If You Give a Girl a Viscount (27 page)

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Authors: Kieran Kramer

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Regency, #General

BOOK: If You Give a Girl a Viscount
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Daisy inhaled a breath as best she could through the gag, but the shock of Perdita’s news made her limbs tremble violently.
She hadn’t caused the fire.
She’d been carrying a burden of guilt so heavy that it had crushed a part of her heart, making her afraid to love again, and it had all been so unnecessary.
Dear God, how could this be?
Tears sprang anew to her eyes, but they were tears of relief. She already knew she’d not been responsible for winding up in Roman’s bed. That had been Cassandra’s doing.
It was an astonishing revelation that Cassandra and Perdita, each in their own way, had unwittingly set the tragedy of her father’s death in motion. And neither one had known what the other was scheming—not until it was too late.
But Perdita was sobbing once more, and Daisy had to get through to her.
She nodded her head. “It’s all right,” she tried to say. But her words were completely garbled in the gag.
“Perdy!” From somewhere below them, Mona’s demanding voice called, “Are you done up there?”
Perdita hesitated only a second. She picked Daisy up and then—
Daisy kicked. Her other shoe flew off somewhere in the bracken.
And then Perdita gave a mighty heave-ho, and Daisy was flying …
Flying into the bog, where she landed with a mighty squishing noise faceup, thank God. There was a burbling of peat and water around her and the sensation of sinking into cold, mushy nothingness. She heard Perdita crashing through the woods, and she looked up and saw the pale white summer night above the branches overhead.
She was alone, and she was sinking, being sucked beneath the peat.
But before she could register that horrible fact, Perdita came crashing back again, this time toward her, and she was bellowing, “Hold on, Daisy! I’m coming to save you!” in a hopeful, noble voice—
As if she’d never been the one to dump her in the bog in the first place.
Perdita shoved the end of a branch at her, which Daisy couldn’t grab because her arms were tied behind her back. So Perdita angled the scrawny limb and then she was caught, just like a trout, her sleeve snagged by a knobby part of the wood that jutted out almost like a hook.
She hung there, moaning and crying, and watching the gray shape that was Perdita apologize for being so cruel to her.
“I
am
the Highlander,” Perdita said, holding firmly to the branch. “I hate Mother and her wicked ways. She may kill me, but I can’t do this. You don’t deserve to die, Daisy.”
It was some few minutes that she spoke, genuinely whispering for the first time in her life words of comfort and sorrow and shame that she’d been so stupid and wicked. And then her words melded into more gray forms that were shouting and crashing through the woods. And just when Daisy heard Charlie’s voice cry, “Daisy! Is that you?” she let her eyes close and the sound of his voice carry her into a sweet, black nothingness.
 
The hot bath had restored a healthy glow to Daisy’s cheeks. Now she lay in her old bed in the left turret at Castle Vandemere, safe and warm, bundled up and sipping a steaming mug of whisky punch Hester had concocted for her.
Charlie couldn’t believe how close she’d come to being taken away from him.
“You’ll stay here,” he said, doing his best to sound stern. “No going off to Rose Cottage.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “All right. I’ll stay in my room one night, and then go back.”
Not if he could help it.
The
ceilidh
had disbanded—again. His family had returned to the Keep. He was here alone with her, except for Hester, knitting in her old kitchen, and Joe, who was busy putting back all the whisky from the secret cellar he’d removed not an hour before. Charlie told him he wanted everyone to return to Castle Vandemere and so there was no need for Joe to confiscate it in the first place.
Charlie pulled Daisy’s new slipper out of his coat. “Here,” he said, feeling awkward. “I found this at the Stone Steps.”
Daisy sucked in a breath. “Mr. Glass’s slipper. I kicked the other one off by accident, before Perdita got me to the bog.”
He chuckled. “We’ll find it in the morning, you can be sure of that.”
“Thank you.”
Her expression was drawn, and she was so quiet. So meek. It worried him.
