aren’t flawed.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Then why aren’t you tossing yourself at me?”

  She blushed again. “Isn’t that what I was doing last night?”

  “Honey, neither of us knew what we were doing in that moment. Let’s leave it at that for now.” He grabbed the picnic basket his cook had packed for her. “What’s in here? Enough for two?”

  “That’s my lunch!”

  “Mrs. Choate is my cook. She’s always generous with her portions.” He rummaged through the basket. Cheese. Bread. Apples. Roast goose. “A feast fit for a king. See, there’s plenty for the both of us. Aren’t you thrilled?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m in raptures.”

  He laughed. “You ought to be. I’m the bachelor every young lady in London society is hoping to capture. But no more talk about that. I see we have visitors coming our way.”

  She turned to follow his gaze, then turned back to him and shook her head merrily. “Pip and Periwinkle. Better hide the food, or there’ll be none of it left for us.”

  He tucked the goose back into the basket and shut the lid just as the little spaniel reached their blanket and immediately began to sniff everywhere. He sniffed Tom’s boots. He sniffed the basket. Then he sniffed Honey’s toes since she hadn’t put on her shoes. After that, he climbed on her lap and sniffed.

  She nudged him off her lap and shot to her feet. “Periwinkle! Bad dog!”

  Tom stifled the urge to laugh. Ah, Periwinkle was definitely male. The little rake had dug his nose where it didn’t belong. Honey’s face was once again in flames. That innocence about her simply enchanted him.

  She had a rare honesty of feeling. A generous, loving heart. No guile. No deception. No scheming motives. Perhaps this is why he was so drawn to her.

  She was quality.

  He’d be a fool to let her slip away.

  Not that he was thinking beyond merely getting to know her better. He’d given his sister and her husband a hell of a time when they’d met and fallen instantly in love. He’d demanded they wait six months. He would do no less.

  He wasn’t the rash sort who would propose to a girl within a weekend of getting to know her. Besides, Honey had her secret. He needed to find out what it was before opening his heart to her.

  After the three of them and their gluttonous companion had shared the food in Ho
ney’s picnic basket, she tugged on her boots and ran around with Pip and Periwinkle, tossing a pine cone and cheering as both boy and dog ran to fetch it. Well, Pip was a growing boy and could run around for hours without exhausting himself. Periwinkle was the most spoiled animal Tom had ever encountered. The pampered rascal would likely expect Pip to carry him back to the manor house once he was spent.

  Tom participated in the silliness and couldn’t recall when he’d had a nicer time.

  He knew he’d overstayed his visit and did not want others coming down here to look for him. He returned to the blanket to grab the picnic basket and carry it back to the house since it was heavy, and he didn’t want Honey lugging it back on her own.

  How had she carried it down here while it was full of food? The basket was almost as big as she was. He hauled it onto his shoulder.

  He glanced at the book still lying on the blanket, its leather binding faded and worn. A strange feeling suddenly came over him. He needed to finish reading it with Honey. He didn’t know why it was suddenly so important but sensed her happiness depended on their getting through it together. His, too, if he wanted to be honest about it.

  He wasn’t sure if they’d have the chance before the weekend was over.

  Perhaps he was being ridiculous.

  Yet, the tug of that book felt real.

  More disquieting, it seemed to draw raw feeling out of him. Feelings of possessiveness. Desire. Hunger. Protectiveness. Yes, that one was quite overwhelming, the need to protect Honey. But from what?

  He had to get answers out of her. How? Perhaps this book was the way. He stared at it, almost feeling it throb with life. What was this book trying to tell him? That her happiness was intertwined with his?

  He knew it.

  He felt it.

  But Honey was resisting with all her might.

  She returned to his side once Pip and Periwinkle left her to go back to the house. Her cheeks were a delicate pink, and her eyes were a sparkling blue. He tried not to gape at her heaving chest, but it was hard to overlook.

  Yes, her endowments were spectacular.