‘Are you sure?’
Oh, yes. She was sure. Two tests a day for the past week sure. ‘I have a test in my bag, I can take it here and now if you like.’ It wasn’t the kind of thing she’d usually offer to an almost stranger but the whole situation was embarrassing enough, another step into mortification alley wouldn’t hurt.
‘No, that won’t be necessary.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘But we used... I mean, we were careful.’
It was almost funny—almost—that she and this man opposite could have spent a night being as intimate as two people could be. Had explored and tasted and touched. Had teased and caressed and been utterly uninhibited. And yet they didn’t know each other at all. He couldn’t even use the word ‘condomʼ in front of her.
‘We did.’ Daisy summoned up all her poise and looked at him as coolly and directly as she could manage, trying to breathe her panicked pulse into submission, to still the telltale tremor in her hands. ‘At least, we did the first and second time. I’m not sure we were thinking clearly after that.’
Not that they had been thinking clearly at all. Obviously. It was easy to blame the snowfall, the intimacy of being alone in the fairy-tale landscape, the champagne. That he had come to her rescue. But it still didn’t add up. It had been the most incredible, the most intense and the most out-of-character night of Daisy’s life.
A muscle was beating along the stubbled jawline; his eyes were still hard, unreadable. ‘How do you know it’s mine?’
She had been prepared for this question, it was totally reasonable for him to ask and yet a sharp stab of disappointment hit her. ‘It has to be yours.’ She lifted her chin and eyed him defiantly. ‘There is no one else, there hasn’t been, not for a long time. I usually only do long-term relationships and I split up from my last boyfriend nine months ago.’ She needed to make him understand. ‘That night, it wasn’t usual. It wasn’t how I normally behave.’
‘Right.’
‘You can check, have a test. Only not until after it’s born. It’s safer that way.’
His eyes locked onto hers. ‘You’re keeping it, then?’
Another reasonable question and yet one she hadn’t even thought to ask herself. ‘Yes. Look, Seb, you don’t have to decide anything right now. I’m not here for answers or with demands. I just thought you should know but...’
‘Hold on.’ He stood up with a lithe grace, hand held out to cut her off. ‘I need to think. Don’t go anywhere, can you promise me that? I won’t be long, I just, I just need some air. Come on, Monty.’
‘Wait!’ It was too late, he had whirled out of the door, the spaniel close to his heels. Daisy had half got up but sank back down into the deep-backed chair as the heavy oak door closed with a thud.
‘That went better than I expected,’ she murmured. She was still here and, okay, he hadn’t fallen to his knees and pledged to love the baby for ever but neither had she been turned out barefoot onto his doorstep.
And wasn’t his reaction more natural? Questioning disbelief? Maybe that should have been hers as well. Daisy slid her hand over her midriff, marvelling at the flat tautness, no visible clue that anything had changed. And yet she hadn’t been shocked or upset or considered for even a nanosecond that she wouldn’t have the baby.
Its conception might be an accident in most people’s eyes but not in Daisy’s. It was something else entirely. It was a miracle.
One hour later, more hot lemon and three pages of a beautiful old hardback edition of Pride and Prejudice read over and over again, Daisy admitted defeat. Wait, he had said. How long did he mean? She hadn’t promised him anyway; he had disappeared before she could form the words.
But she couldn’t leave without making sure he had a way of getting in touch. She hadn’t thought last time, hadn’t slipped her card into his hand or pocket with a smile and invitation. Had part of her hoped he would track her down anyway? Perform a modern-day quest in pursuit of her love. The hopeless romantic in her had. The hopeless romantic never learned.
But this wasn’t about challenges. It was more important than that. Rummaging in her bag, Daisy pulled out one of her business cards. Stylish, swirling script and a daisy motif proclaimed ‘Daisy Photos. Weddings, portraits and lifestyle.’ Her number, website and Twitter handle listed clearly below. She paused for a second and then laid the card on the tea tray with a hand that only trembled a little. It was up to him now.
