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Daisy And Matthew Quotes

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Daisy And Matthew Quotes

“Do you like that?” he whispered. “Yes, I…” She fought to speak between helpless gasps. “I thought…it was going to hurt.” “Not from this.” A smile touched his mouth. “Later, however, you might have cause for complaint.” A shimmer of sweat gathered on his face as he felt the pulsing of her body around his exploring finger. “I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he said raggedly. “I’ve wanted you for too long.” “I trust you,” she whispered. Matthew shook his head, easing his hand away from her. “You have terrible judgment. You’re in bed with the last man in the world you should trust, and you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life.” “Is this your idea of seductive banter?” “I thought I should give you one last warning. Now you’re doomed.” “Oh, good.” Daisy moved to help him as he stripped off her drawers and stockings.”

DoomedDaisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Swift came to the table and bowed politely. “My lady,” he said to Lillian, “what a pleasure it is to see you again. May I offer my renewed congratulations on your marriage to Lord Westcliff, and…” He hesitated, for although Lillian was obviously pregnant, it would be impolite to refer to her condition. “…you are looking quite well,” he finished. “I’m the size of a barn,” Lillian said flatly, puncturing his attempt at diplomacy. Swift’s mouth firmed as if he was fighting to suppress a grin. “Not at all,” he said mildly, and glanced at Annabelle and Evie. They all waited for Lillian to make the introductions. Lillian complied grudgingly. “This is Mr. Swift,” she muttered, waving her hand in his direction. “Mrs. Simon Hunt and Lady St. Vincent.” Swift bent deftly over Annabelle’s hand. He would have done the same for Evie except she was holding the baby. Isabelle’s grunts and whimpers were escalating and would soon become a full-out wail unless something was done about it. “That is my daughter Isabelle,” Annabelle said apologetically. “She’s teething.” That should get rid of him quickly, Daisy thought. Men were terrified of crying babies. “Ah.” Swift reached into his coat and rummaged through a rattling collection of articles. What on earth did he have in there? She watched as he pulled out his pen-knife, a bit of fishing line and a clean white handkerchief. “Mr. Swift, what are you doing?” Evie asked with a quizzical smile. “Improvising something.” He spooned some crushed ice into the center of the handkerchief, gathered the fabric tightly around it, and tied it off with fishing line. After replacing the knife in his pocket, he reached for the baby without one trace of self-consciusness. Wide-eyed, Evie surrendered the infant. The four women watched in astonishment as Swift took Isabelle against his shoulder with practiced ease. He gave the baby the ice-filled handkerchief, which she proceeded to gnaw madly even as she continued to cry. Seeming oblivious to the fascinated stares of everyone in the room, Swift wandered to the window and murmured softly to the baby. It appeared he was telling her a story of some kind. After a minute or two the child quieted. When Swift returned to the table Isabelle was half-drowsing and sighing, her mouth clamped firmly on the makeshift ice pouch. “Oh, Mr. Swift,” Annabelle said gratefully, taking the baby back in her arms, “how clever of you! Thank you.” “What were you saying to her?” Lillian demanded. He glanced at her and replied blandly, “I thought I would distract her long enough for the ice to numb her gums. So I gave her a detailed explanation of the Buttonwood agreement of 1792.” Daisy spoke to him for the first time. “What was that?” Swift glanced at her then, his face smooth and polite, and for a second Daisy half-believed that she had dreamed the events of that morning. But her skin and nerves still retained the sensation of him, the hard imprint of his body. “The Buttonwood agreement led to the formation of the New York Stock and Exchange Board,” Swift said. “I thought I was quite informative, but it seemed Miss Isabelle lost interest when I started on the fee-structuring compromise.” “I see,” Daisy said. “You bored the poor baby to sleep.” “You should hear my account of the imbalance of market forces leading to the crash of ’37,” Swift said. “I’ve been told it’s better than laudanum.”

