Colin's Conundrum: A Steamy 19th Century Romance (The Victorians Book 3)
Page 14
Colin grabbed his fork and took a hearty bite, closing his eyes while he chewed.
Daisy waited, taking a seat with her plate and nibbling at her food. He's not ignoring me, she reminded herself. He just appreciates food intensely and takes his time thinking about everything he says.
After only knowing each other a couple of months, Daisy was only beginning to understand her husband and his habits. He's a thoughtful man, and he certainly takes his time. Sometimes, this annoyed Daisy, who bubbled with energy and wanted to move forward now, but she was learning to be patient with him. Impatience doesn't help anything, she reminded herself in a voice that sounded like the Vicar's late wife. A general busybody, she'd taken it as a personal mission to settle Daisy into a proper young lady. She failed so badly, Daisy recalled with a grin.
“What's funny?” Colin asked. “Won't you let me in on the joke?”
Daisy blinked her way out of her imagination and back into the kitchen with her husband. He asked me a question? He's making idle conversation? “Oh, it's nothing,” she spluttered, unprepared for conversation while food remained on Colin's plate. “I was just remembering the old lady who used to teach at the school in my hometown. She tried hard to tame me, and I think she went to her grave regretting her failure.”
Colin chuckled. It sounded rusty.
She reached out, offering the only touch he seemed able to accept and laid her hand on his. His rough, calloused skin felt thrilling under her fingers.
“Taming you?” His brown eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. It looked beautiful and alive. “It would make as much sense as taming a wild doe and be as sad. Your wild streak is such a huge part of your charm.”
Daisy smiled to hide the sudden pounding of her heart. She bit her lip. A compliment? He thinks I'm charming? Oh, my goodness. “It's useless at any rate,” she said tartly. “I'm comfortable with my wildness. I think being a proper lady sounds boring.”
His grin widened. “You can aspire to more than being an insipid little mouse, and I don't think that particular cloak would fit.”
“Certainly, it wouldn't.” Daisy took a bite of her dinner to give herself time to reflect.
“I believe you asked about my day,” Colin went on, relaxing easily into conversation, an activity that had been painful to the point of impossibility only a few weeks ago. He chewed thoughtfully on a bite of peas, swallowed, and took a sip of water. “It was an ordinary day, I suppose. The lambs are growing nicely. We lost a couple of goslings to a fox. The men suggested we get a sheepdog. It's a good idea. I'm surprised there are no dogs at all on the estate. Father used to have some particularly nasty hounds, but when they died, he was already declining, and no one replaced them. I think it's time to consider something more useful.”
“It would be nice to have a dog,” Daisy agreed, “not to mention some cats. Why are there no cats on an estate that was once dedicated to growing grain?”
Colin shrugged. “There were none by the time I was born, and I must confess, I never thought about them. It does make sense though. Say, what's that look on your face? Are you planning on spoiling the puppies and kittens with kitchen scraps and head scratches, and turning them into pets? They'd be working animals, Daisy.”
Daisy giggled. “As if I haven't seen you patting the lambs. Just because an animal is here to work doesn't mean we can't enjoy them as pets.”
Colin acknowledged her words with a sheepish grin.
“I'm so glad everything is better on the estate, Colin. The tenants look so much healthier and happier now. You succeeded. It's lovely.”
“I didn't do anything,” he muttered, his habitual negativity welling up like a cloud and hiding the sunshine. “You did it, with your money.”
“No, I didn't,” she argued. She noticed her hand still lay on his and squeezed gently. “You did it, Colin. You and the men. You realized grain was hopeless and decided on animal husbandry instead. It was a success. Your efforts have earned enough to last us through the summer and into the fall, and the second round of sales—the lambs and the geese—will bring in more than enough for winter. I didn't save you, love. You did. I only provided the breathing room you needed for the chickens and ducks to mature. You didn't need much because you had already saved the estate before I got here.”
Colin frowned at her, his forehead furrowing as he processed these unexpected thoughts.
“Love, you have to understand this. You saved your estate. You did it. I helped speed up the timing, but this would have been the outcome in a few years anyway. Now, you need to lay the burden down. You'll work yourself into an early grave if you don't stop thinking such harsh thoughts about yourself. You have nothing more to prove. Everything is fine. Only, you have to admit it to yourself. You can live a normal life now. Work hard through the day, as any man should, and then come home and indulge in creature comforts—a hearty meal, a warm bed—and let the day's cares roll away.”
He shook his head. “I don't know how to do that.”
“I know you don't. Will you let me help you? Let me give you new thoughts and opportunities? You deserve to rest, Colin.”
“You've done more than your share already, Daisy,” he said. “You're fresh as a summer flower. You have no business living in the dirt.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Colin, flowers thrive in dirt. It's their proper environment. What happens if you remove a flower from the dirt?”
He paused.
“Say it,” she insisted.
“It dies,” he rasped.
“I don't feel out of place here, Colin, and I'm far from exhausted. Remember, I'm not some fancy lady who thinks lifting a fork is hard work. I'm a humble innkeeper's daughter. Labor doesn't frighten or offend me. I rather enjoy it. But when the day is done, when the food is cooked and the house is clean, and the animals are settled in their stables, it's time for us both to set cares aside and explore… explore what it means to be a family. That's what we are now, love. You and me. We can… we can make a life together. I want that. I've wanted it from the beginning. Don't you?”