She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing her shoulders to sag under the weight of her disappointment. She had been prepared for anger, denial. Naively, she had hoped he might be a little excited. She hadn’t expected him to just leave.
* * *
Her car was where she’d left it, parked at a slant just outside the imposing gates. If she had swallowed her pride and accepted the Range Rover her father had offered her then she wouldn’t have been snowed in all those weeks ago.
Daisy shook her head trying to dislodge unwanted tears prickling the backs of her eyes. It had all seemed so perfect, like a scene from one of her favourite romantic comedies. When it was clear that she was stuck, Seb had ransacked the leftovers from the wedding buffet, bringing her a picnic of canapés and champagne. And she had curled up on the shabby sofa in his office as they talked and drank, and somehow she had found herself confiding in him, trusting him. Kissing him.
She raised her hands to her lips, remembering how soft his kiss had been. At first anyway...
Right. Standing here reliving kisses wasn’t going to change anything. Daisy unlocked her car, and took one last long look at the old castle keep, the grim battlements softened by the amber spring sun.
‘Daisy!’
She paused for a moment and inhaled long and deep before swivelling round, trying to look as unconcerned as possible, and leaning back against her car.
Her heart began to thump. Loudly.
He wasn’t her type at all. Her type was clean-shaven, their eyes didn’t hold a sardonic gleam under quizzical eyebrows and look as if they were either laughing at you or criticising you. Her usual type didn’t wear their dark hair an inch too long and completely unstyled and walk around in old mud-splattered jeans, although she had to admit they were worn in all the right places.
And Daisy Huntingdon-Cross had never as much as had a coffee with a man in a logoed fleece. The black garment might bear the Hawksley Castle crest but it was still a fleece.
So why had her pulse sped up, heat pooling in the pit of her stomach? Daisy allowed the car to take more of her weight, grateful for its support.
‘Come back inside, we haven’t finished talking yet.’ It wasn’t a request.
The heat melted away, replaced by a growing indignation. Daisy straightened up, folding her arms. ‘We haven’t started talking. I gave you an hour.’
‘I know.’ She had been hoping for penitent but he was totally matter-of-fact. ‘I think better outside.’
‘And?’ Daisy wanted to grab the word back the second she uttered it. It sounded as if she had been on tenterhooks waiting for him to proclaim her fate. The kernel of truth in that thought made her squirm.
He ran a hand through his hair. The gesture was unexpectedly boyish and uncertain. ‘This would be easier if we just went back inside.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘You think better outside.’
He smiled at that, his whole expression lightening. It changed him completely, the eyes softer, the slightly harsh expression warmer.
‘Yes. But do you?’
‘Me?’
‘I have a proposition for you and you need to be thinking clearly. Are you?’
No. No, she wasn’t. Daisy wasn’t sure she’d had a clear thought since she had accepted that first glass of champagne, had hotly defended her livelihood as her rescuer had quizzed and teased her and had found herself laughing, absurdly delighted as the stern
expression had melted into something altogether different.
But she wasn’t going to admit that. Not to him, barely to herself.
‘Completely clearly.’
He looked sceptical but nodded. ‘Then, Daisy, I think you should marry me.’
CHAPTER TWO
SEB DIDN’T EXACTLY expect Daisy to throw herself at his feet in gratitude, not really. And it would have made him uncomfortable if she had. But he was expecting that she would be touched by his proposal. Grateful even.
The incredulous laugh that bubbled out of that rather enchanting mouth was, therefore, a bit of a shock. Almost a blow—not to his heart, obviously, but, he realised with a painful jolt of self-awareness, to his ego. ‘Are we in a regency novel? Seb, you haven’t besmirched my honour. There’s no need to do the honourable thing.’
The emphasis on the last phrase was scathing. And misplaced. There was every need. ‘So why did you come here? I thought you wanted my help. Or are you after money? Is that it?’
