Miss Delectable, page 31
He really had given her a bad turn.
“You are delightful,” he murmured, very near her ear. “I keep my promises, Dorcas, and I do not lie. You are maddening, brilliant, determined, and as tenacious as a seagull at a picnic, also entirely delightful. The boy is lucky to have a champion such as you.”
Something warm and soft brushed Dorcas’s cheek. His lips. He moved away behind the privacy screen with its intriguing collection of portraits.
She had just been kissed by the dour, unsmiling Alasdhair MacKay, and she had enjoyed it. On that startling revelation, Dorcas slipped out the door.
* * *
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Grace Burrowes, Miss Delectable
