Page 51 of Daisy and the Duke
There was beat of silence, and then Tristan said, “I think you’re right, love.”
He proceeded to make her very happy indeed, using his hands and lips to offer several demonstrations that Daisy breathlessly confirmed were much better in real life than in the thin paper pages of the forbidden books.
At her insistence, she reenacted a few illustrations that she’d been particularly intrigued by, and Tristan was more than pleased to allow her to do so, judging by the way he moaned as she stroked and then licked him.
“If you want more books, Daisy, I’ll buy them,” he panted, his body stretched beneath her as she ran her hands along his torso, very much enjoying the way he felt under her fingertips.
“That’s very sweet,” she said, “but I think that we won’t need them. Just looking at you gives me all sorts of ideas.” Was it possible that he grew even harder at her words? Maybe. He certainly felt hard in her hand as she explored that part of him once again.
After they both couldn’t stand waiting any longer, Tristan laid Daisy on her back and drew her legs around his hips. He braced himself on his hands, looking down at her with both lust and tenderness, and a little doubt, in his face.
“You’re certain?” he asked. “It can be over now. You don’t have to take this step.”
“I want all of you,” she declared, her eyes locked with his. “If I wanted to leave, Tris, I’d have done it already. I’m staying because I want to be with you.”
After that, what was there to say? All talk ceased for a short, breathless while as the two of them indulged in an inevitable, inexpressibly sweet joining. Daisy had questions before, but now—just for a moment—all her questions were answered. She belonged with Tristan, and he belonged with her.
There was only the tiniest flash of discomfort, but it was gone in a moment. Tristan went slowly, careful of her, asking if she needed him to hold still to let her adjust.
She wanted to not stop, ever. But he was right and she did need to take a few deep breaths as she learned how to accept his body in hers. He kissed her over and over, telling her that she was everything to him. Daisy had never been anyone’s everything, and the thought alone nearly made her swoon.
Despite the newness of her feelings, he knew exactly how to bring her to the peak of pleasure, using his whole body to draw out the experience into a shivering, shimmering dream. When the joy became overwhelming, Daisy grabbed a pillow on the bed to muffle her cry of completion. Tristan growled with satisfaction at a job well done, and then took the pillow from her, stifling his own shout as he withdrew from her and finished on the bedsheets a second later, his breath ragged as he slowly recovered his senses.
“A near thing,” he said at last, as if to himself. Then he moved to lie next to her, kissing her deeply. “Never stay away from me so long again, Daisy. In fact, never leave again. I ought to keep you here in this bed forever.”
Daisy stared at him with widening eyes, still recovering and not sure what he meant.
He seemed to realize the implication of his words, for he said hastily, “That’s not what I meant, Daisy. You’re not made to be someone’s mistress.”
He moved to hold her, his arms big and comforting after the havoc he raised in her body. Daisy sighed, slowly returning to reality. The truth was, she didn’t want to leave his bed. If that was the only way she could have him, perhaps she could…no. It was one thing to consider being a man’s mistress when she was among strangers. But here, where she knew the whole village and all the neighbors? She’d never live down the shame of it.
As she looked over the room, still recovering from the intensity of their lovemaking, her eye was caught by a smoke-scarred pebble on the nightstand. It was such an odd thing to see there—a homely, lumpy object in this refined space—that Daisy leaned over and picked it up, rolling it in her hands.
“Why do you have this little rock by your bed?” she asked. “Does it mean something?”
“Yes,” he said bitterly. “It’s my reminder that I can’t trust anyone, and that I am God’s fool.”
Daisy looked at him, alarmed. “What do you mean? That’s a horrible thing to say! Can you not trust me?”
He sighed, taking the stone from her. “Of course I can trust you. I just meant that…never mind. I don’t want to talk about it. The truth will come out soon enough, probably, unless a miracle occurs. And I do not believe in miracles.”
Daisy had experienced a miracle that very day, with the appearance of her magical costume. But she suspected Tristan was in no mood to hear it.
“Come outside with me,” he said suddenly. “The fireworks will start soon, and…and I’d prefer to see them with you.”
She hesitated, thinking that it would be too easy for someone to see her plainly. But then her eyes lighted on the mask. Of course! She was completely safe, disguised and known only as Lady Wildwood. When else would Daisy ever have the chance to see fireworks burst over the pond at Lyondale, up on the balcony as if she were the lady of the manor…and in a beautiful gown?
Tristan helped her to dress once more, his touch driving her to wish that he’d take the gown off again immediately. But they were soon properly attired again. Daisy’s face was concealed behind her mask, while Tristan left his on a table. The idea that he had deceived anyone from knowing his real identity was laughable.
Her heart still unsteady, Daisy let him lead her to the wide balcony that opened from his suite. It was paved with stone tiles and held a few potted plants in the corners, but was otherwise empty. She walked to the stone rail and looked over the pond, where the rest of the guests were gathering along the shore at the direction of the servants.
“They should start any moment,” said Tristan. “Jack promised he’d oversee the lighting of them—it was his idea anyway.”
Tristan let a long breath out as he stood beside her, resting his hands on the wide stone rail. She looked over and saw his face in profile, anxiety etched in its lines once again.
“Tristan,” she began. “Is everything all right?”
He closed his eyes briefly, then straightened up and smiled at her. “Yes. I confess I was nervous about that little speech earlier tonight. I half expected them to throw tomatoes at me and tell me I wasn’t a real lord.”
