If You Give A Girl A Viscount ib-4

by Kieran Kramer

“It was indeed.” Mr. King’s handshake was firm but quick.

  A little too quick, Charlie thought, to be considered entirely sporting.

  He looked over his shoulder—Daisy was still in front of the byre, her hands clasped beneath her chin. Cassandra stood beside her, both her hands resting on one hip, a casual pose that belied her taut expression. Daisy jumped up and down on her little stump and waved again.

  He raised a hand to her and grinned, glad he was worth more than a meager hop. He merited full-fledged bouncing, didn’t he?

  Take that, Mr. King, he thought, remembering that first meeting in the hall at the Keep when Daisy had been so enthusiastic about the man.

  But then a drumbeat called his attention in another direction. It was time to find out who’d done the best job shearing.

  Perdita stood, her fists on her hips.

  The village elder cleared his throat. “The laird has made his choice.”

  Please let me be the winner, Charlie prayed. He really didn’t want to have to buy that round at the village pub.

  He thought of Daisy, at how fresh and real and feisty she was, and felt a keen ache to win the bet he’d made with the other Impossible Bachelors. There was no way he wanted to enter the London Marriage Mart and wed a simpering miss.

  Ever.

  He bowed his head and awaited his fate.

  “The winner is … Lord Lumley!” cried the elder.

  “Aye!” Perdita gave a mighty growl and punched the air with her fist.

  When Charlie raised his head, he found himself grinning from ear to ear.

  He’d won. Thank God.

  He immediately turned around to see Daisy. There she was, smiling at him! She looked a bit strained because Cassandra lingered at her elbow, but that smile lit every corner of his heart.

  The fact that she was happy delighted him no end.

  He winked at her. She blushed, which made him wish he could go over there right now and receive a celebratory kiss.

  Later, her expression said.

  Later, he confirmed with his eyes.

  Which was exactly when Miss Cassandra gave her a lovely little push, causing Daisy to stumble off her stump and teeter backward into a slippery patch, where she landed flat on her rear end into a pool of mud.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Daisy was happy for Charlie. She really was. She said, “I’m happy for Charlie,” through gritted teeth under her breath all night.

  She’d be happy for Charlie if it was the last thing she did. She’d forget what happened to her with Cassandra. She’d forget that Cassandra had been so wicked that she’d pushed Daisy off her stump.

  And she’d forget that when she’d fallen in the mud, tears had come to her eyes and Cassandra had stalked off, laughing.

  Charlie, of course, had been carried off with the crowd of men to the pub. Daisy ran into Castle Vandemere for a quick change of clothes and a long hug from Hester, and wondered why she’d never known there was such a thing as grown people pushing each other.

  Joe had said when both parties did it, it was called wrestling.

  “But when one does it, it’s called spitefulness,” Hester told her.

  Back at the Keep, Daisy decided the only way to get through the evening would be to avoid Cassandra at all costs. She’d think rude thoughts about her. She’d also pity herself and wonder how life would ever get better. And she’d stay busy in the kitchen scrubbing pots so she wouldn’t cry.

  When Charlie returned with the other men to the Keep after an evening’s celebration at the new pub, Daisy was still busy scrubbing pots in the kitchen, but she’d gotten over pitying herself. Hard work tended to do that to a person.

  And it might have helped that when Cassandra had walked by the kitchen an hour ago and seen her scrubbing away, she’d actually put her head in the door and said, “I’m sorry I ruined your ratty gown. Now maybe you’ll be forced to get a decent one.”

  And Daisy had said, “If that’s you trying to be nice, you’re doing a very poor job. Why do you bother with me, Cassandra?”

  Cassandra shrugged.

  Daisy’s heart pounded with fury. “Should I tell you what I’m thinking?”

  “Go ahead,” her new sister said, tossing her head.

  “Very well.” Daisy crossed her arms. “I wish you’d eaten that mud I fell in and gotten sick the same way you and Cousin Roman made me ill by giving me that drugged wine.”

