The Inheritance (22 page)

Her eyes were focused on what she touched, so he was able to observe her without being observed. He had seen the pleasure—and wonder—on her face as she caressed the calluses on the palm of his hand, making him tremble. As she trailed her hand up his sleeve, feeling the muscles tighten beneath the wool. As she threaded her fingers through the curls that
hung over his collar and then slipped her hand beneath them to find his nape, causing him to shiver.

Nicholas had never been seduced by someone who was totally unconscious of that seduction. By the time Daisy’s palm met his cheek, he was completely aroused. As her fingertips traced the line of his jaw, and finally his mouth, his heart was thumping madly, and his lips had parted to seize the air he needed to ease his tortured breathing. He wanted her to look at him, to see in his eyes what she had done to him.

Instead, her lids lowered as she raised herself on tiptoes and pressed her lips against his, where her fingertips had been. It was a kiss of exploration, one that questioned the rightness of what she was doing. It was a kiss of wonder as his mouth opened to hers. It was a kiss of passion as her tongue slid quietly into his mouth and wreaked havoc with his senses.

Somewhere he found the strength to keep from dragging her against him. He feared that if he touched her she would realize what she was doing. Who he was. Who she was. And she would flee. He couldn’t bear to let her go, so he surrendered himself to her, allowing her to lead where she would, and happily following after her. Her kiss moved him in ways he had never known a woman could move a man.

Eventually her body arched into his, and his hands gathered her up and held her close. The kiss changed, grew, and changed again to something that swallowed both of them, dragging them into some hidden valley where the wind smelled sweet and the sun shone bright and the grass was green and perfect.

Nicholas wondered what would have happened if Colin hadn’t arrived at precisely that moment. They broke apart, or rather, Daisy wrenched herself free. If it had been up to him he would have told his son to take himself away and kept right on kissing her. Daisy had quickly, but with a great deal of hard-won dignity, excused herself.

But not before exchanging glances with him. He had seen the deep, unsatisfied need in her eyes, and it had made him yearn to finish what they had started. He had also seen something else. Something that looked like fear. He didn’t know where it had come from or why she had felt it, but tonight, when he made her his wife in fact as well as name, he would find out.

“Pa?”

Nicholas looked up and found Colin in the doorway to his bedroom.

“I called you twice. Are you all right?”

Nicholas grinned ruefully. “As well as any groom ever is an hour before his wedding.” He tried tying his cravat, but couldn’t get his fingers to do what he wanted. Maybe he shouldn’t have dismissed Porter, after all.

“You’re nervous!” Colin exclaimed. “Here, let me do that.”

Nicholas stood still as Colin expertly folded the cravat into place.

“There, how’s that?” Colin asked, as he turned his father to face the mirror over the dresser.

“Perfect. Thanks, Colin. I’m glad you’re here to be my best man.”

A frown creased Colin’s forehead. “Pa, why are
you going through with this if it makes you so uncomfortable?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Daisy Windermere is a very beautiful woman.”

Colin settled on the corner of the bed, near a tall beveled foot post. “But you’re not in love with her, are you? I thought people were supposed to marry for love. At least, that’s what Simp always told me.”

“Simp’s a romantic living in a practical world,” Nicholas replied.

“So you’re marrying Daisy for practical reasons?”

“Not entirely,” Nicholas confessed.

“Oh, I see.”

Nicholas raised a brow. He wasn’t sure if Colin had grasped what he was saying, but he wasn’t about to explain to his son that aside from the practical reasons for marrying the Duchess of Severn, he very much desired her and wanted her in his bed. Of course, practically speaking, marriage was the only way to get her there.

He hadn’t been entirely honest with his son, but then, he hadn’t been entirely honest with himself about his reasons for marrying Daisy, either. He was pretty certain he wouldn’t have been so quick to agree to marriage if he had come to Severn and found anyone besides Daisy Windermere in the role of dowager duchess. She intrigued him. She delighted him. She challenged him. She was a woman like none he had ever met. Was it any wonder he was looking forward to making her his wife?

“Are the Earl of Rotherham and his family invited to the wedding?” Colin asked.

