Conall’s laughter filled her with hope. No longer did he seem to distrust her. Mayhap the task of surmounting his prejudice would not be as difficult as she first believed. Slowly his laughter subsided to a soft chuckle and he again lowered his face to hers.

His uncommon sea-green gaze was twinkling with mirth. "Ah, lass, I quiver in fear of yer talents. Have mercy, I beg ye." He raised his to hand push a lock of hair behind her ear. "What must I do to put meself in yer good graces?"

Her heart skipped a beat at the slight touch. "Do?"

"Aye, name yer forfeit, Aisling, fey vision of Arigna Forest." His voice was a tender caress she felt to her bones.

"A kiss," she replied without pause, without thought.

His lips curved in a sly smile. "Have ye e’er been kissed afore, sweetling?"

"Nay. Will ye be my first, Conall?" His lips were so close now, she could feel their warmth. His breath mingling with her own, her pulse leapt in anticipation.

"Aye." His lips brushed hers in a feather-soft touch. Without thinking, she raised her hands against his chest. Her palms slid against a firm wall of muscle, her fingers tangling in his shirt.