Maybe the whole situation was some kind of clever entrapment. His hands curled into fists and he inhaled, long and deep, trying not to let the burgeoning anger show on his face.
‘Of course not.’ Her indignation was convincing and the tightness in his chest eased a little. ‘I thought you should know first, that was all. I didn’t come here for money or marriage or anything.’
‘I see, you’re planning to do this alone. And you want me to what? Pop over on a Sunday and take the baby to the park? Sleepovers once a month?’ Seb could hear the scathing scorn punctuating each of his words and Daisy paled, taking a nervous step away, her hand fumbling for the car handle.
‘I haven’t really thought that far ahead.’
Seb took another deep breath, doing his best to sound reasonable as he grabbed the slight advantage. ‘You work what? Fifteen hours a day at weekends? Not just weekends. People get married every day of the week now. What are you going to do for childcare?’
‘I’ll work something out.’ The words were defiant but her eyes were troubled as she twisted her hand around the handle, her knuckles white with tension.
He put as much conviction into his voice as possible. ‘You don’t need to. Marry me.’
Her eyes were wide with confusion. ‘Why? Why on earth would you want to marry someone you barely know? Why would I agree to something so crazy?’
Seb gestured, a wide encompassing sweep of his arm taking in the lake, the woods and fields, the castle proudly overshadowing the landscape. ‘Because that baby is my heir.’
Daisy stared at him. ‘What?’
‘The baby is my heir,’ he repeated. ‘Our baby. To Hawksley.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. What has the castle got to do with the baby?’
‘Not just the castle, the estate, the title, everything.’
‘But—’ she shook her head stubbornly ‘—you’re the handyman, aren’t you? You had a shovel and a fleece and that office.’
‘The handyman?’ He could see her point. If only his colleagues could see him now, it was all a long way from his quiet office tucked away in a corner of an Oxford college. ‘In a way I guess I am—owner, handyman, manager, event-booker—running the estate is a hands-on job nowadays.’
‘So that makes you what? A knight?’
‘An earl. The Earl of Holgate.’
‘An earl?’ She laughed, slightly hysterically. ‘Is this some kind of joke? Is there a camera recording this?’ She twisted around, checking the fields behind them.
‘My parents died six months ago. I inherited the castle then.’ The castle and a huge amount of debt but there was no need to mention that right away. She was skittish enough as it was.
‘You’re being serious?’ He could see realisation dawning, the understanding in her widened eyes even as she stubbornly shook her head. ‘Titles don’t mean anything, not any more.’
‘They do to me, to the estate. Look, Daisy, you came here because you knew it was the right thing to do. Well, marrying me is the right thing to do. That baby could be the next Earl of Holgate. You want to deny him that right? Illegitimate children are barred from inheriting.’
‘The baby could be a girl.’ She wasn’t giving in easily.
‘It doesn’t matter, with the royal line of succession no longer male primogeniture there’s every chance the rest of the aristocracy will fall into line.’ He held his hand out, coaxing. ‘Daisy, come back inside, let’s talk about this sensibly.’
She didn’t answer for a long moment and he could sense her quivering, desperate need to run. He didn’t move, just waited, hand held out towards her until she took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I’ll come inside. To talk about the baby. But I am not marrying you. I don’t care whether you’re an earl or a handyman. I don’t know you.’
Seb took a deep breath, relief filling his lungs. All he needed was time. Time for her to hear him out, to give him a chance to convince her. ‘Come on, then.’
Daisy pushed off the car and turned. Seb couldn’t help taking a long appreciative look at her shapely rear as she bent slightly to relock the car. The tweed shorts fitted snugly, showing off her slender curves to perfection. He tore his eyes away, hurriedly focusing on the far hedge as she straightened and turned to join him, the blue eyes alight with curiosity.
‘An earl,’ she repeated. ‘No wonder the gorgon was so reluctant to let me in.’