He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you changed your mind and were planning to come to the
ceilidh
.”
Her smile was tentative. “Your grandmother—my godmother—came to visit me. She brought me a beautiful gown”—her eyes filled with tears, and he took her hand and squeezed it—“that my … my mother once wore.”
Charlie held on to her hand. “Grandmother told me the story. And she showed me the gown. I’m so sorry it was ruined.”
Daisy wiped a tear away from her eye with her free hand. “I’m sad about the gown, but it saved me, in a way. My sleeve got caught on the branch Perdita was using to prop me up. It was like a hook, and I was the fish. A very grateful fish.”
“You always were the fish I wanted,” Charlie told her.
“Yes, Mona tried to tempt you with more elegant fish that day we ate the trout we caught together, but you were stubborn.”
He grinned, and she grinned back.
A little.
Actually, not very much.
He suppressed the feeling of panic that swelled in his chest and contented himself with the knowledge that she hadn’t released his hand.
He mustn’t be selfish. She’d just been through a horrible trauma. He shouldn’t expect to see her happy grin so soon after.
But the truth was, her happy grin was what he lived for.
He wanted her to be his lover and his wife, his companion and his very best friend. And he wanted her to know all this … but was it the right time?
Or a very wrong time?
She sat quietly watching him.
“So you liked the slippers?” he asked her.
She nodded. “They were exquisite. And such a gift. It’s uncanny how well Lucy knows me—even though she hasn’t seen me since I was a baby.”
Charlie took a deep breath. “
I
commissioned those slippers.”
Daisy’s eyes widened, and she pulled her hand out of his. “You?”
“Yes,” he said. “I bought them for you. With money.”
“That’s the usual way you buy something,” she said pertly. “Oh, unless you’re in the Highlands. And then you can buy things with whisky. That’s what Joe says.”
This time her grin was definitely a grin.
“I was too green to know that,” Charlie replied, his heart warming. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. I wanted to use money. I wanted to lose the bet I made with my friends in London.”
“The bet,” Daisy murmured. “You aren’t supposed to use money, especially to help Lucy’s goddaughter.”
“Yes, I know. Because if I do, I’ll be thrust onto the Marriage Mart.”
“Poor you,” Daisy said, some of her old sparkle reemerging.
He pulled a tendril of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. “You see, there’s this girl I love. And I was very
afraid
to love her, even though she’s the most perfect girl in the world.”
“She is?”
“Oh, yes. Perfect for me. But I was hiding behind a silly mask—the mask of the misunderstood man of wealth—and I was using it to avoid facing the truth.”
“What
is
the truth?” Her face was so close to his, her breath warmed his cheek.
“The truth is,” he said, rubbing her shoulders, “that I was afraid I was worth nothing beyond my riches. But it was easier to blame the opportunists who longed to pilfer my wallet than to blame myself for allowing my life to mean nothing.”
She nodded.
“Remember you asked me what kind of man I was?”
“Yes, I do.”
“At the time, I really didn’t know.” She reached up and stroked his cheek with her palm. He grabbed her hand and held it over his heart. “But I know now. It’s why I’m rebuilding Castle Vandemere and the Keep. I’m building a life for my perfect lady and me, right here in the Highlands. I’m no longer afraid she won’t love me without my riches. I know she loves who I am, the man who is poor without her.”
“Charlie.”
They kissed—a sacred, wondrous kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, a haven for his hungry soul.
Just as he’d wrapped her in his arms, a droning began beneath the turret window. It was like a swarm of sleepy bees buzzing out of tune.
Daisy pulled back, a question in her eyes.
“I told three pipers to stay,” he whispered. “You haven’t forgotten
The Legend of the Two Lovers at the
Ceilidh
on the Last Night of the Hunt,
have you?”
She shook her head, her eyes bright.