  Cassandra had bitten her lip at that and stalked on.

  Meanwhile, the cooks had made a hearty lamb stew and bread, which they’d kept warm for the men’s—and Perdita’s—return.

  A few rounds of card playing followed, and as usual, Daisy didn’t go to bed until the last guest had retired.

  “I’ve arranged a surprise for you,” Charlie said to her at his bedchamber door. “You deserve it after all your hard work today. And your mishap.”

  “What mishap?”

  “You know.”

  She bit her lip. “Did you see it happen?”

  He nodded.

  “Why didn’t you—”

  “I knew you wouldn’t have wanted me to,” he said.

  She looked down at the ground, remembering that feeling of being covered in mud.

  “You’re right,” she replied with a sigh. If anyone had gotten near her at that point, she would have screamed.

  “I wanted to be with you,” he said. “Honestly. But then I got pulled away, down to the pub. Will you tell me why it happened?”

  “Eventually,” she said.

  He pulled a curl off her forehead.

  “When will I get my surprise?” she whispered.

  “I’m not telling,” Charlie said back, and slipped into his bedchamber. He’d told her he’d linger for twenty minutes and make a bit of noise for Mr. Woo next door before he sneaked upstairs to her bedchamber through the hidden staircase.

  When Daisy entered her room, she saw a lovely copper tub standing before the fire. Curls of steam wafted upward from the water’s surface. A fluffy towel and bar of soap were laid on a chair.

  Charlie, apparently, couldn’t wait. He appeared a few seconds later. “Your bath, my lady.”

  For a moment, neither one of them spoke. A bit of peat on the fire flared, and a log shifted.

  “How wonderful,” Daisy said, feeling out of breath.

  Charlie smiled softly. “You need it after the day you’ve had. But our restrictions still stand.”

  “What restrictions?”

  “If you recall our conversation this morning, you said that we wouldn’t touch each other tonight, and I agreed.”

  Daisy thought back. Or tried to. It was difficult to concentrate when he was so near. “Oh,” she said. “You’re clever, aren’t you?”

  “More desperate than clever, actually.”

  “Desperate for what?” she whispered.

  “For you. It’s why I’m bringing out the screen. If we can’t touch each other, we certainly shouldn’t see each other, either. Much too tempting, don’t you think? And after your bath, we’ll extinguish the candle and take to our own sides of the bed.”

  She gulped. “Yes. You’re right, of course.”

  He pulled out an exotic painted-silk screen from a corner and placed it in front of the tub. “I promise I won’t peek.”

  “Thank you, Charlie,” she said softly, feeling shy of a sudden.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and left her to her ablutions.

  Behind the screen, she could see nothing of him. But she heard him walking about the room. And then she heard him pull up a chair and place a candle on a small table that she knew was not two yards away from her tub.

  “You’ll wait?” she asked him from behind the screen. She was glad he couldn’t see her blush.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ve a good book to occupy my time.”

  “Very well.” Slowly, she untied her ribbons. The fire hissed and crackled. The clock on the mantel ticked slowly. She also heard the flick of pag
es turning as Charlie read his book.

  Her gown fell to the floor. She shivered, even though she didn’t feel cold.

  “Daisy,” Charlie whispered.

  “Y-yes?”

  “You are beautiful, you know.”

  Her breath seemed to stop. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

  And then she realized he must be able to see her figure outlined on the screen by the fire behind her. She tried to look through the screen to see him, but she couldn’t. She could feel him, though. His presence filled the room.

  Carefully, she ascended a little stool and slipped into the tub.

  “Oh, this feels good,” she said.

  “I’m glad,” he answered back.

  She closed her eyes, and for a few minutes, there was nothing but a comfortable quiet. Charlie turning his pages. The fire, lapping at the peat and logs.

  This bath really was what she’d needed. She’d worked hard today. And fought hard, as well. Her limbs ached.

