by Lisa Plumley
“I hated it!” she confessed, before she could lose her nerve. “I didn’t feel…a part of it. I almost didn’t feel as if it were really happening to me. Doesn’t that sound strange?” Feeling ashamed, yet determined to be honest with Owen, she said, “Even now, when it’s months in the past, I can’t make myself believe it happened. Yet I have proof that it did happen. I have proof so obvious, even I can’t deny it any longer.”
In an effort to make light of her situation, Daisy smiled. She cradled her belly, feeling unexpectedly heartened by the gesture. “The truth is, I let myself be forced into something that was regrettably wrong. I let myself be fooled, lured by my dreams for the future and my hope that someone—anyone!—would love me. So when someone truly did seem to love me—”
“You are eminently lovable, Daisy. You are,” Owen insisted with his usual fidelity. “Anyone would love you.”
Except me, she imagined him saying. I’ll never love anyone the way I loved my wife…the way I loved Élodie’s mother.
The realization made Daisy feel even sadder just then. Who would love her child’s mother? Most likely, no one at all. After everything she’d done, Daisy could hardly expect anyone to love her truly, least of all a decent man whom she’d want to be with.
Faced with that awful truth, she made herself go on talking about Conrad. Now that she’d begun, she needed to finish. Also, more than anyone else, Owen had a right to know everything that had brought her here. He was the one who, with matter-of-fact acceptance and, at times, with almost paternal enthusiasm, had helped her accept what had once seemed unimaginable. A baby. Her baby. Borne alone, but no less beloved.
“When someone truly did seem to love me,” she said again, “I didn’t consider whether I loved him in return. That almost didn’t matter. Not then. Things were moving so quickly.” Daisy swallowed hard, suddenly swamped by memories she longed to forget—memories of everything that had happened with Conrad, before he’d grown so cold with her. “I wanted to keep up with it all. I wanted to belong, to be right, to step carefully and not make any mistakes at all. So I just closed my eyes—”
She broke off, instinctively shying away from the memories. There were too many of them, most of them bleak. Conrad on top of her. Conrad invading her. Conrad holding her in place so she couldn’t move away. Afterward, he’d always blamed Daisy for having ignited his “coarser instincts.” He’d always left her as quickly as he could. It was true that Conrad had desired her, Daisy realized, but he hadn’t wanted to. It was no wonder, then, that he’d found so many faults in her—more every day.
Unfortunately, that didn’t mean some of them weren’t real.
“I just closed my eyes,” Daisy repeated, “and went along. I didn’t think. And then it was over. And now… I’m alone.”
“You’re not alone.” Appearing surpassingly saddened by the fact that she’d say so, Owen shook his head. His gaze searched hers, full of compassion and…respect? “You’ll never be alone.”
“Not now!” Daisy laughed, again rubbing her belly. “Not anymore! I quite like that idea, actually. This little person will be with me always, mine to love and cherish.” She sighed. “I know I’ve been behaving peculiarly about the baby, Owen. But it was all so much to take in, at first. It still is.”
Soberly, Owen nodded. He remained silent, brow furrowed.
“But the more I learn to accept my baby, the more at peace I feel.” Gently, Daisy touched Owen’s chest. She flattened her palm over his heart, feeling unduly reassured by that steady thump thump beneath her hand. “I owe that peace to you, for being so insistent—for not judging me or shaming me or pressuring me. If you had been anyone else…I don’t know if I could have managed. So, thank you.”
Gruffly, Owen cleared his throat. He nodded.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” she added, “but I truly—”
“Stop. Just…stop.” Roughly, Owen muttered a swearword. He raked his hand through his hair. He stared at Daisy in apparent frustration, then lowered his hand to hers. With that same thump thump for accompaniment, he laced their fingers together over his heart. “I didn’t mean that you’ll never be alone because you’ll have your baby with you, Daisy. I meant that you’ll never be alone because, if you wanted, you would always have me.”
In surprise, Daisy gazed up at him. After all the things she’d just confessed, she couldn’t imagine…this.