“The earl’s wife is attending Daisy, so I’m sure the
earl will be there. I’m not sure who else Daisy invited. I left everything up to her.”

“Do you think Lady Roanna will come?”

Nicholas turned and faced his son. “You don’t sound like you want her there.”

“I don’t care one way or the other.”

Nicholas took one look at the white-knuckled hand that gripped the bedpost and said, “Try again.”

Colin noticed how hard he was holding the post and let it go. “The hands give you away every time,” he said with a wry twist of his mouth. “The truth is, Lady Roanna and I had a falling out. I’d rather not see her again.”

“That might be difficult, since Rockland Park is so close, and since both Daisy and I have ties with the earl and his wife. Would you like to tell me what happened?”

Colin flushed.

“I assume your disagreement involved a kiss.”

Colin nodded.

“Did you force her?”

Before his father had finished speaking, Colin was on his feet, ready to fight. “You taught me better than that, Pa. How could you even think such a thing?”

Nicholas laid a hand on Colin’s shoulder. He felt the tension in Colin’s body and sought the right words to encourage his son to share his problem after the mistaken accusation he had made. “I’m sorry. I should have known better. But if she wanted the kiss, what caused the problem?”

Colin took a step, so that Nicholas’s hand fell away. It was difficult for him to admit what he believed to be the truth. He took a deep breath and
blurted, “She kissed me like she might have kissed a pig on a dare. To see what it would be like.”

“What?” Nicholas simply couldn’t believe what he had heard.

Colin turned to face his father, and Nicholas saw the damage Lady Roanna Warenne had done. His son was not so trusting as he had been, and never would be again. The gullible boy was gone, and in his place was a wounded, suspicious man.

“You were right, Pa. About how a woman can be deceitful. Lady Roanna didn’t treat me honestly. If she wasn’t interested, she shouldn’t have pretended she was. I won’t be so stupid the next time.”

“I’m sorry that happened, son. I’m sure we can find things for you to do around here that will keep you away from Rockland Park.”

Colin’s experience reminded Nicholas—at a critical time in his relationship with Daisy—that he should beware of his future duchess. She had an agenda of her own where this marriage was concerned. He had to be careful not to let himself trust her. He knew the disaster that awaited a man who trusted—or loved—a woman.

“If Lady Roanna attends the wedding, just ignore her,” Nicholas advised. “There’s nothing a woman hates worse than that.”

Colin grinned. “Thanks, Pa. I knew I could count on you to help me out.”

“We’d better get started for the church, or I’m going to be late for my own wedding. Let’s go see if my duchess is ready.”

Daisy wasn’t ready and didn’t think she would be for about the next two hundred years.

Last chance to back out, Daisy. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?

No, I’m not sure! But it’s too late to do anything about it. We made a bargain.

It’s never too late. Just tell the duke you’ve changed your mind
.

How about telling him I’m out of my mind?

A knock on the door interrupted the little voice that warned Daisy to escape while she still could.

“See who that is, Jane,” she said to her maid.

Jane opened the door and found the duke and his son standing there. She opened the door wider. “Her Grace is nearly ready, Your Grace.”

Daisy closed her eyes and stayed seated in front of her mirror. She wasn’t ready. Wouldn’t be for maybe
three
hundred years.

“Daisy?”

She felt the callused hand on her bare shoulder, felt the duke’s fingers tighten slightly, felt his thumb brush across her flesh. Her body quivered.

Not three hundred years, Daisy. Today. You’ll marry him today. Ready or not. Here you go
.

She opened her eyes and stared at the man and woman in the mirror. He looked very little like the barbarian she had met—could it have been a mere week ago? Neither did he look civilized. Oh, he wore the trappings, all right. His formal black coat was carefully tailored to fit massive shoulders, and his pristine white cravat was perfectly folded at his throat. A gold brocade waistcoat showed off his flat stomach and tapering black trousers revealed from whence he got his height. He was the epitome of an English gentleman. But it was all an illusion.

The eyes gave him away. And the hands.