He got down on one knee next to the bed and pulled her father’s ring from his coat pocket. “Darling Daisy, I love you with all my heart and soul. I long for you to do me the great honor of being my wife, to have and to hold for the rest of my life, with many of those years spent right here at Castle Vandemere with the children and grandchildren I hope to share with you. Will you marry me, my Golden Girl?”
“Oh, yes, my Golden Prince,” she said softly, tears in her eyes.
His heart nearly burst with happiness at her answer, and he slid the ring on her finger.
She stared at it, her mouth agape. “Papa would be so happy!” she finally said. And then she laughed and wriggled up through the bedclothes to her knees and flung her arms about Charlie’s neck. “I love you to pieces,” she said with the grand abandon he’d come to cherish.
And when their lips met again, the poignant, wild notes of “Will Ye Go, Lassie” floated up to them on the brisk mountain air, a Highland song celebrating a
braw, bricht
love—the kind that lasts forever.
 
Christmas 1828
 
“
Now
?” Charlie whispered in his wife’s ear.
It was half past twelve a week before Christmas.
“Tell me when we’re going to get another chance,” Daisy whispered back. “The weather’s been so fine, tonight I’m sure all the guests will arrive.” She beamed round the long plank table situated in the cozy kitchen at Castle Vandemere, where they took their noon meal. “Davy, you, Padric, and Duncan will chop down the mistletoe.”
“Yes, Mummy,” said Davy.
Daisy absolutely refused to let her children call her Mother. She’d made the decision to be the
informal
mistress of a charming Scottish castle.
Davy scooted back his chair and tipped his chin to his brothers. “If either of you dares throw a snowball at my back, I’ll rub your faces in it. Promise not to?”
Padric and Duncan exchanged a wicked glance. “We promise,” Padric said.
“Me, too,” echoed Duncan.
“No making promises unless you mean to keep them,” Charlie interjected.
Padric’s brow furrowed. “All right, then, Davy. I take it back.”
“Me, too,” Duncan said once more.
Daisy and Charlie exchanged dry glances.
Davy narrowed his eyes at his brothers. “I won’t let you shake the mistletoe down if you’re going to be that way.”
“Is that right?” said Padric. “Just try to catch me. I’m going to beat you out there.”
“Me, too,” said Duncan.
It was all he ever said. Every day, Daisy hoped he’d say more.
All three boys bolted from the table.
“Boys!” called Charlie, and the three of them stopped as one, hurried back to the table, and the two older ones said in unison, “Delicious dinner, Mummy. May I please be excused?”
“Excused?” added Duncan, after the fact.
Daisy and Charlie exchanged a secret, happy glance, then Daisy returned to Mummy mode. She knew that if she mentioned Duncan’s triumph to him that he would be mortified. So she simply nodded graciously, and they took off like a shot again.
“Now be nice to each other!” she called after them. “And don’t go out without your scarves and mittens!”
Two hasty
Yes, Mummy’
s followed.
Duncan was silent, as usual.
But
… he was improving. Daisy was so glad for that.
She turned to the girls. “Meg and Laurel, you’re in charge of Kathleen and Elizabeth. Take them to the attics, please, and allow them to help you bring down the Christmas boxes. They’re big enough girls now.”
Kathleen gasped with pleasure. Elizabeth laughed and clapped her hands.
“Don’t you dare break anything,” said bossy Laurel to her two younger sisters.
Meg patted Laurel’s hand. “The way you did last year?”
Laurel blushed. “I—I forgot about that.”
Charlie arched one brow at Daisy.
She gave a little chuckle.
Their children provided them with endless entertainment. But they were also a handful, as children tended to be.
Daisy and Charlie had a pact, that no matter how many children they had—and seven in seven years seemed quite a lot—they would never,
ever
stop whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ear and keeping their marital bed warm.
It was a challenge, but having a love nest helped.
“Shall we?” Charlie held out his arm to his wife.
Daisy took it. “Yes, my dear.”