“Not for kissing,” Owen insisted. “Not for possessing or promising or cooking or cleaning. But just for help, if you needed it. Just for being there, for you. I know I don’t have much to offer—not enough by far. But I—” He swore again, still looking pained. “Damnation. Just when I need my hell-fired scoundrelly ways, they’ve up and deserted me! I can tell by your face that you don’t know what I mean. I’m not good with words. Not anymore. Renée used to say I could talk the blue out of the sky if I tried, but it’s obvious now that I’ve lost all that.”
“Does this mean,” Daisy asked in a small voice, “that you don’t want to kiss me anymore? Because you just said—”
“Kissing? Kissing is what you remember from all that?”
“It’s what you mentioned first,” Daisy pointed out, quite reasonably, she thought, under the circumstances. “So, does it?”
He shook his head. “I loved kissing you. You’re fortunate I stopped.” He glanced around. “If we weren’t in this stable—”
“Does it mean,” she went on before he could elaborate more naughtily, “that all you want from me is cooking and cleaning?”
“No! It doesn’t mean that.” Another curse word. “See? I can’t explain myself. I’m trying to be honorable, Daisy!” He gazed at her. I’m trying not to be like Conrad, she fancied she glimpsed in his mulish expression. “I like your cooking—and I like those jumble cookies—but I like you more. Much more.”
“I like you, too,” she admitted shyly. “Ever so much.”
For a moment, all they did was look at each other—almost as though they’d reached a new accord…and a new hope, too. But as relieved as Daisy was by that fact, some problems still loomed. The tiny space dividing them might as easily have been a gulf of several miles. She couldn’t fathom how to cross it—how to travel from their flawed and broken pasts to a whole new future.
All she knew was that she wanted to try. And in that moment, just for an instant, Daisy dared to dream that Owen did too. That if she asked him to, he would stay there by her side.
After all, she’d already told him all the worst things about herself. She’d practically thrown her flaws and foibles in his face, where he couldn’t refuse to see them—where he couldn’t close his eyes to the truth, the way Daisy had been doing for so long now. And, to her amazement, even after hearing all that, Owen hadn’t turned away from her. He hadn’t so much as made a moue of disgust or shown an eyelash flicker of disapproval.
Couldn’t that mean there was hope for them?
“That’s why it kills me to know how Conrad Parish treated you,” Owen said, breaking into her thoughts. “Love doesn’t have to be that way. I guess…your man didn’t realize that.”
“My man?” Startled, Daisy blinked. She had never, in a million years, thought to consider Conrad hers. Nor had she wanted to. Feeling immeasurably lightened by her talk with Owen, she finally cast off all thoughts of her tour manager. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” she said, “the only man I’m thinking about is the man I’m looking at right now…with both eyes open.”
She’d had enough of going through her life with her eyes closed, afraid to speak out and fearful of making a mistake.
From here on, Daisy promised herself, she would stay alert. She would keep her eyes open and see things as they really were.
“He’s a mighty fine man, too,” she elaborated teasingly, still gazing at Owen. “He’s strong and kind and handsome—”
“You already said that one.”
“—and if he doesn’t kiss me again soon, I can’t imagine—” Swiftly, Owen d
id kiss her. Ardently yet tenderly, he pulled her into his arms once more. He gazed down at her, truly seeing her in a way Daisy didn’t think he had before. Then, just when she feared he would change his mind, Owen brought his mouth to hers. His kiss was sweet, fraught with emotion and promise and, she fancied further, filled with the beginnings of love.
“See?” she said when their kiss was finished, feeling flushed and tingly and oddly optimistic. “Your wife, Renée, was right about you. I think you could still talk the blue from the sky—and make it happy to have fallen away, besides.” Daisy stepped a little closer. This time, she dared to put both hands on Owen’s shoulders, just as though they belonged there. “You might be a scoundrel, but you’re—” mine “—an admirable one.”
“Renée would not have agreed with you about that. She would have said there’s no such thing as an admirable scoundrel.”
“Well.” Daisy shrugged, not caring. “I’m right, so there’s no point arguing about it. You know how stubborn I can be.”