  When she reached for the soap, the sound of water droplets seemed to echo loudly through the room. She ran the soap down her arm. And then the other. And submerged her arms again, reveling in the sensation of warmth and the lavender-scented bar.

  But she no longer heard pages turning.

  She sat for a moment longer.

  “Charlie?” she called softly.

  “Yes?” he replied.

  She laughed. “I—I thought you might have fallen asleep.”

  “No,” he said.

  But his voice sounded almost too serious. Actually, tortured was a better word.

  She blinked in the sudden knowledge that he—

  Well, he was sitting on the other side of the screen, wasn’t he? And he knew she was on this side, stark naked …

  “Charlie,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Can’t you—can’t you come round the screen?”

  There was another long silence.

  “No,” he finally replied.

  “But I want you,” she whispered. “I want what we had last night. And on the Stone Steps.” She waved her hands through the steaming water, making small ripples.

  There was another silence.

  “We still can,” he said. “In a way.”

  She stopped moving her hands through the water. “How?”

  “Simply remember us together. And your body will do the rest.”

  She was intrigued, and without thinking, ran the soap over her breasts. A dart of pleasure flickered between her legs, and she wanted him to come to her.

  So badly.

  “Charlie,” she whispered, hearing the plaintive need in her own voice.

  “I want you, too,” he said. “Very much. But you yourself said we can’t have each other that way tonight.”

  “It’s not fair,” she said.

  “Fair has nothing to do with it. But you can lean back, Daisy, and shut your eyes. Let your body take over.”

  She sighed with frustration—but also with pleasure at the thought of their being together. “What will you do?”

  “The same. But you have to promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “No matter what, you won’t stop imagining until you’re—” He hesitated.

  “Until I’m what?” she asked breathily.

  “Until you’re satisfied,” he said.

  Satisfied.

  She touched her stomach and let her hands reach to the curls between her legs. Charlie had kissed her there three times now. She ached for him to do it again.

  “I—I promise.” She licked her lower lip and felt her legs fall apart.

  “Think of me,” he said again. “And I’ll be wishing I were with you—the way we were last night.”

  She heard his boots come off. And then he tossed his breeches over the top of the screen. And finally, his shirt wound up there, as well.

  “You’re naked,” she whispered.

  “I know.” His voice was rough. “And I’m staying right here. With you. Watching you. Pretend I’m touching you, Daisy.”

  She’d never felt so wanton. Never felt so heavy with desire, immersed as she was in the water, which touched every part of her like a kiss.

  Silence reigned once again, and then she sighed out loud, her breathing coming faster as her hands roamed her body and she thought of Charlie.

  “Are you still watching?” she said.

  “I can’t … I can’t keep my eyes off the screen.”

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  “I want you, too.”

  “I—I’m going to—” And then her body arched like a rainbow over the water. “Charlie,” she moaned as she crested in a wave of sensual pleasure—and sank back down, her mind drifting, even as her body did, cocooned by the warmth of the water and the knowledge that she was discovering new depths—and a tender passion—with her viscount.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A week later, Charlie opened one eye and saw Daisy curled next to him, sleeping peacefully. No wonder she hadn’t woken yet. Yesterday had been another long day with the visitors, a large part of it spent indoors because of rain. And it was followed by another heady night of passion between them which demanded to be sated several times over.

  As if she knew she were being watched by him, Daisy opened her eyes and smiled. “It’s a braw, bricht day, I can tell already,” she said. “It has to be. Tonight’s the ceilidh.”

  When she looked at him then, with all that happiness and hope shining in her eyes, he realized something very important: he loved her. He loved everything about her.

  The knowledge shook him to the core.

  But he couldn’t think about it now. The feeling was too precious. He must savor it alone today. Explore what it meant.

  “As it’s our last day at the Keep,” he said, “I think I’ll go fishing. Alone.”

  “Alone?”

