A Duke for Daisy: The Blooming Brides Book 1 Page 7

  “All right, boy,” she said, reaching into her pockets and pulling out a sugar cube. “Here — enjoy. Lucky will be yours for the next hour,” she said as she led him over to Mr. Hawke. “I’ll ride Sally over here.”

  “Lucky and Sally?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he greeted Lucky. “Not Lily or Pansy?”

  “They were already named before my mother got to them,” she said dryly, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t have much time, so we should be on our way. It won’t take long to get there on horseback.”

  Daisy typically walked to the meadow, so on horseback it was but a few minutes. When they reached the little wood, she dismounted, smiling as she looked around at the place that had become her secret little corner of the world, the shimmering haze of blue-violet flowers emerging from their bright green leaves, spread across the expanse beneath the surrounding trees.

  She closed her eyes for just a moment as she breathed in the sweet yet spicy scent of the bluebells, mixed with the smell of the rich earth beneath them and the cool air above. She smiled, allowing it all to invade her senses, for a moment washing away everything else that typically filled her mind — the lists of things to do, to buy, to prepare.

  “This is stunning.”

  For a moment, she had nearly forgotten Mr. Hawke, and when she turned, he had dismounted himself and was standing with his hands on his hips as he looked about them.

  “It is, isn’t it? I found it one day when I was out walking and actually fell asleep right under that tree! And I never fall asleep in the middle of the day,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. No, her mind was far too busy, her lists of tasks too long for time to sleep under a tree. But this area brought her peace.

  “You won’t find this in London,” he said with a wink as he tied their horses to a tree branch, and she nodded.

  “I suppose not.”

  Feeling somewhat vulnerable, she ventured deeper into the bluebells, allowing their beautiful violet petals and dark green leaves to cover the black of her boots. She had a crazy impulse to take her boots off and run through the field barefoot, but she certainly wouldn’t do that in front of Mr. Hawke — would she?

  “What is it?” he asked, sensing her pondering.

  “It’s just…” she felt silly even saying it aloud.

  “What?”

  “I wonder what it might be like to feel the softness of the plants on my toes.”

  He laughed and she blushed, for he was obviously astounded that she would even think such a thing. But then, to her surprise, he hobbled over to a tree stump, sat down, and took off his own footwear.

  11

  Nathaniel knew he was being ridiculous. But there was something about Daisy’s infectious spirit, of this place which seemed magical, in a strange way. He had never been one for the whimsical nor the emotional — he was a man who set a purpose and followed through. Though that had been his opinion of Daisy as well, and here she was, releasing all of her cares in a meadow full of blue flowers.

  He could tell she was embarrassed about her own reaction, and so he had done what he could to ease her worry — by joining her. He stood now, feeling the coolness of the soft flowers on his toes, and he followed her lead in closing his eyes to experience the sensations. When he opened them, she stood with bare feet, her boots discarded beside her.

  She ventured forward a few steps, and then, just as the sunlight broke through the trees, she flung her arms out and spun in a circle, tilting her face toward the warmth filtering through the branches above her, and Nathaniel could only stand and stare at her in awe.

  Never, in his entire life, had he seen anything so beautiful as the sight currently before him. He had seen the tragedies and horrors of war, and he had also seen plenty of artificial beauty in the dyed gowns, painted faces, and exquisitely coiffed hair of women as they twirled about dance floors. Buildings constructed in a wide variety of materials, painted scenes to resemble the very nature that lay around them had been part of his everyday life.

  Daisy, however, in this woodland, was what was true, what was real. This image in front of him spoke to his very soul in a way nothing ever had before.

  And he knew, deep within him, that his yearning for her was something he could no longer deny. He took tentative steps toward her, though what he was planning to do once he reached her, he had no idea. She made the decision for him, however, extending her arms, taking his hands in hers.

  “Dance with me?” she asked, her face open and vulnerable, her voice somewhat pleading, as though she was concerned that he would say no, that she would be left alone in her exhibition of joy.

  Nathaniel refused to allow that to happen. He took her hands, smiled, and danced as though there was no pain holding him back, no immobility that would keep him from enjoying this day, this moment, this woman.

  Interestingly enough, without his boot rubbing against the back of his calf, his leg felt better than it had since the injury. He let go of the thoughts of all that had happened, all he had experienced, all he was missing, to simply enjoy this dance. The music was born of the blackcaps and nightingales chirping in the air around them, the wind rustling through the tree leaves, and the faraway sound of the ocean waves in the distance.

  Finally, at the same moment, they began to slow until they stood, motionless, staring at one another as though they were the only two in the entire world.

  Daisy’s eyes were wide, searching his, and Nathaniel reached up to stroke her pale, satiny cheek with his thumb as his hand cupped the side of her head, his fingers threading through the silky strands of her hair that had come loose from her usual chignon.

  She said nothing but leaned ever so slightly into his touch, and he took that as a sign of her willingness to want this in equal measure. He bent his head, pausing for a moment to provide her a chance to retreat, and then softly touched his lips to hers.

