A Heart of a Duke Collection: Volume 1-A Regency Bundle

by Christi Caldwell

  Her mouth went dry and with him unaware of her presence above, she studied him, frozen in the streets below. She touched a finger to her lips remembering his kiss. Her first kiss. She burned with a hunger for more of him, wanted to know in his arms, all the intimate secrets shared between a man and woman. Auric gave his head a shake and yanked at his lapels. The tick-tock of the ormolu clock and the sound of her own breath filled her ears as he remained fixed to his spot in the street. Then with a pained expression stamped on his face, he started toward the front door. Her heart started. His was not the look of a man eager to see his betrothed.

  “What are you looking at Daisy?”

  She gasped and the curtain slipped from her fingers. “Mother,” she greeted, springing to her feet.

  Her mother wore her perpetual frown and black bombazine skirts. “It won’t do to be seen gawking out the window.” Ah, this reprimanding, propriety driven lady bore hint to the person she used to be. Some of the blankness to her stare that she’d affected these seven years had lifted, though Daisy suspected part of that great heartache would always remain. Then, how could a woman recover from the loss that her mother had known?

  “It is Auric,” Daisy said at last, knowing if anything could dispel her mother’s displeasure or disappointment, it was mention of the duke.

  “How lovely! He’s come to visit.” She made to ring for a servant.

  Daisy called out, halting her. “I don’t believe he is here on a social call.” She folded her hands together and studied their interlocked digits.

  “What are you—?”

  She raised her head. “I believe he’s just come from speaking with my guardians.”

  “Speaking with your guardians?” her mother parroted. “Whatever about?”

  She hesitated. The tension in Auric’s mouth and his wan complexion hadn’t hinted at an eager bridegroom, rushing over after securing the appropriate permission from her guardians. “I…” she hesitated. She thrust aside her misgivings. “He asked that I marry him.” Nothing could compel Auric to do something he didn’t wish. He wanted to marry her. Otherwise, he’d not have asked.

  Silence met her pronouncement. Then a cry escaped her mother’s lips and she buried the expression of joy in her fingers. Even in her happiness, ascribing to societal dictates for appropriate behavior. “Oh, Daisy, how could you not have said anything?” She sailed over in a flurry of black skirts and captured her daughter’s hands. There was a gentle reproach in her eyes.

  “I—” Hadn’t been completely certain that she’d not dreamed the entire exchange. Nor could she be certain that between their meeting yesterday morn to this moment that he hadn’t regretted his request. “I thought it would be best to wait until he’d spoken to the marquess and Uncle,” she settled for.

  Tears filled Mama’s haunting, blue eyes and slipped down her cheeks in a graceful display of quiet happiness. “I always knew he cared for you.”

  As had Daisy. She’d merely thought his feelings were those reserved for a younger sister. Where she had loved him with a woman’s heart.

  “We shall have a grand ceremony—”

  A sound of protest escaped her. “No, Mama, please.” She’d become accustomed to the introvert who avoided any and all conversations, that she’d not anticipated her mother wanting to put her and Auric on display for all of polite Society. “I would prefer a small, intimate gathering.” There was a faintly pleading tone to her words. She loathed the attention. Through the years she’d been invisible to the ton and, as such, she’d never quite managed to move with the grace and assurance evinced by Auric.

  “Bah, of course there is to be a grand ceremony. Why, we must invite Lady Jersey,” Daisy groaned, “and I daresay Prinny himself will come,” her mother continued over her. “After all, it is not every day that a duke weds.”

  Daisy buried her head in her hands and shook it back and forth. Mama might not give two jots of whether her daughter was pleased. She would, however, care a good deal of Auric’s wishes. “Auric will not welcome a lavish event, Mama. I’m certain of it.” The man of his youth would have. Whereas Daisy had always been hopelessly gauche and bumbling at the summer parties thrown by her parents, Auric had moved with the same effortless grace he possessed, even to this day.

  “Hmm.” Her mother tapped a finger against her lips. “Do you believe so?”

  “Oh, I’m certain of it.”