Her heart, which had not stopped pounding since his compliment earlier, took on a painful rhythm.
Colin gulped. “What are you asking, Daisy? Do you want to discuss literature? That's how we started.”
“Yes,” she agreed, eager to jump on an easy answer. “Or read together. Discover new works.”
“I could agree to that.”
Daisy swallowed against a ball of fear that seemed to be forming in her throat. “And other things. Colin, you do realize you don't need to sleep alone, don't you?”
* * *
Just like that, the supportive friendliness with which they had started their conversation died, and a sort of wordless intensity rose. It didn't feel like the usual helpless despair that wrapped around him like a ragged cloak of pain. Did she just say what I think she said? Did she mean it the way it sounded? “Daisy?”
She didn't answer, merely regarded him with her heart glowing in her wide green eyes.
Colin couldn't look away. He felt trapped in Daisy's eyes. Captured in warmth and peace that didn't feel it should belong to him. One small hand, rough with hard work, traced the scratchy shadow of a beard on his cheek. She leaned in, waiting.
As though unable to stop himself, Colin moved in her direction.
You wanted this once, her expression seemed to say. You wanted it as badly as I did. Now, here we are, husband and wife. Come on.
A pull that seemed to come from the deepest part of Colin's soul drew him forward again. It refused to let him pass up this opportunity.
His lips touched Daisy's in a warm, gentle touch. Her essence radiated into his face, into his head, where obsessive thoughts already circled and chased them back into the shadows. Spread down the back of his neck in a riot of tingles to his heart, where the walls he'd been busily erecting since childhood against future pain took a battering. Down into his limbs, the essence of Daisy, of summer sunshine and pure joy radiated.
A wild hunger rose up in Colin, and he hauled Daisy out of her chair into his lap.
She went easily, offering no resistance.
He devoured her, seeking to pull every last ounce of her goodness into himself.
Her fingers curled in his hair, and she tilted her head, seeking and finding a perfect alignment. Their tongues mated and coiled.
Daisy exhaled in an eager, breathless sigh. “Please, Colin,” she whispered against his lips.
Oh, yes, his unbridled inner self urged. Take what she's offering—what we both want. Take her peace and joy and return it full measure.
Into the powerful moment, a dark and sneaky doubt crept. A sly voice that whispered, “To what end? She's offering passion, but she expects love or at least the possibility of it. Can you offer her the love a woman deserves? Can you take her body and give her back your heart?”
Colin broke away with a snarl and set Daisy on her feet. “I'm sorry,” he said, struggling to rein in his unruly desire.
“What happened?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I can't do this.”
“Colin?” She reached out with fingers that trembled in their air between them, but she stopped short of touching his face.
He recoiled. “I do need to sleep alone. I must. I know you don't understand, but… it's for the best. Someday, you'll understand. I cannot tie you to me. Not when I have so little to offer.”
He rose, a move that put him uncomfortably close to her body, where her heat and scent radiated out to touch him, drawing him with a temptation that almost cracked his willpower.
Nearly knocking his chair over in his haste to escape, he skirted his bewildered wife and ran for the door.
“Coward,” his conscience scolded him, looming in his mind like a scowling headmaster. “Daisy didn't deserve that. She wasn't asking you to do anything harmful or frightening. You haven't been afraid of sex since you were a sixteen-year-old schoolboy.”
He plunged into the darkness outside the kitchen door, hoping the night would blind his thoughts the way it blinded his eyes. Instead, the pressing night sank deep into his awareness, leaving him in a black chamber where his thoughts echoed louder than the summer crickets.
Just when maybe things were getting better, here is another situation I cannot fix. A situation with no solution I can hold onto. If I take Daisy to wife, if I let myself love her, she'll be trapped in this nightmare with me for the rest of her life. She deserves better. If I let her go, I'll have to force her away, which will feel as good as kicking a puppy.
She's falling for me, for some perverse reason. I can see it in her eyes, and most especially in the bold way in which she just invited me to her bed, but I cannot allow it. She must leave. She must. The cost to her will be high. She gave me her virginity, but a better man will forgive that. She's well worth it.
The idea of Daisy with a new lover, a new husband, made him powerfully angry. A wave of anger he had no right to feel since he couldn't be the husband she needed. Hopelessness thickened until he choked on it.
And how will you feel, knowing you took some of the money she should have kept to support herself?
His thoughts swirled around and around in a vortex of bewilderment.
“What do I do?” he asked out loud. “God, you've never paid the slightest attention to my needs before, but if you care at all about the fate of that kind young woman you tossed into my life, tell me what to do with her.”
No answer came. His prayer, as always, seemed to rebound off an iron plate and slam back into him with a force that drove him to his knees in the damp, cool grass. He crouched, fighting the urge to retch, while unformed agony bounced through his entire body again.
Chapter 10
Though she had expected it, Colin's rejection stung badly. Particularly in light of how passionately he'd kissed her.