“Aw, Daisy.” Seeming almost as affected by their coming together as she was, Owen gazed at her. He stroked his thumb over her cheek, then sighed. “If only I could be that certain.”
“You can be. I’ve just decreed it.”
“But,” Owen began, typically obstinate, “my past is—”
“In the past!” Daisy declared. She needed to make him understand. “It’s over with. You can leave it behind, just the way I’ve done…only without a daredevil’s train ride and a coat full of contraband earnings.” She grinned, feeling herself turn downright carefree. “Besides, how could I hold against you all the things you’ve done?” Boldly, she hugged him. “They’re exactly the things that have made you the man you are today.”
“That’s the trouble. You deserve more,” Owen alleged. “I’m going to make sure you get it, Daisy. I promise, I am. All the things I don’t have… I’ll make damn certain they’re yours.”
If he meant to improve himself, she couldn’t comprehend how. “Will that include a lifetime supply of cussing?”
“I’m not joking!” But Owen laughed, all the same. He looked at her, then shook his head. He laughed in a way that made Daisy’s heart turn over with reckless glee. “I mean what I say,” Owen said as he sobered, squeezing her hand in his. “I’m going to give you everything I can. Everything you need. Everything.”
“But all I want is you,” Daisy told him. There was no point holding back now. “Can you promise to give me that?”
In answer, Owen shook his head with—she assumed—vexation at her doggedness. Well, maybe she was being a mite bossy. Hoping to improve her rapidly devolving manners, she softened her tone. “Will you please give me you?” Daisy tried. “Please?”
At that, Owen groaned. A heartbeat later, she was in his arms again, being thoroughly kissed. Giddily, Daisy clapped her arms around him. She kissed him back, triumphantly and joyously, feeling that she’d finally made a sound decision at last.
Trusting Owen was right. It felt right. It was right.
It wasn’t until later that night, lying snugly and solitarily in Owen’s bed, remembering the exhilarating events of the day, that Daisy realized something she’d overlooked. Something important. Owen hadn’t promised to give her himself, it occurred to her. But he’d done it anyway. Hadn’t he? Yes. He’d kissed her. In his kiss, he’d shown her his caring. And wasn’t that just as good as a promise? Better even, owing to its forthrightness?
Assuring herself that it was, Daisy rolled over.
Then she realized something else: she was doing it again. She was closing her eyes. She was managing her life based solely on her own assumptions. What she needed were facts—and there was only one way to get those. With her time in Morrow Creek so limited, she couldn’t afford to dally, either.
Slipping out of bed, Daisy adjusted her borrowed lacy nightgown. She smoothed down her hair. She took a deep breath.
She plodded into the kitchen. She found Owen on his pallet in the semidarkness, his arms cradling his head as he gazed upward into the night. His face was somber, his hair tousled.
“Daisy! What’s wrong?” He sat up, all readiness and flexing muscles. Instantly alert, he looked at her. “Are you all right?”
“No.” Heart pounding, she shook her head. “I need you.”
“I’m right here.” He frowned. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“No. I mean…” She stepped nearer. “I need you.”
“Need me? For what?” Appearing confused, Owen rose. He took her hand, certain about her. “Just name it, and it’s yours.”
“Fine.” Another deep breath. Her knees knocked. She hoped he’d understand what she was asking for. “Please, Owen,” Daisy said. “Will you please give me you? Truly, this time?”
Then, she knew, if he couldn’t be with her later, at least she’d have known love once. At least she’d have felt it…once.
And just when Daisy began to feel certain that Owen would refuse, just when she began composing a dithering apology in her head, Owen squeezed her hand. His fingers, she noticed, seemed to be trembling. Could a big, strong man like Owen truly be so affected? By her? By them? By the two of them, together?
Evidently—amazingly—he was. He swallowed hard, then nodded.
“I already said I’d give you anything,” Owen told her. “But I’ll be damned if I thought you’d ever be asking for me.”
His humbleness was endearing. His smile…was wicked.
So was Daisy’s, she discerned, when she gave his hand a pull, urging them both toward the bedroom. “Only you. Just you.”
