Kieran Kramer - If You Give A Girl A Viscount

Perdita made a disgusting scoffing noise that sounded as if she were sick to her stomach.

Daisy flinched. “Do you have any love for me at all?” she asked her.

Mona snorted. “Are you going to let her get by with spouting that nonsense, Perdy?” She always enjoyed a good sparring match between Daisy and Perdita and made no secret of the fact that she always wanted Perdita to win.

Perdita ignored Daisy’s question. “Your future is over. Mine has only begun.”

“Why do you say that?” Daisy felt hot anger rising through her body.

Perdita shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s true.”

Daisy’s anger burst from her in a torrent of words: “Don’t be so sure. I’ve had it with all three of you. I don’t intend to endure your lack of feeling much longer.”

Mona sucked in her cheeks. “Exactly what do you mean by that, young lady?”

Daisy instantly regretted speaking. “I won’t tolerate your cruelties.”

Mona was as still as a cat in the seconds before it catches its prey. “Don’t think you can fob me off. You speak as if you plan to leave us. But you wouldn’t leave Hester or Joe. And you certainly couldn’t support them if you took them with you. So I’m left to conclude that you’re suggesting that we shall be the ones leaving, Perdita, Cassandra, and I.”

There was a beat of silence. Daisy had no idea what to say. A deep-seated fear of her stepmother gripped her throat like a chokehold.

Cassandra sat up straighter. “Why, you’re wicked!”

“No,” said Daisy. “I never said that. And I’m not wicked. You are, not me. All three of you are.” That great anger was threatening to overwhelm her again.

“You’re up to something,” Mona said in menacing tones, “and I intend to find out what it is. And when I do, you’d best be prepared. Because a stepmother betrayed is a stepmother who will make you pay. Until it hurts. Oh, excuse me.” She put a finger to her mouth and reconsidered. “Until it hurts very badly .”

Perdita and Cassandra laughed. Thank God the Keep was so large and that the library was far enough away that the gentlemen couldn’t hear.

Shivers of disgust and fear ran down Daisy’s spine. “What have I ever done to you, except try to be a good sister and daughter? Why do all of you hate me so much?”

Mona merely arched one eyebrow.

Perdita stuffed a chocolate in her mouth and chomped in Daisy’s general direction.

Cassandra wore an awful smirk on her beautiful face.

“I’ll leave you to yourselves,” Daisy told them, sick to her stomach that they hadn’t bothered to answer.

Their mocking laughter followed her out. She’d never felt so miserable and alone in her life.

But even worse, she felt afraid. Mona had caught on that Daisy didn’t want her at Castle Vandemere.

Surrounded by a dozen gentlemen as wealthy or more than he and whose interests somewhat overlapped (Charlie had never claimed to be a bird-watcher), he decided he’d never felt so miserable and alone in his life. The whisky and brandy had made the travelers talkative, but eventually, even they grew tired. So it was with much relief that he stood when the men eventually called it a night a little after midnight.

“Sleep well, gentlemen,” he told them as they filed past him at the door to the library.

“I thought I saw a buxom maid or two about the premises,” said Mr. Woo in a leading fashion.

A few of the others made suggestive remarks about the maids, as well.

“Yes, well, even buxom maids need their sleep, don’t they?” Charlie said.

Mr. Woo lowered his brow. “The Highland experience doesn’t include Highland lasses?”

“No. It doesn’t.” Charlie couldn’t care less if the man were offended. He saw how hard the villagers had worked today. He’d seen the pride on their faces when he’d complimented their cleaning and cooking.

Obviously, Mr. Woo assumed Charlie was to provide opportunities for bedroom activities as part of their arrangement. Charlie knew the upper classes were used to getting what they wanted. But he refused to acknowledge the men’s more unseemly expectations.

Their bedchambers were situated on one long, candlelit corridor that turned at a right angle in the middle. As the first two visitors went to their rooms, escorted by footmen, Charlie couldn’t help wondering where Daisy was situated.

He knew she was on the floor above theirs. Was her room directly above his own? He’d like to imagine it was. He was sure she was fast asleep.

But there she was, striding confidently toward him. He should have known she’d yet be awake for one reason or another. She carried a sputtering candle in her hand and was still dressed for dinner. But now she wore a gorgeous pink blossom over one ear.

She looked breathtakingly lovely.

“Miss Montgomery!” Mr. King hailed her heartily. “You’ve not retired for the evening?”

“Of course not, Mr. King.” She smiled at him, completely alert, all signs of imbibing too much wine erased. “A hostess doesn’t sleep until her guests are down for the night. I’ve spent the last several hours outdoors, walking and reading in the gardens. Lasting daylight is one benefit of living in the Highlands in the summer. I feel quite refreshed.”

She looked round the group. “Does anyone require a small bite to eat from the kitchens?”

A chorus of no s rang out—they’d had plenty for dinner, they all claimed in a most hospitable manner. With the presence of Daisy, the men seemed to have perked up and become mannerly again.

Mr. King held out his arm. “Please join us on a midnight stroll down the corridor.”

She laughed. “I’ll be glad to.” Catching Charlie’s eye, she bestowed a small, close-lipped smile upon him.

He recognized that smile. It was her shy one. He’d have liked her on his arm, but he wouldn’t make a fuss this time. Mr. King was on his best behavior. He was the last of the guests to reach his bedchamber door. Once there, he bent low over Daisy’s hand and kissed it.

“Thank you,” he said, “for an extraordinary beginning to our Highland adventure. It will be a most interesting ten days.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, blushing.

Charlie couldn’t help feeling jealous.

Mr. King also exchanged a cordial good-night with him, but it was obvious their American guest much preferred the company of his hostess.

Alone at last in the corridor, Daisy hooked her arm through Charlie’s.

He relished the contact.

“Only nine days to go,” she whispered.

“Nine long days,” he whispered back.

She stifled a laugh. “We’ll make it.”

It was a brief moment of camaraderie, and he had a sudden, mad desire to make love to her right there, against the cold, stone walls of the corridor.

She drew in a small breath and turned to look at an elaborate tapestry.

Hah.

So she must have sensed the tension, too. Of course, it was still there. Their afternoon on the Stone Steps had done nothing but whet his appetite for her.

He didn’t know how he’d ever thought her plain.

“Good night, Charlie,” she said, suddenly stopping. “It’s past midnight, and it’s still light. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said.

“Wait—”

But she strode quickly away, around the corner, and then he heard the pat of her slippers on the stairs to her bedchamber.

On the third step, he found the flower that had been in her hair.

The Keep’s walls loomed over him after Daisy ran off. Charlie heard nothing. It was lonely after midnight in a strange castle, even with the eerie summer light. He felt an ache near his heart as he stared at the flower in his hand and bent to sniff it. The sweet, musky odor was pleasing, but it didn’t satisfy him nearly as much as the scent of Daisy’s skin.