Daisy sat alone at the table for several long minutes, breathing deeply and trying to still the beating of her heart. Leaning forward, she rested her head on her hands on the table. “This is harder than I thought,” she muttered. “In some ways, it's worse than simple neutrality or even hostility. He wants me. I can see he does. Why does he insist on pushing me away?”
Without Colin there to answer her questions, they ricocheted around in her mind, violent as birdshot, shattering joy and leaving seeping wounded in their wake.
“I cannot let this break me,” she told herself. “I must remember to care for myself, as he's not able to. Another moment, and I'll get up and find something useful to do.”
In the back of her mind, in the silence, another voice whispered, “His need to push me away may eventually become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
She sat a moment and allowed herself to understand that she would not live with his rejection and waffling forever and that one day, if Colin didn't change his behavior, she might leave and be right to do so.
“Someday, but not now.”
Rising, she began to gather the plates, to pile them up beside the sink, which those sneaky servants had equipped with the luxury of hot running water by installing a cistern adjacent to the stove. “It was a smart move,” she admitted, “though dishonest. They surely made kitchen work easier. Now, I don't have to heat water for dishes or laundry on the stove. It saves hours every week.”
She stacked the dishes in the basin, added soap and pulled the lever to activate the hot water when an idea occurred to her. Turning as though in a trance, she made her way to the pantry and opened the door. Inside, a portable tub waited for the owners to decide to bathe.
It isn't bath day, she thought, but our midsummer celebration is tomorrow. The thought of luxuriating in warm water nearly made her tremble. This is exactly what I need.
She dragged the tub into the open space between the table and the cabinets and claimed out her largest stockpot, which she set aside. Then, she drew out a second, smaller pot, which she filled with cold water and set on the stove, muttering instructions to herself as she went, so she could keep her mind focused on irrelevant things.
“Heat some water on the stove because the running water will grow tepid as I move it from the sink to the tub. While it's heating, I can get myself a towel and my bathing soaps. Today, I want to luxuriate.”
Once a pot of water sat simmering on the stovetop, Daisy ducked through the door into the parlor and then crossed to her bedroom. Rummaging in the top drawer of her bureau, she drew out a box made of fancy paper and opened the lid. Inside, a collection of sweet-smelling French-milled soaps, a birthday gift from her oldest sister, released a waft of loveliness into the room. She selected her favorite and also retrieved a towel and her nightgown. She took a moment to clean her teeth before returning to the kitchen. As she had hoped, the water had begun to bubble, though it had a ways to go before it boiled.
She set her supplies beside the tub and got to work extracting the hot water from the cistern and pouring it into the tub. It took several trips, and eventually, the cistern grew empty. She frowned, filling the tub the rest of the way with unheated water.
At last, the tub was full and the water on the stove had begun to boil. She carried it to the tub, poured it in, and stripped off her garments.
“I should have used the room-temperature water first,” she told herself. “Stupid. Oh well. I've learned that lesson. It's warm enough.”
She settled back against the copper wall of the tub and closed her eyes, inhaling the rose scent of her soap and letting her tension drift away.
“I wonder what would happen if Colin came in and found me naked in the kitchen. I've always warned him when I planned to bathe, and he gave me privacy. Today… today he's made me angry. If he sees more than he intends to, I don't feel sorry for him.�
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She imagined what his reaction would be, if he burst into the kitchen, only to behold his wife's naked breasts in the dim light of the stove, and know she was bare all over. “Would I be embarrassed? I don't think so. Shy, maybe. Maybe I would flirt with fluttering eyelashes and slowly stand. I wonder how long he would be able to resist?”
Too long, a sour voice in the back of her mind groused, shattering her pleasant fantasy. Probably forever.
Annoyed with herself for being so grumpy, Daisy drew her legs up to her chest and sat up. This put her in position to look into the window to the dark, sleeping garden beyond.
Something black blocked the view. Something black with a strip of white. White, with two brown eyes staring in the window at her. A flicker of undefined movement that suggested dark gloves revealed a large, white stone.
Daisy screamed.
* * *
“Get up, you dolt,” Colin told himself fiercely. “Your wife invited you to her bed. She didn't tell you she was leaving forever. Deep down, admit that you want her to stay—and you want to take her up on her offer—in spite of everything. At least be honest with yourself.”
Digging his hands into the moist soil, he pushed himself upright. The cool earth against his fingers soothed him. It felt like life. Like returning to life after a long, brutal winter.
That's what's happening, he realized. Life is returning. To the estate, to the tenants and to me. I've been in the dark so long, that life, like light, hurts my eyes. I can't see because it's so bright. I shy away. Flinch away, but, my God, do I want the light to shine on me.
“You don't deserve it,” the sly voice of melancholia—his father's voice—whispered. “You don't deserve light or life. You failed, year after year. A decade of failure has been charged to your account, and a dark debtor's prison is your only just fate.”
He shook his heat. Daisy doesn't think that. She wants to share her light with me.
“She's a fool,” the voice replied, “and when she realizes what a fool she's been, she'll run, and you'll be even worse off than before, for daring to reach out for something that will never be for you.”