Platt Meara - The Taste of Love

Book of Love, Book Three

Meara Platt

Copyright 2019 Myra Platt

Kindle Edition

Cover Design by Dar Albert

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

The Book of Love Series

The Look of Love

The Touch of Love

The Taste of Love

The Song of Love

The Scent of Love

The Kiss of Love

Dark Gardens Series

Garden of Shadows

Garden of Light

Garden of Dragons

Garden of Destiny

The Farthingale Series

If You Wished For Me (A Novella)

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To all who are romantic at heart

Chapter One

Wellesford, England

September 1815

B ollocks, Thaddius MacLauren, Laird of Caithness, muttered the moment he spied young Phillip Sherbourne running from the lush, green copse of trees beside Sherbourne pond toward the manor house, his laughter so gleeful, it could only bode ill for his latest victim.

Thad handed his mount to one of the waiting grooms and hurried to the entrance of the house in time to catch the boy at the door. Pip, whats in your hand?

It looked like a womans gown, and since the boy had just come from the direction of the pond, from the very spot where one went to undress before jumping in to swim naked in the water Och, lad. Ye didnt. Is it Loopys?

A guilty look swept over Pips face. He tossed the white muslin dotted with embroidered pink flowers at Thad, and with a muttered uh, oh took off into the house.

Thad stared at the soft fabric in his hands, exhaling a moan as his fingers began to tingle. Seems Penelope Sherbourne did not have to be in the gown for his body to respond. Just knowing it was hers, taking in her familiar wild strawberries scent was enough to get his heart pounding.

He hadnt seen Penelope since her brothers wedding to Poppy Farthingale a fortnight ago, purposely avoiding her now that The Book of Love had come into her possession. She had yet to use a single recipe out of this mysterious book on him, but it did not seem to matter. He already had the urge to mate with this fertile female as the author had described in explaining the science of a mans brain.

He needed to get his hands on the book, for hed received warnings about it from his friends, Alexander Beastling and Nathaniel Sherbourne, and wanted to be prepared to combat whatever scheme Penelope was plotting to use on him.

Alex was the Duke of Hartford and known as Beast to his friends. He had been taken down first by Penelopes friend, Olivia Gosling. A fearsome Beast bested by a Little Goose. Nathaniel, the Earl of Welles, had fallen next and married Poppy Farthingale. Was it a coincidence that his two friends had lost their hearts to Penelopes best friends?

And now Penelope had possession of The Book of Love. What did it bode for him?

He glanced up at the sun as it beat down on him from a cloudless, blue sky.

Sherbourne Manor was usually a bustling hive of activity, but no one other than a few stable boys, a footman at the front door, and a gardener seemed to be about, for it was shortly after noontime, the hottest part of the day, and no one would be strolling about the grounds unless required, as these men were, for work.

Sighing, he ran a hand raggedly across the nape of his neck and started toward the pond, the fabric still in his tingling hand and the summer sun beating down on his head. He strode down the path toward the copse of trees and the pond where Penelope was swimming in all her natural glory.

He wasnt going to delegate the chore of handing back her clothes to anyone but himself. The girl was too beautiful, and no man could be trusted. Other than him, of course.

He wasnt going to peek.

Not that he was particularly honorable or a gentleman, and even though Loopy was the most maddening woman in existence who deserved an occasional set down, he was not about to humiliate her by ogling her in the altogether without her permission.

He would look his fill if she ever allowed it, but that was never going to happen.

To her, he was just a big, arrogant Scot with an irreverent attitude and a smart mouth. Loopy, he called out, stopping at the edge of the trees and overgrown hedges along the pond. Dont come out of the water.

No, Thad!

He stepped into the copse, ducking under branches laden with green leaves and nudging aside honey-scented hedgerows. Stay in the water. Im going to place your gown on the branch of

His heart burst, for there she stood at the very spot hed warned her not to be, her auburn hair long and wet and curling about her breasts and hips. Bollocks, I told ye

Her banshee shriek almost ruptured his eardrums. Dont look! You big, Scottish oaf! Im not She shrieked again and grabbed the gown out of his hands.

He finished the sentence for her in his mind. Not dressed. Im not dressed.

Mother in heaven! She was practically naked except for the wet chemise shed worn to swim that hid nothing from his view.

Nothing.

Not the rosy tips of her breasts.

Not the ample roundness of those breasts. Nor the blessed curves of her exquisite body and her long, shapely legs.

He closed his eyes and turned around, his mouth hitting a jutting tree branch in his haste to blindly step away. Damn it, Loopy! I warned ye not to come out of the water.

I was already out, you dolt. You marched in like an invading Hun and gave me no time to jump back in.

Ye could have alerted me to that fact, he muttered testily, for his heart was still in a rampant roar and hed now cut his lip on the protruding branch.

I said No, Thad. Was that not enough of a clue?

I thought ye were agreeing with me. As in, No, Thad. I will do as ye say for once in my blessed life and not come out of the water. He put a finger on the spot of the cut and felt the warm ooze of blood. Figures, Im back less than five minutes and already bloodied because of you.

Youre hurt? He heard a momentary rustling, no doubt Loopy hastily tossing off her chemise and donning her gown before she came up to him, her manner now gentle because she was a soft-hearted Harpy and could not bear to see him hurt.

He opened his eyes and studied her as she began to fuss over him. This is why he could never dislike her no matter how much she vexed him. She thought of him as a big, dumb Scot. But he was her big, dumb Scot, and hed never known kinder treatment from anyone whenever she sensed he needed it.

Oh, Thad, she said in a breathy moan, running her thumb lightly over the spot to wipe away the small trickle of blood. Her wet chemise was dangling over her arm, so she took it and raised the gossamer fabric to his mouth to use it as a cloth. Im so sorry. Does it hurt?

No, Loopy. Im fine.

She shook her head and laughed. I wish I could say the same for myself. But its all my fault, isnt it? I trusted Pip to behave. I ought to have known better. Where is that devil-child anyway?

He ran inside the house. Thad couldnt resist brushing a stray, damp lock of her hair off her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.