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He kissed her nose. “I adore yer nose. Do ye ken that?”

Laughter bubbled upward from behind her ribs, and she opened her eyes, his absurdness restoring her good-humor. “My nose.” She touched the appendage, brushing her forefinger down its length. “It has a hideous hump on it. Like a miniature camel.”

“Nae, ’tis lovely, with the most kissable little nub at the end.” He demonstrated with a swift press of his mouth to said nub.

“Yer ridiculous.” Kendra laughed again. “Of all the things. My nose. ’Tis my worst feature. My eyes are my strongest asset.”

“I disagree, but then I find everythin’ about ye exceptional.” He said this as his lips hovered a mere inch from hers. “Please seriously contemplate becomin’ my countess, Kendra love. It will give me somethin’ pleasant to ponder while I’m away from ye, and somethin’ to look forward to when I return.”

Like the draw of a magnet, her attention sank to his lips, so very close to hers. She wanted his mouth on hers. Needed to taste him. More so than she required her next breath of air.

Did he deliberately torment her?

Was he demanding an answer before he satisfied her hunger?

What could it hurt to say she’d think about becoming the Countess of Montforth? She wasn’t agreeing to do so. Broden hadn’t even proposed. This thing blossoming between them was in the early stages, and it was much too soon to commit to something as serious as marriage.

But she could consider wedding him.

If only he’d kiss her again. And again. And again.

“Aye,” she said, cupping his lightly stubbled jaw with one palm. “I’ll think on it. If ye kiss me.”