  He nodded. “I have some thinking to do.”

  “About what?”

  He kissed her. “Life, I suppose. And how magical it can be when you’re sleeping with the same beautiful woman every night.”

  Daisy sighed. “I don’t know how I could have survived the past week without our nights together.”

  “You’ve had some shocking news to digest. Who ever would have thought your worst enemy would turn out to be your very own sister?”

  She grinned. “I know. The Fates have a diabolical sense of humor, don’t they? Along those lines, I can’t help thinking it would be perfect if Mr. King proposed to Cassandra tonight. He’d take her away to America. And I’d never have to worry about seeing her again. I suppose I should be sad, as she’s my sister, but I’m not. We’re still not talking. Except for this odd comment she made to me days ago about my needing to buy myself a nicer gown. It wasn’t exactly spiteful sounding. It was almost as if … she wanted me to have a pretty frock.” She bit her lip. “I’m sure I misunderstood her. But there’s a chance I didn’t, of course, and the truth is—I want her to have a pretty frock, too. For tonight. Every woman should look beautiful.”

  “Including yourself,” said Charlie. “Do you have a new gown?”

  “No.”

  Charlie sighed. “You should get one.”

  “Too late,” she said nonchalantly, then sat up on her elbows. Much to Charlie’s delight, she forgot to pull up the covers, exposing her beautiful, pert breasts to the morning light.

  “Oh, dear,” she whispered.

  “Oh, dear, is right,” Charlie answered her. He leaned down and kissed her neck. “Somehow I can’t think about your new sister at the moment. Or your lack of new gown, as much as that dismays me. I want to talk about us. You’ve made me the most creative lover in the world.”

  “Have I?”

  “Indeed you have.” He ran a hand over her silken breast. “We’ve been sleeping together—”

  “We’ve done more than sleep together—”

  “Yes, for over a week now. I believe we win a prize for showing incredibl
e ingenuity and forbearance. You’re as virgin as you ever were.”

  “What’s the prize?”

  He whispered in her ear.

  “Oh, I adore that notion!” She grinned again. “Remember the night we weren’t allowed to touch each other?”

  “How could I forget? It was all your fault, by the way.”

  “What you’re suggesting now is even more torturous!”

  “And you love it.”

  She pulled him closer until they were nose to nose. “I do.”

  It was hard to believe the days had flown by so fast, and their guests appeared to be more enthralled with the Highlands than ever. The village had outdone itself in welcoming their visitors by heaping lavish attention upon them at the Keep, on the hunt, and at the games which followed.

  And through it all, Mr. King had spent every moment he could with Cassandra.

  At the hunt, Mr. King brought home the largest buck, but Cassandra hadn’t appeared to be impressed. He’d also participated in all of the games afterward … the caber tossing, stone lifting, and speed races, and won his share of glory. But Cassandra merely watched all the proceedings with a smug smile and showed no apparent favor to him whatsoever, which only served to pique his interest in her more.

  “Do you think Cassandra favors him?” Daisy asked Charlie now.

  “I think she might. I got my first inkling of that yesterday.”

  Daisy sucked in a breath. “Do you really think so?”

  Charlie shrugged. “She allowed him to walk her home from the village. You know what happened to us on that walk home.”

  Daisy blushed. “The Stone Steps. But surely Cassandra wouldn’t—”

  “Wouldn’t be so … wanton?” He kissed her nose.

  “Yes,” she said, and pushed him playfully away.

  “Well, whatever happened on the way home, she spoke to him all through dinner.”

  Daisy bit her lip. “I really think she likes him.”

  “Did she say much else?”

  “No. Although she blurted out that she thinks he’s very, very rich. What do you think that means?”

  Charlie grinned. “Knowing Cassandra, she means she’s interested in becoming his wife.”

  “I do believe you’re right. So there’s room for hope there. I wonder why she gave up on pursuing you? Ever since our mud escapade, she’s avoided you like the plague.”