Daisy And MatthewEvieLillianAnnabelle And Isabelle
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“I have to leave,” he whispered against her hair. “No, stay.” Her face turned, her lips nuzzling the bare skin of his chest. “Stay all night. Stay forever.” He smiled and kissed her temple. “I would. But somehow I think your family would take exception to my debauching you before we were properly betrothed.” “I don’t feel debauched.” “I do,” Matthew said. Daisy smiled. “I’d better marry you, then.”

Daisy And MatthewDebauched
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Is it really ten ladies dancing?" Lillian asked him, and Swift grinned. "My lady, I've never been able to remember any part of that song." "You know," Annabelle said contemplatively, "I've always understood why the swans are swimming and the geese are a-laying. But why in heaven's name are the lords a-leaping?" "They're chasing after the ladies," Swift said reasonably. "Actually I believe the song was referring to Morris dancers, who used to entertain between courses at long medieval feasts," Daisy informed them. "And it was a leaping sort of dance?" Lillian asked, intrigued. "Yes, with longswords, after the manner of primitive fertility rites." "A well-read woman is a dangerous creature," Swift commented with a grin, leaning down to press his lips against Daisy's dark hair.”

Daisy And MatthewDaisy BowmanWallflowersWell ReadMatthew SwiftDaisy SwiftTwelve Days Of Christmas
Book:A Wallflower Christmas
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“He traced the line of her collarbone, and the side of her throat. “Did I hurt you, Daisy?” he whispered. “Well, it was rather uncomfortable when you—” she stopped and blushed. “But I expected that. My friends told me it improves after the first time.” His fingertips wandered to the outline of her ear, and the blood-heated curve of her cheek. There was a smile in his voice as he said, “I’ll do my best to see that it does.”

First TimeDaisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you,” he whispered one night, cuddling her while the moonlight made stripes across the shadowed hills of the bedclothes. “Why?” Daisy whispered back, crawling over him until she was draped over the muscled surface of his chest. He played with the dark cascade of her hair. “Because I shouldn’t come to you like this until we’re married. There’s a risk—” Daisy silenced him with her mouth, not stopping until his breath had hastened and his bare skin was as hot as a stove-plate beneath her. She lifted her head to smile down into his gleaming eyes. “All or nothing,” she murmured. “That’s how I want you.”

Daisy And MatthewAll Or Nothing
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“She found another intriguing object, and she held it up to inspect it. A button. Her brow creased as she stared at the front of the button, which was engraved with a pattern of a windmill. The back of it contained a tiny lock of black hair behind a thin plate of glass, held in place with a copper rim. Swift blanched and reached for it, but Daisy snatched it back, her fingers closing around the button. Daisy's pulse began to race. "I've seen this before," she said. "It was a part of a set. My mother had a waistcoat made for Father with five buttons. One was engraved with a windmill, another with a tree, another with a bridge... she took a lock of hair from each of her children and put it inside a button. I remember the way she took a little snip from my hair at the back where it wouldn't show." Still not looking at her, Swift reached for the discarded contents of his pocket and methodically replaced them. As the silence drew out, Daisy waited in vain for an explanation. Finally she reached out and took hold of his sleeve. His arm stilled, and he stared at her fingers on his coat fabric. "How did you get it?" she whispered. Swift waited so long that she thought he might answer. Finally he spoke with a quiet surliness that wrenched her heart. "Your father wore the waistcoat to the company offices. It was much admired. But later that day he was in a temper and in the process of throwing an ink bottle he spilled some on himself. The waistcoat was ruined. Rather than face your mother with the news he gave the garment to me, buttons and all, and told me to dispose of it." "But you kept one button." Her lungs expanded until her chest felt tight on the inside and her heartbeat was frantic. "The windmill. Which was mine. Have you... have you carried a lock of my hair all these years?”

