Charlie woke the next morning from a fitful slumber, and it wasn’t only the poor sleeping accommodations and the extraordinary light that had kept him awake. Images of Daisy naked and inviting his caresses at the Stone Steps pervaded every aspect of his dreams. And as warmly sensual as those imaginings had been, he’d awakened with an uneasy feeling.
Of course, in the true light of day, he knew why. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was walking a risky road with Daisy. A dalliance in London was one thing, with a knowing widow or a kept mistress … but Daisy wasn’t made for dalliances.
And he wasn’t made for marriage.
Looking up at the crude beams above his head, he vowed to keep his distance from her, as difficult as it would be. First chance he got, he’d tell her there were to be no more kisses of such an intimate nature, as much as he craved holding her in his arms again and lavishing her with kisses from head to toe.
As much as he longed to make every day for her a special day.
“Lord Lumley!” The hiss came from the ground outside the byre, from the other side of the rotting shutters.
He peered through a crack in them.
Daisy stood below, bright-eyed and apparently well rested. Dreams of
him
obviously hadn’t kept her tossing and turning all night.
She wore the plainest gown he’d ever seen, and her hair was once more tightly bound. Even so, when he pushed the shutters open, he couldn’t help thinking how feminine she always was, especially in the throes of passion.
“You’re up awfully early,” he managed to say, trying to ignore his desire for her.
She put a hand to her eyes and squinted up at him. “I had to come see you. Before all the visitors arrive at the Keep and we don’t have a chance to speak.”
“Hold on a moment, and I’ll be right out.”
“No,” she said, and sounded rather embarrassed. “Please don’t bother.”
“But there’s something I need to talk to
you
about—” He was already standing and tucking his shirt into his breeches.
“Very well.” She sounded a trifle uneasy. “But first, I have to tell you I’ve had a chance to think over what happened yesterday, and as memorable as it was, we can’t do it again. I’ve too much at stake here with winning the castle back. I can’t afford to be distracted. And—and you’re a man of a certain ilk. We both know what that means.”
“
Ilk
again? Are we always going to come back to that?”
She shrugged in pixieish fashion. “You told me yourself you’re an Impossible Bachelor, wise in the ways of the world. So let me speak frankly. You helped satisfy my curiosity about certain things, and it was very nice. Thank you, but now it’s over. We’ll continue our ruse of being engaged, but it certainly won’t displease my stepmother to see us apart.”
He ceased in his dressing. “You
used
me yesterday afternoon?” he called out to her.
“I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t help it. You looked very … appealing, having just come from shinty. And the way you held the bag of shinty sticks, I could see all your muscles to perfection.”
“Wait a minute. Are you describing me the same way I’d describe a horse I admire?”
“I don’t mean to. I’ve never bought a horse. Is that how men talk about them?”
“Never mind that. Did you say my lovemaking is very
nice
?”
She nodded. “Perfectly agreeable.”
“
That’s
all you can say about it?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry if that disappoints you, my lord.” She didn’t look sorry. She looked annoyed and impatient, the way she was throwing her arms about to add weight to her words one minute and pushing her hair behind her ears the next. “No doubt plenty of women in your future will be more ebullient in their assessment of your—your
skills
because they’re not very busy, are they, those London ladies? Riding about on their horses in Hyde Park, lolling on sofas with glasses of ratafia—”
He shook his head. “You were
assessing
me?”
She waved a hand at him and turned partially away. “I’ve got to go. One last thing—I know at the Keep, you’ll do your best to treat me the way you would any other woman there.”
He saw her stride away, toward the castle, and he hurriedly finished tucking in his shirt, climbed down the ladder he’d taken to the loft, and strode after her.
“Miss Montgomery,” he called to her retreating back.
“Daisy.”
She kept going. “I really must go.” When he caught up with her and took her arm, her eyes were stormy. “Which part of our conversation did you not understand, my lord?”
“First of all, it was
your
conversation,” he said. “I barely got a word in.”
“But—”
“And secondly, I must tell you that at the Keep, we’ll still need to work together to ensure that the visit goes off without a hitch.”
She let out an impatient breath. “Of course. But the Keep is vast. We probably won’t see much of each other, except at meals. By the way, I gave you the largest suite, the Blue Room. I’m up the stairs and down another corridor entirely.”
She took off again.
“Wait a minute—”
“I can’t,” she said, her back to him. “I promised Mrs. Skene and Mrs. MacAdoo Hester’s receipt for her special apricot brandy pudding. They volunteered to take charge of the kitchen at the Keep all ten days of the Highland venture.” But then she stopped and turned around. “You do know you won’t be able to participate in the hunt, don’t you?”
He couldn’t help scowling. “But that was the part I was looking forward to most. Stalking red deer, eating around a campfire …”
She shook her head. “You have responsibilities here. You can’t just disappear for a couple of days in the mountains.”
“But—”
“The men of Glen Dewey will take care of our guests on the hunt. What if some of the travelers prefer to stay back at the Keep? Perhaps there’ll be a few crotchety old men who like to play whist, or some who’d rather go fishing. You’ll need to bait their hooks.”
“Me?”
He was used to having people bait
his
hooks!
“Oh, and I must remind you. Joe said he’s going to need help shearing the sheep here at Castle Vandemere. It will fall right in line with showing the visitors what the Highlands are about. To a large extent, we’re about those stubborn, woolly beasts. The guests will enjoy traipsing over to watch.”
She sounded quite pleased at the idea.