  “We shall, of course, defer to the duke’s desires in the matter.” She threw her arms around Daisy.

  “Oomph!” She staggered under the weight of her mother’s unexpected frame and she stiffened as Mama ran her palm up and down her back the way she had when Daisy had been a small girl who’d stumbled or fallen. Daisy held her body taut with the unfamiliarity of this embrace. Too many years had passed where her mother hadn’t managed to look at her surviving child, let alone hold her.

  “I am so very happy,” her mother said, her voice clogged with emotion.

  Daisy closed her eyes and accepted her mother’s affection. The same way she’d missed Auric’s teasing, smiling presence was the same way she’d longed to return to the simpler times when Mama had been stern and disapproving and Papa jovial, and Lionel—just being Lionel. There had been a void and Auric had been the one to fill it, and in so doing had healed some part of her shattered mother.

  The marchioness seemed to remember herself. She released Daisy and stepped back. “Well,” she said, smoothing her palms along the front of her skirts. A pink blush stained her cheeks. “If you’ll excuse me?” With that, her mother turned on her heel and left Daisy—alone.

  Her lips curved upward in an unrestrained smile. Now, she’d never be alone again. Daisy reclaimed her seat and picked up her embroidery frame once more, periodically shifting her attention from the scrap of fabric to the ormolu clock, ticking away on the mantel. A little frown played on her lips. Where in blazes was he? He’d stepped down from the carriage…and she stole a glance at the clock, several minutes ago. Perhaps he wished to speak to her mama first?

  She stilled, feeling his presence. Then, they’d always shared a unique connection, one that defied Lionel’s passing. Frederick appeared at the entrance of the room.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Crawford,” he boomed and then backed out, allowing them their privacy.

  Quiet echoed in the still of the Blue Parlor and Daisy climbed to her feet. “Hullo,” she offered belatedly.

  “Daisy,” he murmured. Thick lashes that no gentleman had a right to possess swept low as he peered at her.

  When he’d arrived a short while ago, she’d detected a flash of panic and horror on his face, and he’d then disappeared inside, so that she was left to wonder if she’d imagined his inexplicable reaction. With the manner in which his hot gaze lingered upon the swell of her décolletage, all her misgivings lifted when presented instead with his masculine appreciation. She fiddled with the embroidery frame, grateful for its comforting presence in her hands. “Hullo,” she said. Again. Twice now. Or perhaps she hadn’t? “Mayhap I’d only thought it in my head?” Which would, of course, be the preferable, less humiliating—

  A half grin pulled at his lips as he strode over, coming to a stop just several feet away. “No, you did indeed greet me twice.”

  Daisy bit the inside of her cheek. “Oh.” Bothersome habit to have. “Would you care to sit?” she asked, motioning to the collection of seats about the room.

  Wordlessly, he inclined his head and waited until she’d reclaimed her spot, perched upon the edge of the sofa. Auric took the seat beside her. His broad, powerful frame filled the King Louis XIV mahogany chair. She rested her embroidery on her lap.

  “I spoke with your g…” Auric dropped a contemplative gaze to her lap.

  She held it up for his perusal.

  “A teardrop?”

  Daisy shook her head. “Why ever would I want to capture a teardrop upon a handkerchief?”

  Auric grinned. “You are correct.” He leaned over and in a
very un-dukelike manner, plucked it from her fingers.

  “Well?” she prodded.

  With the tip of his index finger, he trailed it over the crimson red threads, outlined in gold. His creased brow spoke to his concentration, which was undoubtedly never a promising sign of one’s embroidering prowess, or rather lack therefore of. She sighed and took it from his fingers. “Oh, do give me that.”

  “Do you know what it is?” he teased.

  Daisy pointed her eyes to the ceiling. “Of course I do.” She kicked at his foot with the tip of her slippers. “Do hush.” Yet, secretly at his teasing, she trilled with happiness; the kind of uncomplicated joy she’d never thought to know and most certainly never again from him, the stoic, somber Duke of Crawford. She proceeded to pull her threaded needle through the fabric with deliberate care.

  “I spoke to your guardians.”

