Calling On Daisy

W aiting in the drawing room of Ramsay House with his wife and sister, Kenneth acknowledged he had never seen Daisy as excited about anything as she was about Rowan Halstead's visit. As her brother, he'd be the first to admit to having done a poor job of parading her about town in search of a suitable husband. He'd gone off to Spain, then married, then came the birth of his son. All valid excuses. In any case, his mother was of the opinion Daisy had decided she preferred not to marry. She disdained men.

When Harrison announced Halstead, Daisy's uncharacteristic blush said it all. She definitely found the boring, opinionated fellow appealing.

They do say love is blind.

"Hope you don't mind if my wife and I stay," Kenneth said after introductions were made. "Appearances and all that."

"Not at all," Halstead replied as he lifted the tails of his frock coat and plonked down on the sofa next to Kenneth. It apparently didn't occur to him the seat beside Daisy was vacant. "In fact, you in particular will enjoy the tale of my sailing adventure up the Thames this morning."

He then launched into an enthusiastic account of the voyage, stressing how fervently he'd wanted to venture further into the North Sea, despite the storm clouds. "But, as King pointed out, the vessel was needed in the shipyards."

Kenneth could imagine how chagrined Rowan was that Niven had been in charge. "So, you enjoyed the experience."

"Indeed, and King has delegated to me the responsibility for organizing ships for the war effort. Decent chap, I must say, although I'm not looking forward to hearing him play the violin. My father wants him to give a performance after dinner one evening."

"Oh, but he's a gifted fiddle player," Kenneth retorted. "When my cousins first came to London, Mama organized a ball and eight of us performed a demonstration Scottish reel. Niven had everyone's feet tapping."

"It was loads of fun," Daisy unexpectedly chimed in. "People formed impromptu squares and joined in."

"Niven plays the bagpipes too," Cat informed them. "Better than most."

"Well, we'll see, I suppose," Rowan replied, apparently unimpressed.

The final half hour of the visit passed with Rowan doing most of the talking, mainly about himself and his opinions regarding Napoleon.

Recalling the devastation and cruelty he'd witnessed in Spain, Kenneth could hardly contain himself when the fellow suggested Bonaparte would never invade England so why not let him run roughshod over Europe?

Known to devour several dainties, Daisy didn't touch any of the baked goods on offer. She hardly said a word, clearly unimpressed with the boor. What kind of a man called on a prospective bride with a leafy green vegetable stuck in his teeth?

Pretending to sip her tea, Cat rolled her eyes when she thought no one was watching.

By the time Rowan left, Kenneth's hopes for a budding romance had dwindled. "Well," was all he could say.

"Isn't he wonderful?" Daisy exclaimed. "I think I'm in love."

Driving home after his visit to Ramsay House, Rowan felt quite pleased with the way things had turned out—apart from that nonsense about Niven King's musical abilities. As if being able to play the violin and the bagpipes made him some kind of virtuoso. Bagpipes weren't even a musical instrument in the true sense of the word.

Still, Daisy seemed to think highly of Niven's talents. Perhaps he should invite her to the townhouse the evening her cousin was to perform.

He liked the way she'd listened attentively to everything he'd said. He hoped her brother hadn't noticed the tenting at his groin. So few women aroused him, he didn't have much practice controlling his rod. He could definitely see himself marrying Daisy. As the daughter of a duke, she was aware of what was expected of a duchess. She would do nicely—after Napoleon had finally been sent packing.

Love had found Daisy Hawkins at last. She'd despaired of ever finding a man who loved her, but Rowan Halstead was clearly smitten. The best part was, she felt the same about him. He tended to be overly fond of the sound of his own voice, but something about that voice echoed in her womb and caused her nipples to tingle.

Resigned to spinsterhood after several unsatisfactory relationships, she'd occasionally fantasized about marrying an earl or a baron at the very least. One day, Rowan would be Duke of Withenshawe and she his duchess. Kenneth and her mother could surely have no objection. It was enough to make a girl jump for joy. She wondered if his legs were as well-muscled as his arms. If he invited her to the evening of Scottish music, she'd have to find a way to convince him to wear a kilt.

"I'll never understand yer sister," Cat confessed to her husband as she lay in his arms that night.

"Nor I," he agreed. "I don't know what she sees in Rowan Halstead."

She snuggled into his warmth. "He's pompous and opinionated."

"Well, Daisy isn't usually shy about expressing her opinions, though she remained remarkably quiet during the visit."

"She's smitten. I suppose folk wondered what ye saw in me."

"True," he conceded. "Who knows what it is that causes a person to be attracted to another? I knew the moment I set eyes on you that my life had changed irrevocably."

Confident of his deep love now they'd been married a good while, Cat cupped his sac. "Was it this that told ye we were destined to be together?"

He pressed his hand over hers. "I can't deny my cock rose to the occasion, magnificently so I might add, but it was more than that—a stirring in my heart as well as my loins."

"Aye," she replied hoarsely. "I ken what ye mean. I craved ye then, just as I crave ye now."

He pulled her on top of him. "And you shall have me, my darling."