He huffed. “I’ll do my best to shear the sheep for Joe’s sake but not in front of any guests. I’ve never done it before, and I’ll look like a fool.”
“They’ll love it. Just remember”—she grabbed her index finger—“pleasing the guests. It’s our first priority. And then”—she held on to her middle finger and wiggled it—“winning the castle back, priority number two.” She then grabbed her thumb. “Keeping as much money out of my stepmother’s hands as possible. Those are the three subjects uppermost in my mind, as they should be in yours, as you’re a stand-in for my godmother, Lady Pinckney.”
So their kissing wasn’t uppermost in her mind, eh? His pleasuring her until she cried his name was already forgotten, too?
She looked over the rail on the shady side of the byre at the sow and her piglets—said a few words of encouragement to the sow—then headed toward the castle kitchen without either a backward glance or a farewell.
Although she did stop and admire a potted lemon tree on the steps before she disappeared through the door.
He put his fists on his hips and turned in a slow circle, taking in the castle, the byre, the chicken yard, the sheep huddled on a nearby hill next to a crumbling stone wall that needed repair, and the sagging drawbridge that needed fixing.
Then he remembered those sharp shears he’d seen hanging in the byre. And the obstinate look he’d seen in the eyes of sheep the few times in his life he’d bothered to notice them.
“Bloody hell,” he said.
London felt a long, long way off.
Daisy inhaled a great breath when she got inside the kitchen of Castle Vandemere.
Heavens, her little showdown with Charlie had been difficult to pull off. She was far from indifferent to him—remembering that hour late yesterday afternoon on the mountainside still made her heart beat faster and her limbs weak. But she could hardly afford to indulge in romantic feelings for a man who lived far away, had no intentions of ever settling down, and who could have any woman he wanted if he merely snapped his fingers.
She was a temporary amusement.
A false fiancée.
She’d be amused herself if she didn’t feel so afraid of her own feelings. Charlie had made her feel beautiful. He’d made her laugh. He’d also brought her great pleasure. She’d like to be so pleasured every day for the rest of her life.
He was the perfect companion, friend, and lover.
But she wouldn’t think about that. She’d think instead of the viscount’s incredulous face as she’d stormed past him just now, thrust those menial jobs his way, and ruined his hopes of going on the hunt.
He’d been so generous with her on those Stone Steps, but she couldn’t allow him to think she’d not be able to live without his attentions—and he also didn’t need any more spoiling.
“Poor man,” she muttered as she sifted through Hester’s receipts, which she found in a little wooden box.
Although she must take that back. He was
not
a poor man. She shouldn’t and wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He’d made a promise to assist her, and he was a gentleman. Supposedly, gentlemen ached to fulfill promises. So she was only helping him do his duty.
“What was that you said, dearie?” Hester was bustling about, making cups of tea, a small frown on her face.
“Oh, nothing,” said Daisy. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not really.” The housekeeper gave a small sigh. “It’s just that Jinx hasn’t come round for her morning saucer of milk. She’s like clockwork.”
“Maybe she’s out on the prowl.”
“That’s what I’m supposing.” Hester chuckled. “That’s the thing about cats. They’re independent. They come when they want to.” She eyed Daisy over her spectacles. “But back to you. Who are you calling a poor man? I presume you mean Joe? I’ve good news. His limp’s improving in this warm weather. He’s already off herding the sheep to the east pasture.”
“You read me right.” Daisy threw her a nervous smile. “I was thinking of Joe.”
“Of course.” Hester whistled as she poured the tea.
Which meant she thought something wasn’t quite as it should be. She was worried about Jinx, but had she noticed something about Daisy, too?
“All right,” Daisy confessed. “I was fibbing. I wasn’t referring to Joe. I called the viscount a poor man. He’s not used to doing chores and missing out on amusements. But he will over the next ten days. He’ll have to. It’s why he came up here, after all.”
She waited for Hester to react.
The older woman took her time, putting the kettle back on the hob and wiping her hands on her apron. “I think he’s a lovely lad,” she said. “And I’d call him a poor man, too, if he didn’t need this whole experience the way a thirsty man needs water.”
“Do you think so?” Daisy brightened.
Hester chuckled. “Of course! Every man needs to be challenged. I doot he’s ever been.” She wagged her finger at Daisy. “So behind his back, you may call him a poor man, but to his face, stay strong, my girl. Don’t give him an inch. He’ll be better for it.”
“That’s a fine idea,” Daisy agreed, and renewed her vow once more to stay far away from Lord Lumley.
“Even though he’s verra kissable,” Hester said lightly, and immediately turned her back to pull out a crock of flour.
Daisy felt heat creep up her neck.
Hester put her crock on the counter and came over to lay a hand over Daisy’s own. “Remember, lass, your heart is a precious thing. When you choose to give it away, make sure you give it to the right man. Sometimes you’ll meet him at the wrong time. He or you—or both of you—might need a little growin.’ Or you could meet the wrong man at the right time … someone who comes along at the moment you’re ready to soar like a bird—and then he goes and clips your wings.”
Daisy bit her lip. “It all sounds scary. And very confusing.”
“Not if you pay attention to your own heart, dear.” Hester gave Daisy a tremulous smile and patted her cheek. “You’ll know.”
Daisy gave her a big hug. “You’re the best lady in the world.”
At which moment the most wretched woman Daisy knew came into the kitchen. “Get back to work,” Mona hissed at them both. “It’s time we’re off to the Keep.”