“Where are you going, Mummy?” asked Elizabeth. She had very sharp ears as blindness had made her sensitive to every sound.
Daisy refused to feel guilty about leaving her youngest daughter in the care of her big sisters. “Your father and I have some catching up to do. Won’t you enjoy being the big girl while we’re gone?”
Elizabeth nodded, grinned, and sucked her thumb. Kathleen yanked Elizabeth’s thumb out of her mouth.
And Elizabeth popped it right in again.
As they ascended the stairs, Charlie snorted. “The ones that act like you suck their thumbs to win us over.”
“And the ones that act like
you,
” Daisy said, “are quite bossy and don’t try to win us over at all.”
Charlie chuckled and linked his arm through his wife’s. “But I love each one of them deeper than I ever imagined I could. I’d lay down my life for every one of those little mites.”
Daisy sighed. “Me, too.” She smiled as she recognized Duncan’s favorite phrase, and her breath caught. “I—I can’t wait for tonight. Can you? I’m a bit nervous. I always get this way.”
Charlie nodded and patted her hand. “I know. But every time it works out. Love makes that happen.”
Daisy’s heart warmed. “The same way you and I came together.”
“Exactly. Who ever thought we would?” He opened the door to their bedchamber, Daisy’s old turret room. A distinct gleam lit his eye. “Enter, my wanton mistress, and I shall lead you to our love nest.”
Daisy grinned at him. “I look forward to it, my lord. And may I say yet again that I think you were a genius in your renovations of Castle Vandemere?”
“Yes, say it as often as you like. I never grow tired of hearing of my brilliance.” Charlie’s kiss was as ardent as ever.
And the joy they shared over the life they were creating together added another level of satisfaction to their lovemaking, leaving no room for familiarity to dampen their enthusiasm for each other.
Daisy’s heart immediately quickened when Charlie’s capable hand caressed her waist and moved to her breast. Her husband was her respite. The one who gave her strength when she was depleted.
He was her one, true love.
And as for Charlie, he loved Daisy more and more each day. She’d made him fully a man.
Without her, he was nothing.
Slowly, they made their way across the room, kissing all the while. Charlie reached behind his wife and twisted the knob to the closet door.
Locked, of course. No one other than they had ever seen inside.
Sighing with pleasure—Charlie was kissing the pulse point on her neck—Daisy reached out to a nearby shelf without looking, grabbed the key, and placed it in his hand. They nearly stumbled across the threshold, but it was their love nest, after all, and they knew every little thing about it.
Once inside, they broke apart and Charlie locked the door again, Daisy behind him and holding on to his belly all the while and rubbing wide circles over it with her palms. When she moved her hand lower, Charlie laid his head on the door and let out a pleasurable groan before he turned to her.
“Minx,” he said, his voice hoarse with need. “Attacking me while I’m securing the door.”
“It’s why you never let
me
secure the door. I think you quite look forward to my little attack.”
“I confess you’re right,” he said, and immediately began to disrobe her.
She was untying his cravat when their bedchamber door was flung open.
“Mummy! Daddy!” It was Davy’s voice. “I see the visitors! They’ve arrived in Glen Dewey!”
“Where are they?” asked Padric. “I could swear Elizabeth said they went upstairs.”
“I think they must have gone outside,” said Davy. “Let’s check the bungalow first. Mummy’s probably showing Daddy her new Christmas gown. And then we’ll count all the carriages again.”
Three pairs of feet could be heard running down the stone stairs.
Neither Charlie nor Daisy said a word for a moment.
“I always tell them to knock,” Charlie said with an exasperated sigh. “I really must get that lock repaired.”
“When have we had time since the children have arrived? It’s why our love nest is more valuable than ever,” Daisy replied with a giggle, and continued her disrobing of Charlie.
“Wait,” he said, staying her hand with a kiss to her fingertips. “Should we?”
“Why not? The girls are probably outside, too. No doubt they’re all jumping up and down and yelling down to Glen Dewey, as if anyone can hear them. And the horses must rest before coming up the slope.”
