Chapter Three
As kisses went, it wasn’t his finest.
Though Brand applied finesse to that one meeting of mouths, the woman stood stiff and still as a board, her arms dangling at her sides, her eyes wide open and staring into his face, shock and confusion warring for dominance in those blue depths.
His friends were watching from across the way. If he didn’t apply himself to this kiss and take it deeper, he’d lose the wager. Relaxing his hold on the missionary’s sister, he pulled back to better look into her face. A pretty flush stained her ivory cheeks. A few strands of her dark brown hair had escaped from the tight knot at the back of her head to frame her round face. No, she didn’t appear undone enough for his liking. “Well, that won’t do at all.”
The delicate tendons in her neck moved with a hard swallow. “No, I suppose it won’t.” The words were rather breathless as she stared at him, torn halfway between flight and fainting.
Those melodious tones gave him pause. Beneath the horrid, drab, ill-fitting clothing, and the unremarkable hairstyle, she was a fetching thing. Obviously the first kiss had caught her by surprise. The thing to do was try again, and this time he’d give it some stick. “Shall we have a repeat, then?” When he drew her close to his body a second time, she uttered a soft protest and wriggled out of his hold.
“I rather think not.” With shock still firmly in her eyes, the woman fled from the stall. She soon melted into the crowd.
“Damnation.” Brand rubbed a hand over his chin. At least she hadn’t slapped him. He stepped from the stall, and when his gaze alighted on her abandoned bonnet, he stalked over the ground. Quickly retrieving the headgear, when he straightened, his fellows had joined him. All wore expressions of mirth. “Out with it, then. Tell me I’ve failed.”
George snorted. “Failed, hell. Captain, you barely got started.” A snicker followed the statement.
“That’s so.” Philip nodded. “Never thought I’d see the day when the charming, lauded Captain Storme couldn’t kiss his way into a woman’s good graces.”
John shrugged. “She certainly didn’t melt into your arms.” He met Brand’s gaze. “Isn’t that what you always say women do? With just one kiss you have them eating out of the palm of your hand?”
Another round of laughter erupted between his fellows.
“Et tu, Brute?” Brand asked of his best friend.
“What can I say? You do tend to brag excessively about your conquests.” John looked about their circle. “Since she ran from you as if the hounds of hell were after her, I’d say you lost the wager fair enough.”
“He did indeed,” George inserted. He thrust out a hand. “Pay up.”
“You know I’m good for it.” When his mates stared in expectation, Brand sighed. “Fine.” He delved his free hand into an interior jacket pocket and withdrew a slim leather pouch. The clink of coins echoed as he tossed it to John. “There’s an even hundred pounds there. Divide it up as you see fit, but I demand another chance.”
“That’s not allowed, Captain.” Philip shook his head. “You already lost the wager.” He accepted his portion with a grin.
“I’ll have that kiss; I know it.” What the devil did he want it for now? There was no more wager, no purse of coin to win, so why the deuce did he care? Something he’d glimpsed in the dark depths of her sapphire eyes called to him, something more than the shock and the fear, something he doubted she was even aware of, and, by damn, he wished to see that tiny spark kindled, to discover what it might become.
Though he’d touched her lips for a brief moment, the softness in those two pieces of flesh had set his imagination soaring. He wanted another taste, for no other reason than to find out if there was fire buried within the missionary’s innocent sister.
Philip and George exchanged glances brimming with speculation. They gestured John close and then they three held a whispered conversation. Finally, when the knot broke, George counted his share of the wagered coin and then shoved the lot into a pocket.
“We all agree the wager is over and you lost,” John began, but the twinkle in his eyes didn’t bode well for Brand. “However.” He held up a hand when he would have protested. “We propose a new one.”
He tightened his fingers on the brim of the monstrously ugly bonnet. The sound of cracking straw reached his ears and he relaxed by increments. “Such as?”
George took up the narrative. “Since we are all aware of your skill with the ladies, we realize kissing is probably beneath you and you might not have had a correct advantage.”
“Thank you for that. I’ll admit catching a woman by surprise is unorthodox—”
Philip cleared his throat, interrupting. “This new wager hasn’t anything to do with kissing.”
Despite himself, Brand’s interest piqued. “Go on.”
“We’re offering you five hundred pounds if you can seduce and then bed the woman.” The cheeky grin on Philip’s face begged to be knocked off, but Brand quelled the urge.
Nothing to do with kissing? Are they mad? Kissing is the first step to seduction.“What’s the timeframe?” Not that it mattered. He knew his skill and was quite confident in his ability to charm any woman between the sheets, except… the missionary’s sister represented a larger challenge than normal. A few kisses or stolen caresses wouldn’t do it.
John shrugged. “For a man of your talents? Let’s say a week. From today.”
God, sometimes his friends were bastards. Brand narrowed his eyes. “A week to bed a woman who ran away from a kiss.” It wasn’t a question.