  Daisy didn’t disengage, but she was hesitant, and Nathaniel wondered if she had ever been kissed before. If she had, it didn’t seem to be by anyone who appreciated what she had to offer. It pleased him, knowing that he would be the one to show her such a thing, for a possessiveness filled him as he held her, and the thought of any other man holding her or touching her in such a way caused extreme jealousy to fill him.

  He pressed his lips harder against hers, deepening the kiss, his lips kneading hers. She may have been inexperienced, but it was clear that anything Daisy Tavners did, it was with full intention. She met the pressure of his lips, and when he touched his tongue against hers, she opened to him, shocking him and yet inexplicably pleasing him at the same time.

  She tasted as sweetly spicy as the bluebells, like cinnamon, he thought, with a touch of sugar. He stroked the softness within her mouth, unable to explain the tenderness that came over him as he held her. Her tongue, often so tart and so accusatory — particularly toward him — was now sending sensations of heat and appreciation throughout his body. He had to stop this before it went too far, he told himself, as he fought an internal battle over whether or not he should pull away. If he continued, they might find themselves on the floor of this meadow, and he was not that kind of man, one who would take a woman’s innocence and then leave her behind.

  For he was, as difficult as it still was to believe, a duke now, and in time he would be returning to London and his estate near Chelmsford with new responsibilities, while she would remain here, in Southwold, tending the inn with her family. Suddenly the thought of Daisy, clothed in the finest of gowns as she walked into a ballroom on his arm, filled his consciousness, startling him so much that he rather brusquely stepped back from her.

  Daisy stared up at him, her eyes wide as she brought a hand to her lips, resting it against them as though she could hardly believe what had just happened.

  “Mr. Hawke…” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

  “Nathaniel,” he corrected her. “I’m sorry…”

  “Do not apologize,” she ordered, fire now back in he
r eyes, which he couldn’t help but appreciate. “That was… unexpected, but wonderful nonetheless.”

  He nodded, agreeing with her, and she finally broke her eyes away from his, looking around her at their surroundings. They were still alone, of course, but for the birds and the animals of the forest. How interesting that nothing around them had changed, while for him, everything seemed to now be different from what it was but moments ago. He swallowed, unsure of what else to say. He could hardly make her any promises, for she had no idea who he even was. Yet it seemed wrong to simply pretend this had never happened.

  “Let’s walk,” she said, solving his dilemma, and he nodded, taking her offered hand and following her slowly through the meadow. She began to point out much of the flora around them, describing certain trees and plants, telling him when they bloomed and what they smelled like, what they would look like through various seasons.

  “How do you know so much about all of this?” he asked her, and she shrugged.

  “My sister is the one who truly loves all that nature has to offer. She knows it in a way that I don’t. She understands what nature can give us, what we must, in turn, do for it. It is difficult not to remember some of the information she loves to chatter on about.” She laughed. “I love the beauty it offers, the peacefulness. As does Marigold of course, but she also appreciates its usefulness.”

  There was something about this place, the conversation, the easy flow of it, that had changed Daisy, allowing Nathaniel to see her in a slightly different light. All the worries of her work at the inn — whether it be self-imposed, or placed upon her by her parents — flew away from her, and she was left the woman she would have been had she not had so many cares.

  She looked up at him now, her face still relaxed, but her smile drifted away.

  “How long will you be staying here with us?” she asked. Nathaniel could tell that she was feigning nonchalance but knew that her question likely held much more significance, especially after what had just happened between them. For that was no ordinary kiss, whether she was aware of it or not.

  “I am unsure,” he said, and as she turned away from him, he could sense her frustration with him at not answering her. But for once, it was not that he was purposefully avoiding doing so — he truly didn’t know. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, deciding he could trust her.

  “I am here until I am told otherwise,” he said. “I await orders.”

  She turned to him now, somewhat shocked.

  “You are here because the army has sent you here?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  “I cannot entirely say.”

  “Of course.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I must offer you an apology, Mr. Haw— Nathaniel,” she said, her gaze on the indentation of a path ahead of her. “When you first arrived, I was not particularly pleasant to you, I realize that. Your countenance was, however, rather…”

  “Arrogant?” He chuckled. “I believe that was one word you used to describe me.”

  “Yes, well… you seemed to have quite a few expectations of those of us working at the inn. I know only one other man who treats people as such.”

  “Your baron.”

  “Lord Mansel, yes. I understand this is the way of things, ’tis true, but to be the one under orders is not particularly pleasant.”

  Nathaniel had never stopped to consider the thought, for those who worked for his family were well-paid and pursued the positions.

  “Perhaps it is because you never asked to work in such a position as you currently do,” he mused aloud.

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  “You didn’t decide to build or own an inn. You didn’t decide to spend your days and nights working there serving others. Your parents did. Do you get paid for the work you do?”