‘Gorgon?’ But he knew who she meant and his mouth quirked as she stared at him meaningfully. ‘I don’t think she’s actually turned anyone to stone. Not yet. Mrs Suffolk’s family have worked here for generations. She’s a little protective.’
They reached the courtyard and Daisy started to make for the back door where Mrs Suffolk still stood guard, protecting the castle against day trippers and other invaders. Seb slipped a hand through Daisy’s arm, guiding her round the side of the house and onto the sweeping driveway with its vista down to the wooded valley below.
‘Front door and a fresh start,’ he said as they reached the first step. ‘Hello, I’m Sebastian Beresford, Earl of Holgate.’
‘Sebastian Beresford?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I know that name. You’re not an earl, you’re that historian.’
‘I’m both. Even earls have careers nowadays.’ Although how he was going to continue his academic responsibilities with running Hawksley was a problem he had yet to solve.
He held out his hand. ‘Welcome to my home.’
Daisy stared at his hand for a moment before placing her cool hand in his. ‘Daisy Huntingdon-Cross, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’
Who? There it was, that faint elusive memory sharpened into focus. ‘Huntingdon-Cross? Rick Cross and Sherry Huntingdon’s daughter?’
No wonder she looked familiar! Rock royalty on their father’s side and pure county on their mother’s, the Huntingdon-Cross sisters were as renowned for their blonde, leggy beauty as they were infamous for their lifestyle. Each of them had been splashed across the tabloids at some point in their varied careers—and their parents were legends; rich, talented and famously in love.
Seb’s heart began to pound, painfully thumping against his chest, the breath knocked from his lungs in one blow. This was not the plan, the quiet, businesslike, private union he intended.
This was trouble.
If he married this girl then the tabloids would have a field day. A Beresford and a Huntingdon-Cross would be front-page fodder to rival anything his parents had managed to stir up in their wake. All the work he had done to remain out of the press would be undone faster than he could say, ‘I do.’
But if he didn’t marry her then he would be disinheriting the baby. He didn’t have any choice.
* * *
Seb froze as he took her hand, recognition dawning in his eyes.
‘Huntingdon-Cross,’ he
repeated and Daisy dropped his hand, recoiling from the horror in his voice.
For a moment she contemplated pretending she wasn’t one of those Huntingdon-Crosses but a cousin, a far, far removed cousin. From the north. Of course, Seb didn’t have to know that she didn’t have any northern cousins.
But what was the point? He’d find out the truth soon enough and, besides, they might be wild and infuriating and infamous but they were hers. No matter how many titles or illustrious ancestors Seb had, he had no right to sneer at her family.
Daisy channelled her mother at her grandest, injecting as much froideur into her voice as she possibly could and tilting her chin haughtily. ‘Yes. I’m the youngest. I believe the tabloids call me the former wild child if that helps.’
At this the green eyes softened and the corner of his mouth tilted; heat pooled in her stomach as her blood rushed in response. It was most unfair, the almost smile made him more human. More handsome.
More desirable.
‘The one who got expelled from school?’
He had to bring that up. Daisy’s face heated, the embarrassed flush spreading from her cheeks to her neck. He was an Oxford professor, he’d probably never met anyone who had been expelled before, let alone someone with barely an academic qualification to her name. ‘I wasn’t expelled exactly, they just asked me to leave.’
‘Sounds like expulsion to me,’ he murmured.
‘It was ridiculously strict. It was almost impossible not to get expelled. Unless you were clever and studious like my sisters, that is.’ Okay, it was eight years ago and Daisy had spent every minute of those eight years trying to prove her teachers wrong but it still rankled. Still hurt.
‘The Mother Superior was always looking for a way to rid the school of the dullards like me. That way we didn’t bring the exam average down.’ She stared at him, daring him to react. He’d probably planned for the mother of his future children to have a batch of degrees to match his. His and her mortar boards.
Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set Page 21