  She paused, not taking her gaze from the indecipherable heart she worked on. “Did you?” Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

  “I asked for your hand.”

  Daisy jammed the tip of her needle into the pad of her thumb. Reflexively, her fingers opened and the frame slipped from her fingers.

  Auric tugged off his gloves and tossed them on the rose-inlaid, mahogany table, all the while watching her with an inscrutable expression.

  He’d not changed his mind. “D-did you?” A giddy sensation replaced the tension in her chest.

  He shot a hand out and laid claim to her fingers, his gaze holding hers. “I did,” he confessed. The vital strength of his olive-hued fingers burned her skin. “Did you believe I would change my mind?” Then with a wickedly delicious slowness, he ran the pad of his thumb over the palm of her hand.

  Well, the idea had entered her thoughts. She swallowed hard, a warm sensation fluttered in her belly. “No,” she managed, her voice breathy as Auric’s expert touch sent all manner of delicious shivers spiraling through her being. The fear that he’d recognized the folly in wedding plump, freckled Daisy Meadows hadn’t entered her thoughts—until, he’d paused on the cobbled streets a short while ago, his expression pained. Since then, she’d been consumed by a niggling fear that with the morn he’d come to his senses and recall that he could have any glorious, golden creature, which he surely favored, as evidenced by his courtship of the Lady Anne Stanhope.

  Her lashes drifted closed as he dragged the tip of his index finger over the intersecting lines of her palm. How was it possible for a mere touch to affect her so? Daisy dropped her gaze and studied that seductively innocent caress. All the while her heart danced a funny rhythm in her chest. “You’re quiet. I never remember you to be quiet.”

  She couldn’t very well admit that the hard, heavy assurance of his hand robbed her of coherent thought, made it nigh impossible to string words together. “I’m not the same woman I was.” Except, with those words, inadvertently she’d roused the ghost that would always be between them and part of their lives. She’d not shatter this moment with the ugliness that would forever unite them.

  His gaze grew shuttered and his finger resumed its slow, explorative movement. “Yes, you’ve said as much, haven’t you?” He now ran his thumb up her palm and back and forth over her wrist.

  Her mouth went dry and all thoughts fled as he slowly brought her hand to his mouth. His lips caressed the spot where her heartbeat pulsed madly for him. Only him. It had only ever been him. Her lids fluttered closed as he continued to worship the skin with his kiss.

  “I’ll be obtaining a special license so we may wed within the week.” His pronouncement penetrated the thick haze of desire roused by his touch.

  Warmth fanned her heart once more. “A special license?” The speed with which he’d wed her hinted at his eagerness to take her as his bride and it would spare Daisy from her mother’s grand plans for the blessed day.

  Auric raised her other hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. “Will you regret not having a proper ceremony and—?”

  “No.” She drew in a shuddery breath. “None of that matters to me, Auric.” It never had. “I’ve never longed for an elaborate affair before a sea of lords and ladies who do not matter.”

  He released her hands and she mourned the loss of that simple, yet enticing, caress. “What do you desire?” There was an earnestness to his tone. As though should she call for the stars, he’d capture her the moon. “What do you want, Daisy?”

  When was the last time anyone had wondered as to her wishes or desires?

  She stood, her gaze fixed on the blood-red, distorted heart she attempted to capture on the fabric in her embroidery frame. She picked it up and ran her finger absently over the gold thread stitched crookedly onto the fabric. “I want a family, Auric.” Something she’d once had, but lost. Daisy looked at him once more. “I want to love and be loved.” Did his cheeks go waxen? The frissons of unease worked down her spine. Not once has he spoken to you of love, Daisy, a dark voice niggled. But then, neither had she. “That is all,” she finished lamely.

  Chapter 15

  That is all.

  She may as well have asked for the moon and the stars, and where he would have sought to climb into the sky and gather her a handful, could he love her, as she deserved? For with her seemingly innocent words of children between them, she roused images of his and Daisy’s bodies moving as one in a beautiful, synchronized rhythm. And he wanted her and those children belonging to her. His body ached with the desire to explore her and brand the silken softness of her skin in his palms, cupping her generous breasts and—

  A garbled groan lodged in his throat.