He did nothing to hide his feelings, and his gray eyes were heavy-lidded and dark with desire. She knew a savage smoldered behind the careful facade of civilized man. She had seen him leash his passion in the gallery. Had felt his body tremble with need. Had heard his heart thunder.

She felt everything he was feeling through the touch of his hands, which couldn’t lie. The moment his fingertips came to rest on her shoulders, they told her that he was anxious and excited. She knew for a fact the callused hands that touched her so gently had killed many men. For her they were tender, coaxing. They told her she was desired. And they were impatient. He wanted her now.

She had called him barbarian. Savage. Uncivilized. He was all of those, but something more. He was a person searching, as she was, for answers to questions that seemed to have no answer. He had survived and become a man in the face of terrible calamity, but at a very dear cost. He had learned to doubt, to suspect and distrust women, to be cynical, sarcastic, and scornful of the fair sex. He would never be an easy man to love.

Not that love was a part of their bargain. Or ever would be. But there were moments when she found him lovable. Times when he allowed her to see his confusion, his perplexity about his birth and his birthright. He was a man who felt deeply, the pain and the passion. He could also be a man of grace and mercy, as she had learned with his rescue of the trapped Hepplewhite boy. Despite everything, he was capable of love. His devotion to his son proved that.

Yet Daisy felt a rising sense of panic, almost hysteria,
as her wedding drew near. The source of her distress was easily defined. She wanted to love and be loved but was about to marry a man who not only didn’t want her love, but also had absolutely no intention of giving his.

Daisy released a shaky breath.

“What brought that on?” Nicholas whispered in her ear.

Daisy pushed back the fear. Nobody said noble sacrifices were easy. She managed to smile. “I was just wondering how all this will turn out.”

“And not seeing a very rosy picture, I presume.”

“More like stinkweed and brambles.”

The duke’s smile flashed and just as quickly disappeared. “We can’t know the future, Daisy.”

“No, but if one sees a high cliff, one can make the decision not to jump off,” she replied with acerbity.

The duke’s smile returned, and his hands tightened briefly on her shoulders. “That’s my girl. I feel a lot better knowing you don’t have any illusions about this marriage.” He used his hands to urge her onto her feet. “Come on, Daisy. No more stalling. It’s time to go.”

Thompson’s face remained rigid, as befitted a duke’s butler, as he opened the front door for them, but his eyes smiled. “May I offer my congratulations, Your Grace,” he said to the duke.

“You may, Thompson. I’m a very lucky man.”

“And my best wishes to you, Your Grace,” Thompson said to Daisy.

“Thank you, Thompson.”
I’m going to need them
.

Nicholas was delighted that the sun had decided to shine on his wedding day, and smiled to show his pleasure as he helped Daisy into the carriage that
would take them to the parish church. Colin rode alongside the carriage on Buck.

Once seated across from Daisy inside the coach, Nicholas took time to admire her at his leisure. She kept her eyes glued out the window, supposedly watching the countryside pass them by, which gave him a chance to peruse her.

She was wearing a pale mint-green satin gown that was cut low enough to reveal a tantalizing swell of bosom. He had noticed in her bedroom that it had a row of cloth-covered buttons that ran from her nape to just below her waist. He imagined himself kissing his way down her back as he undid them one by one.

“You look very beautiful, Daisy.”

Her head jerked back around so she was facing him. Her face had been rosy since the moment he entered her room, but now two distinct red patches appeared on her cheeks.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised at the compliment,” he said. “You must know how you look.”

“Tony never …” She stopped, aware of the breach of etiquette in mentioning her late husband in the presence of her future one. “Actually, I haven’t received that many compliments. I think my hair—”

He reached over and captured a handful of the curls that lay on her shoulders. “Your hair is lovely. Look how the sun turns it into copper in my hand.”

She reached up to free herself and ended up holding his hand. He twined his fingers in hers, refusing to allow her to escape.

“Nicholas, please,” she said. “Don’t pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“That you care. I know you don’t. All these compliments make me uncomfortable. I would rather we got through this with some decorum.”

Nicholas withdrew his hand from hers. “Very well, my dear. If you prefer, we can ride in silence.”