The Inheritance (27 page)

Meanwhile, she had decided to look on the bright side of things. She was married to the duke. She had nearly nine months to convince him to stay at Severn. And she had the authority, as the duke’s wife, to instigate some of the changes that would make Severn more profitable. She intended to do exactly that as her second, more volatile project in the duke’s absence.

For this job, she enlisted Colin’s help.

“I want to speak to each of the nine tenants about changing his crop from wheat to oats or some other grain that is less competitive with American imports,” Daisy explained. “I’d like you to go with me.”

“Will they accept me as a surrogate for my father?” Colin asked.

Daisy immediately perceived his problem. “The tenants won’t hold your birth against you, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s more likely they’ll shun you as a foreigner,” she said with a grin. “But since the duke would receive the same treatment, you needn’t feel slighted.”

Colin grinned. “In that case, I’ll be glad to go with you.”

Daisy had visited each of the tenants several times over the past year for various reasons. To see how work on the slate roofs was coming, to encourage a tenant to send a child to the new school, to urge a tenant to implement use of the new machinery, or to see a newborn babe. She was friendly without being familiar. She accepted the distance they preserved, and which society demanded, between their world and hers.

Colin ignored the distinction of class and greeted each tenant as friend, shaking hands and charming them with his smile. Daisy watched in awe as he eased his way into each household. She realized that Colin was a far better ambassador than the duke himself ever would have been. Joe Revere would never had relaxed enough to laugh in the duke’s presence. Clark Peters would never have invited the duke in for a mug of ale. James Johnson’s daughter, Sally, would never have flirted with the duke. Or
maybe she would have, Daisy thought, as she watched the girl’s shameless antics with Colin.

Daisy and Colin were riding cross country from the Johnsons’ cottage to Squire Willingham’s more substantial two-story brick house when Colin pulled his mount to a halt.

Daisy quickly brought her horse to a stop beside him. “What’s the matter?”

She stared at Colin, whose gaze seemed transfixed on the countryside. She tried to spy whatever it was that had caught his attention, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Colin? Why did you stop?”

“I just had an idea.”

Colin debated whether he should share it with her. He had suddenly realized what might make living at Severn more appealing to his father. But he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to encourage his father to stay in England. It would mean they would spend the rest of their lives separated by an ocean.

The child in Colin was frightened of losing his father. The emerging man knew it was selfish to cling to a parent he no longer needed in the same way. In fact, he looked forward to setting out on his own.

He would miss his father if they were apart, but since coming to England he had seen how his father looked at Severn—and Daisy. He knew that leaving England was going to be much more difficult for his father than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

Colin made a quick decision. He turned to Daisy with a mischievous grin on his face. “You want my father to stay here in England, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly, if cautiously.

“I have an idea how you can get him to do it.”

“I’m all ears,” Daisy said.

“Cattle.”

“What about cattle?”

“My father isn’t a farmer, never has been and never will be,” Colin said. “But he knows cattle. We’ve been running a herd of longhorns at our ranch in Texas. This land is perfect for cattle. And horses,” he added for good measure. “Some of the land could be used for oats and hay—feed for the stock—and you could sell whatever was left over in the marketplace, since those crops aren’t affected by competition from America. What do you think?”

“Would your father allow such a thing?”

“He’s not here to tell us no.”

“Are you suggesting we buy cattle without his permission and put them on Severn land?”

Colin shook his head. “I’m suggesting
you
buy cattle and put them on Severn land.”

Daisy grinned. “That’s a positively inspired idea!” Her grin faded. “Except I know absolutely nothing about cattle. I wouldn’t know what kind to get, or how many, and my tenants know nothing about how to take care of cattle.”

“They don’t know how to farm oats or sugar beets, either, but you were going to ask them to learn. Why not have them learn how to herd cattle instead?”

“Who’s going to teach them?” Daisy demanded.

“I suppose I can until Pa returns.”

“If he returns.”

“He’ll be back,” Colin said.

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen how he looks at you when he thinks nobody’s watching.”

Daisy turned to stare at Colin. She didn’t ask for an explanation of what he meant. She had seen for
herself how Nicholas looked at her. With desire. And with hunger. Daisy didn’t trust those emotions. They had nothing to do with caring, only with sex.

But Colin’s idea appealed to her. She was for anything that could entice Nicholas to stay in England. Because if he stayed, the future was filled with possibilities.

“How would you like to go shopping with me, Colin?”

“What are we going to buy?”

“Cattle.”

The duke was back.

Word spread quickly among the servants, and Daisy heard it from the gardener as she was strolling in the rose garden behind the house. Her heart began to thump a little faster, and she had to force herself to keep walking along the gravel path, rather than look for someplace to hide.

There was nothing she could do to escape him. If she were truthful, she didn’t want to. She felt anxious about how he would react to the changes she had made in his plans for Severn, but that too had already been done and couldn’t be undone before he discovered it.

He had been gone for two weeks. The wedding celebration was scheduled for this evening. The house was decorated with bowls of roses from the gardens of Severn, and a wide variety of savory dishes were being prepared. Daisy had come into the garden to seek some peace and quiet before the hectic evening to come.

She wondered whether Nicholas would seek her out, or whether he would wait for her to return to the house. She bent to sniff a brilliant red rose on a
bush she had planted when she married Tony. It had bloomed each year, bearing fruit, as she had not.

“I was told I’d find you here.”