Daisy And MatthewButtonKeepsakeLock Of Hair
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“In the past few years it had become a rare luxury for all of them to be together at once, especially since Daisy stayed in America with her husband, Matthew, for long periods of time. The trips were necessary for both of them: Matthew was a successful business entrepreneur, and Daisy was a successful novelist with a publisher in New York as well as London.”

Successful PeopleNovelistDaisy And MatthewWallflowersDaisy Swift
Book:Devil's Daughter
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“Are you sorry it happened?” Her fingers clenched as she waited tensely for his answer. “Good Lord, no.” He brought her small fist to his mouth and kissed it open, and flattened her palm against the side of his face. “It’s what I’ve wanted most in my entire life. And the one thing I knew I could never have. I’m surprised. Shocked, even. But never sorry.” Daisy turned and snuggled against him, sandwiching one of his thighs between her own. The rain beat out a brisk song against the side of the house, some of it coming through the window. Considering the idea of getting out of bed, Daisy shivered a little, and felt Matthew draw the covers higher over her bare shoulder. “Daisy,” he asked without heat, “where is the damn key?” “I put it in your coat pocket,” she said helpfully. “Didn’t you see? No?…well, I suppose you were distracted at the time.” She trailed her hand over his chest, letting her palm graze the point of his nipple. “You’re probably angry with me for locking us in the bedroom.” “Enraged,” he agreed. “I insist you do it every night after we’re married.” “Are we going to get married?” Daisy whispered, raising her head. His eyes were warm, but there was no hint of pleasure in his voice. “Yes, we’re going to marry. Although you’ll probably hate me for it someday.” “Why in the world would I…oh.” Daisy remembered what he had told her about the likelihood of his past catching up to him someday. “I could never hate you,” she said. “And I’m not afraid of your secrets, Matthew. Whatever comes, I’ll face it with you. Although you should know I find it exasperating when you throw out comments like that and refuse to explain.” There was a sudden catch of laughter in his chest. “That’s only one of many reasons you find me exasperating.” “True.” She crawled on top of him and nuzzled his chest like an inquisitive kitten. “But I like exasperating men much more than the nice ones.”

Daisy And MatthewExasperating Men
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Ironically,” she commented, “this will be the first time I’ve ever done anything to please my father.” With a sympathetic murmur, Matthew gathered Daisy close against him. He knew her father as well as anyone, having become well acquainted with the man’s tempers, his self-absorption, his impossible standards. And yet he understood what it had required for Bowman to build a great fortune from scratch, the sacrifices he’d had to make. Bowman had discarded everything that would have gotten in the way of achieving his goals. Including closeness with his wife and children. For the first time it occurred to Matthew that Bowman and his family would benefit from someone acting as a mediator, to ease their communications with each other. If such a thing were in his power, he would find a way to do it. “You,” he whispered in Daisy’s hair, “are the best thing he’s ever done. Someday he’ll realize that.” He felt her smile against his skin. “I doubt it. But it’s nice of you to say so. You don’t have to be concerned on that account, you know. I reconciled myself to the way he was a long time ago.” Once again Matthew was taken unaware by the extent of the feelings she inspired in him, his own limitless desire to fill her with happiness. “Whatever you need,” he whispered, “Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you. Just tell me.” Daisy stretched comfortably, a pleasant shiver running through her limbs. She touched his lips with her fingers, tracing the smoothness. “I want to know what your five-dollar wish was for.” “Is that all?” He smiled beneath her exploring fingertips. “I wished you would find someone who wanted you as much as I did. But I knew it wouldn’t come true.” The candlelight slid over Daisy’s delicate features as she raised her head to look at him. “Why not?” “Because I knew no one could ever want you as much as I do.” Daisy levered herself farther over him until her hair tumbled in a dark curtain around them both. “What was your wish?” Matthew asked, combing his fingers through the fall of shimmering hair. “That I could find the right man to marry.” Her tender smile stopped his heart. “And then you appeared.”

WishesDaisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Matthew turned as he became aware of someone approaching from behind. It was the pair of constables, looking disgruntled. “It’s procedure for lawbreakers to wear ’and cuffs while they’re being transported to Bow Street,” one of them said. He gave Daisy an accusing glance. “Pardon, miss, but what did you do with the cuffs that was removed from Mr. Phelan?” Daisy looked back at him innocently. “I gave them to a maidservant. I’m afraid she’s very forgetful. She probably misplaced them.” “Where should we start looking?” the officer asked with a puff of impatience. Her expression did not change as she replied, “I would suggest a thorough search of all the chamberpots.”

Daisy And MatthewChamberpotsConstables
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Not," Swift said firmly, "for all the tea in China." "That expression has never made sense to me," she told him. "In terms of total world production, India grows far more tea than China." Swift's lips twitched as he considered the point. "Since China is the leading international producer of hemp," he said, "I suppose one could say 'Not for all the hemp in China'... but it doesn't have the same ring.”

Daisy And MatthewNot For All The Tea In China
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Companionably he handed her a small glass filled with rich, plum-red liquid. Receiving it with some surprise, Daisy held it up to her nose for a cautious sniff. "Madeira," she said with a smile. "Thank you. Although celebration is a bit premature since the baby still isn't here." "This isn't for celebration. It's to help you relax." "How did you know what my favorite wine was?" she asked. He shrugged. "A lucky guess." But somehow she knew it hadn't been luck.”

Daisy And MatthewMadeira
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“There was a fascinating duality about Matthew that Daisy had never encountered in another man. At some moments he was the aggressive, sharp-eyed, buttoned-up businessman who rattled off facts and figures with ease. At other times he was a gentle, understanding lover who shed his cynicism like an old coat and engaged her in playful debates about which ancient culture had the best mythology, or what Thomas Jefferson's favorite vegetable had been. (Although Daisy was convinced it was green peas, Matthew had made an excellent case for tomatoes.) They had long conversations about subjects like history and progressive politics. For a man from a conservative Brahmin background, he had a surprising awareness of reform issues. Usually in their relentless climb up the social ladder, enterprising men forgot about those who had been left on the bottom rungs. Daisy thought it spoke well of Matthew's character that he had a genuine concern for those less fortunate than himself.”

CompassionateDaisy And MatthewThomas JeffersonDebatesMatthew Swift
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“With Matthew at her side, Daisy browsed the row of wooden stalls that had been erected along High Street, filled with fabrics, toys, millinery, silver jewelry, and glassware. She was determined to see and do as much as possible in a short time, for Westcliff had strongly advised them to return to the manor well before midnight. “The later the hour, the more unrestrained the merrymaking tends to become,” the earl had said meaningfully. “Under the influence of wine—and behind the concealment of masks—people tend to do things they would never think of doing in the light of day.” “Oh, what’s a little fertility ritual here or there?” Daisy had scoffed cheerfully. “I’m not so innocent that I—” “We’ll be back early,” Matthew had told the earl.”

MarcusDaisy And MatthewMay Day Festival
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Now as they made their way through the exuberantly crowded village, Daisy understood what Westcliff had meant. It was still early evening, and already it appeared that copiously flowing wine had loosened inhibitions. People were embracing, arguing, laughing and playing. Some were laying floral wreaths at the base of the oldest oak trees, or pouring wine at the roots, or… “Good Lord,” Daisy said, her attention caught by a perplexing sight in the distance, “what are they doing to that poor tree?” Matthew’s hands clasped her head and firmly aimed her face in another direction. “Don’t look.” “Was it some form of tree-worship or—” “Let’s go watch the rope-dancers,” he said with sudden enthusiasm, guiding her to the other side of the green.”

