Five Wicked Kisses - A Tasty Regency Tidbit
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To pay a debt, Juliana Tate must accept five kisses from the Earl of Eastbrook ... but she never suspects how delicious each kiss will be!
This Regency-set short story by RITA-nominated author Anthea Lawson is 12,500 words (38 pages).
trace of warmth. “Your father’s debts now belong to me.” “What?” Shock rippled through her. This was dreadful. To have Robert holding such power over them, after what she had done… He captured her eyes with his own, and his expression sharpened to something predatory. Juliana felt like a wild doe cornered by a hunter. The beating of her heart threatened to drown out all other sound. “I’ve spoken with your father,” Robert said. “He has agreed that you can redeem the debt from me. For a small
not change. “Let’s return to the matter at hand. Your debt to me.” She wrapped her arms about herself. It was clear he would never forgive her. “I don’t see why you’d even want to collect the debt in this manner, since you find me so contemptible. Can’t I give you some other payment?” Though what, she couldn’t imagine. “Contemptible, but still beautiful.” He reached out and ghosted a touch along the side of her face. “They call you the Ice Maiden, did you know that?” She shook her head.
tossed her hair back behind her shoulders. “You’ve collected your payment for the day, my lord. Now I must bid you farewell.” She had always been beautiful when in a temper. Not that her beauty was any excuse for her past behavior. Still, he enjoyed cracking the façade of the Ice Maiden. Knowing it would unsettle her, he went down on one knee and swept up the errant hairpins scattered on the carpet. He glanced up and gave her his scoundrel’s smile. “Shall I re-pin it for you?” “No!” She took
by the arm. “It’s hardly your fault you don’t have the newest fashions. You cut a lovely enough figure despite it. Heavens knows I’ve envied your hair for simply ages. It’s pure gold.” “A pity it’s not actual gold. Though I suppose I could sell it.” Things were certainly becoming desperate enough. “No!” Henrietta gasped. “Promise me you won’t.” Juliana raised a hand to her hair, a gently curling wealth of honey-colored locks that fell to her hips when unbound. It was her one vanity, though
last. “Whiter than teeth,” Juliana said, then instantly regretted it. “The petals are so, um…” She could not bring herself to assign an adjective to them. “Well.” He glanced about, then took a step closer. “I’m very pleased you came to view it with me. Although you are lovelier than that orchid.” Considering the flower in question, it was not much of a compliment. Still, she gave him an encouraging smile. “Thank you, my lord.” It was clear he was thinking of kissing her. Juliana leaned