Daisy and the Duke

Daisy and the Duke - Part 2

Duke Ian Furchess is not a man who likes to be told what to do, though the mantle of responsibility has always lain on his shoulders. But for the first time, a gorgeous American tourist with her own royal agenda might just tempt him to go too far...

 

 

Chapter Two

At that moment, Daisy couldn't care less about her mission. She was far more entranced with the way the stranger's eyes flashed hot with desire right before he deliberately reined it in and pretended to ignore the sizzle in the air. Daisy was not particularly experienced, but she recognized hunger when she saw it. This tough, rugged man with muddy boots and elegant hands wanted her.

The knowledge excited her. Daisy was not the kind of woman who drove men to do wild things. She was a good organizer, a decent cook and a damned fine researcher. But she was neither seductive nor sexy. That wasn't self-pity speaking. She merely knew her own limitations.

But this man saw her differently... Suddenly she wished she had worn a more alluring outfit than a comfy cotton dress that traveled well.

Nibbling her bottom lip for half a second, she blurted out a most un-Daisy-like invitation. "Would you have dinner with me tonight? After I meet with the duke?" This stranger really would think she was a pushy, forward American if she kept this up. "My treat," she said hastily, once again assessing the worn state of the man's attire.

His throat and face flushed. A noticeable bulge tented the front of his pants. Dear Lord. Daisy blushed as well, feeling hot and shaky and wonderfully excited. Suddenly, she had a vision of the two of them hidden away in a hay-filled barn, Daisy riding astride this man's impressive, impossible-to-miss—

"I'll have to take a rain check," he said gruffly. "Perhaps another time."

The gentle rebuff curdled her stomach. She rarely put herself out there, and this was why. He had shot her down, albeit gently, but nevertheless a slap in the face. Gathering her tattered composure, she ignored the way her eyes stung and her throat closed up. "Very well. I only wanted to show my gratitude for your assistance."

She heard her prissy words and realized that she had unwittingly picked up some of his toney accent. Glancing at her watch to disguise the fact that she was near tears, she took a deep breath. "If it's not too much of a bother, would you please go in and ask if he will see me?"

The man with the dark amber eyes and the face of a Roman conqueror did not smile as he took a step closer, and with one finger, reached out to wipe a damp stain from the corner of her lashes. "You're a lovely woman, Ms. Daisy Wexler. I'll do what I can." His hand lingered, cupping her cheek. "Where are you staying while you're here?"

She nodded over her shoulder to the view of a placid Lake Windemere glistening in the distance. The water was a deep, mysterious cerulean beneath the noonday sun. Barely a whitecap or a ripple disturbed the broad expanse. "Ambleside. The youth hostel across the way."

He nodded, his expression almost grim. "Come back in an hour. If the duke is available, I'll ask him to speak with you."