Daisy And MatthewSome Form Of Tree Worship
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“They walked slowly past fire-swallowers, conjurors and tumblers, pausing to purchase a skin of new wine. Daisy drank carefully from the wineskin, but a drop escaped from the corner of her lips. Matthew smiled and began to reach into his pocket for a handkerchief, then appeared to think better of it. Instead he ducked his head and kissed away the wine droplet. “You’re supposed to be protecting me from impropriety,” she said with a grin, “and instead you’re leading me astray.” The backs of his knuckles stroked gently against the side of her face. “I’d like to lead you astray,” he murmured. “In fact, I’d like to lead you straight into those woods and…” He seemed to lose his train of thought as he stared into her soft, dark eyes. “Daisy Bowman,” he whispered. “I wish—” But she was never to find out what his wish was, because she was abruptly pushed into him as a crowd jostled past. Everyone was bent on obtaining a view of a pair of jugglers who had clubs and hoops spinning in the air between them. In the rush the wineskin was knocked from Daisy’s hands and trampled underfoot. Matthew put his arms around her protectively. “I dropped the wine,” Daisy said regretfully. “Just as well.” His mouth lowered to her ear, his lips brushing the delicate outer rim. “It might have gone to my head. And then you might have taken advantage of me.” Daisy smiled and snuggled against his hard form, her senses delighting in the reassuring warmth of his embrace. “Are my designs on you that obvious?” she asked in a muffled voice. He nuzzled into the soft space beneath her earlobe. “I’m afraid so.”

Daisy And MatthewObvious Designs
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Daisy decided to regain Matthew’s attention. “Of course,” she said casually, “we don’t have to have a wedding ceremony at all. We can simply adhere to the classic marriage-by-purchase. Give my father a cow, and we’ll be done with it. Or perhaps we’ll do a handfasting ritual. Of course, there’s always the ancient Greek practice in which I would cut off all my hair as a sacrifice and dedicate it to Artemis, followed by a ritual bath in a sacred spring—” Suddenly Daisy found herself flat on her back, the sky partially blocked by Matthew’s dark form. She let out a gasp of laughter at the suddenness with which he had thrown aside his fishing rod and pounced on her. His blue eyes gleamed with mischief. “I would consider the cow exchange or the handfasting,” he said. “But I draw the line at marrying a hairless bride.” Daisy relished the weight of him pressing her back against the spongy grass, the scents of earth and herbs all around them. “What about the ritual bath?” she asked. “That you can do. In fact…” His long fingers reached for the buttons at the front of her dress. “…I think you should practice. I’ll help you.”

Daisy And MatthewRitual Bath
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“He sat on the edge of the mattress, his nerves sizzling as Daisy gathered up the loose folds of her nightgown. She crawled into his lap with the delicacy of a cat. The scent of sweet female skin filled his nostrils, and her weight settled on his thighs. Linking her slender arms around his neck, she said gravely, “I missed you.” His palms charted the shape of her body; the tender curves, the slender waist, the firm heart-shaped bottom. But as enchanting as he found Daisy’s physical charms, they didn’t affect him a fraction as intensely as the warm, lively intelligence of her nature. “I missed you too.” Daisy’s fingers played in his hair, the delicate touch sending jolts of pleasure from the base of his skull to his groin. Her voice turned provocative. “Did you meet many women in Bristol? Westcliff mentioned something about a dinner, and a soirée given by your host—” “I didn’t notice any women.” Matthew found it hard to think over the exquisite writhing desire. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” She touched the tip of her nose to his in a playful nudge. “You weren’t celibate in the past, however.” “No,” Matthew admitted, closing his eyes as he felt the caress of her breath against his skin. “It’s a lonely feeling, wishing the woman in your arms was someone else. Not long before I left New York, I realized that every woman I’d been with in the past seven years had resembled you in some way. One would have your eyes, another your hands, or your hair…I thought I would spend the rest of my life searching for little reminders of you. I thought—” Her mouth pressed against his, absorbing the raw confession.”