Daisy jerked upright. She would recognize that voice anywhere. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

She had always known he was a dangerous man. His gray eyes were colder than she had ever seen them. His face was gaunt, as though he hadn’t eaten or slept. He moved with the grace of a predator, and his muscles seemed tense, ready to spring into action. It gave her no comfort to know she was his likely quarry.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” she said.

“I almost didn’t.”

“Where did you go?” she asked, because it seemed safer to keep him talking than to face him in silence.

“London.”

She wanted to ask whether he had found a mistress there, whether he had seen the sights, whether he had sold Severn. All that came out was “Oh.”

“I thought of you while I was gone.”

She was startled into looking up at him. “I don’t see how you could have missed me. There’s a lot to do in London.”

“Why did you run?”

Daisy turned aside from the wrath she could hear in his voice, from the threat she could feel in his body. Trembling, she reached for a rose and stabbed herself with a thorn. She gasped and brought her finger to her mouth, to suck away the pearl of blood.

Before she could do so, the duke grasped her wrist. He was hurting her, but she refused to tell him so. She met his gaze and stood her ground. Slowly, never taking his eyes off her, he raised her hand to
his mouth and sipped at her finger until the blood was gone.

Daisy felt the reverberation of his touch all the way up her arm and back down the length of her body. It was as if he were sucking her soul out along with her blood. She forced herself to breathe as naturally as possible and cursed the corset that made it impossible to do even that.

She wanted to jerk away, but knew he would not let her go. “What are you going to do now, Your Grace?” she taunted. “I can guarantee that every servant at Severn is watching you at this moment.”

He raised a sardonic brow. “Is that supposed to keep you safe?”

“If you want to keep their goodwill, you’ll let me go.”

“What if I don’t give a damn about their goodwill?”

Daisy’s heart skipped a beat and fought its way up to her throat seeking escape. She swallowed it back down again. “I suggest you rethink the matter, Your Grace,” Daisy said in the calmest voice she could muster.

He took a step closer, and it was all Daisy could do to hold her ground. His hand threaded through the one he held and angled it behind her back. Then he used the slightest bit of pressure to pull her close so that she could feel the heat of him and the quiver that ran through him as their bodies touched.

His other hand tunneled into her hair, forcing out pins that dropped onto the gravel walk.

“May I remind you the servants are watching?”

“Let them watch.”

His mouth covered hers possessively, demanding
a response. He spread his legs and forced her between them until she could feel the hard length of him, the proof that he wanted her.

She hadn’t planned on fighting back. But he had frightened her, and like any trapped animal, she was desperate. She bit his tongue until she tasted blood.

He jerked her head back at a painful angle. His gaze was feral, his jaw clenched. “So, my kitten has sharp teeth.” He slowly licked his blood from the corner of her mouth.

“Nicholas. Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this.”

She saw something in his eyes, a moment of doubt. Then it was gone, replaced by cynicism and revulsion. “You’re no different from any other woman,” he said in a guttural voice. “Selfish. Greedy. And dishonest.”

“Unfair! Untrue! And when did I ever lie to you?”

“We had a bargain, ma’am. I would marry you. And you would sleep in my bed. Or had you forgotten that?”

“I—”

He didn’t give her a chance to make excuses—not that she had any—but continued inexorably with his accusations.

“Where were you on our honeymoon, my dear? With your husband? No. You came running home to Severn. Well, enjoy it while you may,” he hissed. “In nine months it will all belong to someone else!”

Daisy cried out in pain, because he had wounded her where she was most vulnerable. “You can’t sell!”

His mouth cut off her cry of protest, and his hand came up to force her jaws to open for his tongue. “Don’t bite me again,” he warned. “Or you’ll regret it.”

She believed him. And opened her mouth for him.

Daisy could have—and would have—resisted force. But he didn’t ravage, he coaxed. He didn’t plunder, he cajoled. He groaned deep in his throat as his tongue searched her mouth, seeking the sweetness there. She felt her blood begin to sing, felt the heat pool in her belly. She was furious with him, and he hated her. Yet she could feel his hunger, and it fed her own.

Daisy’s free hand slipped up to the duke’s nape and held his mouth against her own. Her body arched into his until her breasts flattened against his chest. She felt his heart pounding against her own, felt him gasping for air as his mouth slid from her lips to her throat. She moaned when he increased the suction of his mouth against her skin and she realized if he didn’t stop soon she would have a mark there. Again.

Daisy was beyond caring. Beyond thinking.

“Pa. Welcome back, Pa.”

Daisy heard the voice and wished it would go away. It returned, louder, more irksome.

“You’ve got quite an audience, Pa. Maybe you’d like to finish this in the house.”

Suddenly she was standing alone. Her eyes wouldn’t focus, and it took her a second to realize where she was. And what she had been doing.

“I’ll … uh … wait for you in the library, Pa,” Colin said. Then they were alone again.

But not quite alone. A surreptitious glance revealed the truth of Colin’s words. The gardener was hoeing not ten rows away. John Coachman had found a reason to walk one of the horses nearby. Mrs. Motherwell was hanging some sheets on the
line. And Jane was peering at her from an upstairs window.

Daisy was mortified. She had made a complete spectacle of herself. Thanks to the duke.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” she hissed at him.

“Not yet,” he said in a raw voice. “But I will be tonight.”

“If you dare lay a hand on me—”

He grasped her wrist, which was where they had started when he arrived. “You’re my wife. A fact I understand we’ll be confirming to the neighborhood tonight with a party. I suggest you come here and welcome me home the way a good wife should. Or else.”

“The Duke of Severn doesn’t subject his wife to public displays of affection,” Daisy retorted.