  Daisy fiddled with that silly frame. Wordlessly, she carried it over to the window and stared out into the streets below. Then she angled her body back to face him. “It occurs to me, for everything we know of each other, we don’t truly know each other, do we?”

  “Of course we do,” he said, frowning at her words. But for himself, he knew her better than anyone. “Your favorite color is blue.”

  She widened her eyes with surprise. “You remember that?”

  His silent, cowardly self still fearful of the implications of her own admission moments ago, urged him to lie. “Of course I remember that, Daisy,” he said gruffly. There was not a single detail he did not recall where she was concerned. Society would have deemed her a horrid painter.

  “My mother said it was merely paint splattered upon the canvas,” she said more to herself.

  Auric, however, had only seen the stunning mastery of color. The masterpieces she’d turned out for his and Lionel’s inspection had captured more shades of blue than he’d ever known existed. “I admired that you weren’t restrained by Society’s dictates.” With the memories of their past unraveling between them, he wandered down a more and more irreversible path, cementing this new relationship in which they were more strangers than not.

  “But that isn’t truly knowing someone,” she said softly. “The color I like or the colors I hate—”

  “Orange and purple,” he supplied automatically.

  “—do not speak to the dreams I carry in my heart.”

  He fell silent. For in this, she spoke true. Beyond that shockingly intimate desire she’d shared of love and a family, he didn’t truly know Daisy’s interests. He knew sometime in the recent years she’d taken up embroidering, but didn’t know why or if she’d been made to or whether she merely challenged herself with the tedious task, and God help him, he longed to know all those pieces of her. Auric drew in a slow, staggering breath as he realized—he wanted to know everything there was to know about Daisy. He wanted to know the things that made her smile now as a woman, the tasks she enjoyed and, more importantly, he had a desire to know why she enjoyed them.

  “For everything we’ve shared, and as long as we’ve known each other, there is so much we do not know of each other, even so.” Her words served as an echo to his tumultuous thoughts.

  Drawn to her like the siren, Calypso, his legs of their own volition carried him clo
ser and closer until a mere hairsbreadth separated them. “What do you wish to know?” His words emerged husky.

  She tipped her head back. “What do you desire, Auric?”

  You. The word hung, unspoken on his lips. I desire you. Since that fateful night seven years ago, he’d not taken another woman into his bed. He hungered for her the way a starving man longed for food. And yet, this force of emotion that gripped him defied a mere physical awareness. “Peace.” The word danced in the air between them. “I desire peace.” And escape from the hellish memories he carried, memories he likely always would.

  Daisy slipped her hand into his and raised their interlocked fingers. This again, that bond shared by only them who’d known this tragic loss. “Then we shall know peace together.”

  Warmth slipped inside his heart. The cold and hollow organ stirred to life.

  She studied their joined hands. “Surely, you desire more than peace.” Daisy raised her gaze. “Your courtship of Lady Stanhope was not borne of a hope for peace alone.”

  There had been a great appeal in the lovely, young, blonde woman who’d not fawned over his title as every other lady of marriageable age. Yet, a good deal of that had stemmed from her absolute disconnect from the darkest part of his life. The countess did not know the shameful details of his youth, or the horrors of that night. Daisy, on the other hand, would be forever intrinsically connected to the whole of his past.

  After a long stretch of silence, Daisy let her arm fall back to her side and his hand went cold at the loss of her reassuring touch.

  Auric brushed his knuckles under her chin, tipping her gaze back to his. “Come, surely you’d not have me speak of my previous courtship?”

  “Yes, yes I would,” she said with the same boldness he’d come to expect of Lady Daisy Meadows through the years. She pinked, as though embarrassed by such an admission, but she stared on relentlessly. “Did you care for her?”

  Some, powerfully intense emotion in her eyes gave him pause. It was something that indicated his response was an important one and the wrong response would prove disastrous in ways he didn’t fully understand. “The lady didn’t fawn over my title,” he said, picking his way carefully through this exchange.