The two lovers and best friends looked at each other.
“I need this, darling,” Daisy whispered, her palms on Charlie’s chest. “For the rest of the month, things will be lovely—but crazy. And you never know. If the snow is horrendous, everyone could be here for another month. Or two.”
She nearly shuddered. Charlie didn’t look thrilled at that prospect, either.
“I adore everyone, of course,” Daisy said in sincere tones.
“As do I.” Charlie pulled her close and grinned. “But I adore when it’s just us even more.”
Daisy brightened. “If we’re snowed in, at least we’ll have plenty of room if everyone gets restless. The guests can always move to the Keep.”
“Fine plan.” Charlie kissed her temple and nuzzled her ear. “The Beebses will no doubt come to the rescue.”
Daisy lifted her neck to luxuriate in his kisses even more. “Of course they will. And they’ll be here tonight.”
Daisy loved living next door to Cassandra and her husband, whom she’d grown to love as a brother, the same way she loved Cassandra as a true sister.
“Right,” said Charlie with spirit. “We have it all worked out. Now, it’s time for our own private celebration of … things to come.” He made a wry face. “In case Harry is anxious to get here, we’ll have to make it short.”
“But sweet,” Daisy added.
“Ah, love, it’s always sweet with you.” Charlie’s enthusiasm always undid her.
He pulled at her laces.
She worked on his breeches.
Eventually, they stood together naked, their bodies pressed together, heat rising between them.
“No time for besotted gazing,” Charlie murmured. And lifted his bride in his arms. He walked a few short feet away to the only object in the tiny room—situated beneath the stained-glass window of the Golden Prince and the Golden Girl, which used to adorn the drawing room until Charlie had it moved.
Gently, he lowered Daisy to a cozy feather tick on the floor. The bed was covered with beautiful silken pillows. She laughed as he lowered her, which made him laugh—and then she pulled him right on top of her and rolled beneath him to her belly.
“This way,” she said. “It never fails to delight me.”
Their earlier days, when they’d been forced to share a room at the Keep and Charlie had kept to his promise not to ruin her completely, had given them a confident enthusiasm for pleasuring each other in all sorts of ways.
When Daisy spread her legs beneath him, her beautiful rear end providing the sweetest cushion for his loins, Charlie felt lust and love for his wife harden the length of him. He kissed her shoulders, her spine, and worked his way down to her feminine core.
Then with great relish, he kissed her.
She lifted her hips as her moans of pleasure increased.
“Your mouth feels delicious, but the other way, darling,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Now. Please.”
“I won’t object to that,” he said, dizzy with wanting her.
When he knelt behind her and allowed the tip of his manhood to tease her, she threw her arms out, the same way she’d done so many years ago on the Stone Steps.
He adored knowing every move she’d make. She was his.
His
.
And he would make her his again. Right now.
“More, Charlie. Please.” She wriggled her rear to bring him closer.
How he wanted more, as well! Pivoting his hips, he plunged into her, all the while caressing the feminine pearl he knew so well.
Daisy closed her eyes, reveling in the wondrous pleasure Charlie was giving her, and found she couldn’t speak anymore. The pleasure built, bathing her in waves of intense gratification, the kind only Charlie could bring her.
She was here. Now. Nowhere else in her mind. She’d learned to let go … to be at ease—to believe she deserved all good things—thanks to Charlie’s skills as a lover and his devoted attention to her as her husband and best friend.
As their bodies collided in a lush, primal dance, all Daisy’s current motherly worries and cares slipped away like magic. All the old fears had long since passed, as well, especially as Mona was in Italy, in a lovely private house that catered to people with disturbed minds.
Charlie had seen to that. Daisy had told him she couldn’t bear to think of the harridan in prison. But neither could she let Mona walk the world alone, and either do to others what she’d attempted to do to Daisy, or flounder without a roof over her head and food in her belly.

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