  “Of course not, as my parents support me — and all of my sisters. How would they ever pay us?”

  “Did they ever pay employees, when you were young?”

  “A few, yes,” she relented. “But we were just children.”

  “They are taking advantage of you, Daisy,” he said, her given name falling from his tongue without thought.

  “They are my parents!” she protested, waving an arm in front of her, emphasizing her point. “Besides, I like the work I do.”

  “Very well,” he said, not wanting to break the peace they had found by furthering this argument. He had no idea how much time they would end up having together, and he didn’t want to spend it in opposition.

  “Speaking of which, we must return,” she said, “for I must run to the market.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Are you sure? Do you feel up to hobbling amongst the stalls then?”

  “Why not? I have never been to a marketplace before,” he said, shocking her.

  “Well then,” she said with some laughter. “You’re in for a treat.”

  He did, surprisingly, enjoy himself much more than he ever thought he would at the market. However he knew it wasn’t because of the market but the woman who accompanied him. Daisy knew nearly every person there, both those who were selling their wares, and those who were shopping along with them. She efficiently greeted all of them and yet was not distracted from her purpose.

  It was interesting watching her, and Nathaniel appreciated the fact she had allowed him to come along. And when they returned to the inn after their outing and parted ways, he realized just how much he wanted to remain with her.

  12

  Daisy had hardly slept a wink. Which she hadn’t expected to — not after that kiss with Nathaniel. She relived it over and again in her mind, the pressure of his lips on hers, the taste of coffee on his tongue, the strength of his arms as they wrapped around her. Never had she thought that she would allow a man like Nathaniel to come close to her, but then, she had never truly met someone like him either.

  He was a mystery, which, in the same breath, was intriguing and yet also quite annoying. She longed to know who he was, what kind of life he had left at home. Did he have a family? A house of his own? A— no, she wouldn’t think it. He had told her that he hadn’t left anyone waiting for him, and she believed him, for at the time, he had no reason to lie to her.

  She groaned aloud as she dropped her head in her hands, and Marigold began to sit up groggily, bringing a hand over her mouth as she yawned.

  “Goodness, Daisy, what time is it? And whatever has come over you?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all,” Daisy said hastily, having no wish to tell anyone — even her sister, the person who was closer to her than anyone else in this world — what had happened yesterday in the meadow.

  The fact that she had even shown him her patch of bluebells and the oak tree — the one place she had kept entirely to herself — should have been enough for him to open up a bit about himself, but alas, it was not to be. True, he’d told her some things about himself, but it was such a paltry amount he may as well have said nothing. She sensed that he’d wanted to share more, yet something was holding him back. Why the secrecy, she had no idea. What on earth could have happened in a battle across the sea against the French that would prevent him from sharing anything about himself with her family, or, in particular, with her?

  She sighed as she flung back her blanket and began to hastily prepare herself for the day, which would begin with making breakfast for the boarders, followed by cleaning the rooms and tidying her family’s quarters.

  Daisy was bustling down the hall to the kitchens when the connecting door from the boarders’ sitting room swung open, nearly hitting her in the face.

  When she saw who it was — the very man who was occupying her every thought — she brought a hand to her breast and attempted to re-catch her breath.

  “Nathaniel!” she exclaimed as he reached out, grasping her by the shoulders to steady her. “You startled me.”

  “My apologies, Daisy,” he said regretfully. “But I cannot say that I am upset to meet
you like this, for I was on my way to find you.”

  “Is something amiss?”

  “Not at all,” he said, dropping his hands. “I was actually coming to see if you might like to walk with me to the shore before breakfast.”

  She stared at him incredulously. “A walk? Now?”

  “Well, yes. The sun has just risen, and the weather is a perfect temperature.”

  “Breakfast must be on the table in but an hour!”

  “We will return by then.”

  “Nathaniel… who do you suppose will make the breakfast?”

  “Can your sisters not do it today?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

  “No, I couldn’t ask them to — it's not their responsibility, it’s mine,” she said, lifting her hands in the air. “They help, of course, but I cannot just leave them without any sort of instruction or idea of where to begin.”

  “It’s just breakfast, Daisy,” he said in disbelief.

  “What may seem insignificant to you is part of my everyday life,” she said, trying to maintain calm as she explained. “You have plenty of time available to do what you please, and that is perfectly fine. I can imagine that it must be altogether lovely. However, that is not my life, nor do I have it within me to simply leave my responsibility for a bit of fun.”

  His brown eyes darkened slightly, but he simply nodded and turned to the door.

  “Very well, Daisy. Forgive me.”

  And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and all Daisy could do was sigh. Why, oh why, was he so contrary? It was as though he were two different men — charming in one moment, aggravating in the next. When he wasn’t given his way, she realized, he became surly. He was used to receiving what he expected, which bothered her, for that was what she had never liked about Stephen.

  There was one thing for sure. Daisy had to find out more about Mr. Nathaniel Hawke. Or whatever this was between them would be over before it even began.