Page 9 of Daisy and the Duke
“The headmistress of the school I attended when I was young,” she explained, glad of the distraction. It was rare for her to be so flummoxed by a man. Then again, it was rare for her to be near a man…
By habit, she started walking toward Rutherford Grange, and the man kept pace with her, holding the horse’s lead in one hand.
“To be honest,” he said, “I’m not sure exactly where we are—”
“Oh, we’re at the border between Rutherford Grange and Lyon—” Just then, Daisy stepped into a grass-covered hole, and she stumbled. Before she could fall, the man moved and took her by the arm, pulling her to his side to steady her.
“Careful,” he murmured.
She was too aware of his closeness to reply. Something hot shot through her—a feeling of aliveness that she’d never felt before. His gaze locked with hers, and Daisy leaned nearer, entranced by his crooked, now faintly sad smile.
Then he said, “I am sorry to tell you that your mushrooms are escaping.”
She blinked in utter confusion. “What?”
“Your harvest.” He gestured to the ground.
Daisy looked down to find that she’d been so flummoxed that she’d managed to tilt the basket and spill half her collection out on the ground. He released her, and she crouched immediately to gather them up.
“Oh, no. Stupid goose,” she muttered to herself, echoing her stepmother’s common complaint.
He knelt down to help her, grabbing several that had rolled toward Stormer.
“The mushrooms are for dinner,” Daisy said, brushing the stray hair out of her face as she stood again. Leaning into him like that! What was she thinking? She’d been about to make a fool of herself.
“You must know the area well, to find these whenever you want.”
“Well, I’ve lived here nearly all my life! I could tell you about everything growing at the Grange…except that wouldn’t be very interesting to hear about.” She felt flushed and flustered.
“Why should it not be interesting? I find that most topics are more fascinating when they are explained by someone who truly cares about the subject.”
“Oh, that’s so true,” Daisy agreed, having experienced the same thing herself. “But it’s getting later and I really must get back home, or it will be too late to make use of the mushrooms.”
“How far is home?”
“Less than two miles. I should hurry.”
“Then you must accept a ride. Stormer would barely notice your weight.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. He’s the duke’s horse.”
The man laughed softly. “The duke would insist. I know his mind. Come. I’ll help you up.”
In a blur, Daisy found herself astride the great black horse. The man offered the refilled basket to her, and then swung himself up.
Even with the weight of them both, the horse pranced as if he were totally unburdened. Daisy adjusted to seeing the world from this slightly higher vantage point. It had been quite a long time since she’d been riding. And she’dneverridden with a man seated so close that she could feel his heartbeat.
Then his arm slipped around her waist, and Daisy gasped.
“Just to hold you steady, miss. I certainly don’t want you to fall. Again.”
There was amusement in his tone, but it was warm and gentle. His breath tickled her ear. She inhaled the smells of hay and horse and leather, and couldn’t decide if this situation was merely improper or completely scandalous. Riding pressed against a total stranger…gallant as he might be.
Daisy couldn’t have told anyone what she saw on that journey, because her whole mind was consumed with what she was feeling. First the pleasure of being astride such a fine animal, and the relief of not walking. But more than that was the sensation of having this man so very close to her, his legs grazing her hips, his chest so near her back, and his arms encircling her as he loosely held the reins.
Stormer barely needed reins, for he proceeded down the road at a steady but sedate pace. Clearly, Brooks was in no hurry himself.
“You lived in London?” she asked, questing for a safe topic.