Forever, she added silently, wishing it could be true.
“Then for tonight,” Owen said, “that’s what you’ll have.”
He scooped her off her feet, into his arms. Whooping with surprise, Daisy felt herself being kissed into quietness.
“Shh,” Owen said, holding her securely. “Mind Élodie.”
“I will!” Daisy whispered. “I’m so sorry!”
But she wasn’t sorry for this. She wasn’t sorry for being with Owen. She wasn’t sorry for being held by him. She wasn’t sorry—but she was surprised—to feel tears spring to her eyes, unstoppably, from the moment when Owen carried her over his bedroom threshold…as tenderly as he would have a bride on her wedding night. It was as close as Daisy would likely come to enjoying one of those, she knew. Its sweetness made her sigh.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being you, Owen.”
“If it’s brought me you, then that’s all I could ever want,” he told her with raw honesty. In the dimness, his eyes looked grave and warm. “I aim to do my best to show you that.”
Owen shouldered the door closed behind them. He gazed down at Daisy with open affection, then set her on her feet.
“There.” Scandalously, his grin flashed, wider than ever before. Just for an instant, Daisy caught sight of the fun-loving scoundrel he kept hidden away beneath his workaday cares. “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping much,” Owen said in a devilish tone, sliding his fingers seductively along her arm, “because this could take a long, long while between us.”
“I wish it could go on forever,” Daisy said honestly.
And even though she knew it couldn’t go on forever between them—even though Owen, for all his kindnesses, knew she’d be leaving soon and had never asked her to stay—all he did was nod.
Then, gently, Owen pulled Daisy into his arms and proceeded to dissolve the miles between them…kiss by kiss, smile by smile, caress by lingering caress, until there was nothing left but togetherness—and a love that, in the dreaminess of the moonlight, felt just as real to Daisy as real could ever be.
Chapter Twenty-Two
If Owen had needed any more proof that he was still a scoundrel at heart, all he had to do was roll over in his wide, rope-sprung bed, open his eyes…and look with wonder at the woman who had shared that bed with him for the past few nights.
Daisy. Even watching her sleep, Owen
felt awestruck by her. She was beautiful and kind and good—and she wanted to be with him. With him. Was there anything more wondrous than that?
Owen didn’t think so. Not that that excused his behavior; he knew it did not. When Daisy had come to him, he should have refused her. He should have—with his greater experience and knowledge of the things that went on between men and women—recognized that Daisy had most likely been lonely. He should have offered to keep her company—chastely and responsibly.
But Owen hadn’t done that. Instead, when his rascally nature had come to the fore—just as Renée had always warned him it would—he had instantly given in. Like the most love-struck and lustiest of grooms, he’d carried Daisy across the threshold of his bedroom without a single qualm. Then he’d loved her, as well as he could, with a vigor and a reverence that amazed him.
In his lifetime, Owen had seen many things. But he’d never seen a sight like the one Daisy had presented, as she’d stood before him, wearing only her lacy nightgown, and implored him.
Will you please give me you? she’d asked.
To put it plainly, Owen had been unable to say no.
He didn’t regret it, either. He couldn’t. Propping his head on his pillow now, gazing at Daisy in the morning sunshine, he couldn’t regret a single one of the nights they’d spent together. He’d loved them all. He’d loved holding Daisy in his arms and showing her how close true closeness could be. He’d loved kissing her, laughing with her, opening himself gratefully to her in the darkness that had cradled them both. He’d loved hearing her sigh, seeing her smile, knowing he’d pleased her. He had pleased her, too. Owen couldn’t help feeling proud of that. And happy, too. To judge by all that Daisy had told him, she’d never known real love before—not with that selfish dolt Conrad Parish. Not with any man. And maybe it was wrong for Owen to do what he’d been doing—to love her without right or lasting responsibility or even a spoken promise between them. But Daisy had wanted his love. Owen had wanted to give it. And even more than that, he’d wanted Daisy to know what it meant to be fully loved and properly cared for. At least for a while.