Daisy And MatthewOnly Want You
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Her nerves, sated as they were, stirred beneath the caress of his fingertips. “Matthew…what will happen next? Will you speak to my father?” “Not yet. In the interest of preserving at least a semblance of decorum, I’m going to wait until I return from Bristol. By that time most of the guests will have left, and the family will be able to deal with the situation in relative privacy.” “My father will be overjoyed. But Mother will have conniptions. And Lillian…” “Will explode.” Daisy sighed. “My brothers aren’t too fond of you, either.” “Really,” he said in mock surprise.”

Daisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Daisy stared worriedly into his shadowed face. “What if you change your mind about me? What if you come back and tell me that you were wrong, you don’t want to marry me, and—” “No,” Matthew said, stroking the rampant black waves of her hair. “There’s no turning back. I’ve taken your innocence. I’m not going to avoid my responsibility.” Disgruntled by the choice of words, Daisy frowned. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “The way you put it…your responsibility…as if you have to atone for some terrible mistake. It’s not the most romantic thing to say, especially in present circumstances.” “Oh.” Matthew grinned suddenly. “I’m not a romantic man, sweetheart. You knew that already.” He bent his head and kissed the side of her neck, and nipped at her ear. “But I am responsible for you now.” He worked his way down to her shoulder. “For your safety…your welfare…your pleasure…and I take my responsibilities very seriously…” He kissed her breasts, drawing the taut peaks into the melting heat of his mouth. His hand parted her thighs and played gently between them. A moan of pleasure slipped from her throat, and he smiled. “You make the sweetest sounds,” he murmured. “When I touch you like this…and this…and the way you cry out when you come for me…” Her face burned. She tried to be quiet, but in another moment he had coaxed another helpless moan from her. “Matthew…?” Her toes curled as she felt him slip lower, his tongue tickling the hollow of her navel. His voice was muffled by the covers that tented over his head. “Yes, chatterbox?” “Are you going to do—” she paused with a gasp as she felt him push her knees apart, “—what you did before?” “It would seem so.”

ResponsibilitiesDaisy And MatthewGoing To Do What You Did Before
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Daisy pulled away from Swift’s grasp. “You’ve changed,” she said, trying to collect herself. “You haven’t,” he replied. It was impossible to tell whether the remark was intended as compliment or criticism. “What were you doing at the well?” “I was…I thought…” Daisy searched in vain for a sensible explanation, but could think of nothing. “It’s a wishing well.” His expression was solemn, but there was a suspicious flicker in his vivid blue eyes as if he were secretly amused. “You have this on good authority, I take it?” “Everyone in the local village visits it,” Daisy replied testily. “It’s a legendary wishing well.” He was staring at her the way she had always hated, absorbing everything, no detail escaping his notice. Daisy felt her cheeks turn blood-hot beneath his scrutiny. “What did you wish for?” he asked. “That’s private.” “Knowing you,” he said, “it could be anything.”

WishesDaisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“At the conclusion of the vows, despite Mercedes’s previous stern admonitions that the groom was not to kiss the bride, as the custom was never followed by people in the best society…Matthew tugged Daisy up to him and crushed a hard kiss on her lips in full view of everyone. There was a gasp or two, and a ripple of friendly laughter through the crowd. Daisy glanced up into her husband’s sparkling eyes. “You’re being scandalous, Mr. Swift,” she whispered. “This is nothing,” Matthew replied in an undertone, his expression soft with love. “I’m saving my worst behavior for tonight.”

ScandalousDaisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“The strangeness of the situation... the baleful goose, Matthew Swift waterlogged and dressed in his shirtsleeves... caused an irrepressible giggle to rise to Daisy's lips. Hastily she clapped her hand over her mouth, but it came out anyway. He shook his head, while an answering smile broke out on his face. Daisy noticed that his smiles never lasted for long, they vanished as quickly as they appeared. It was like catching sight of some rare natural phenomenon, like a shooting star, brief and striking. "If you tell anyone about this, you little imp... you'll pay." The words were threatening, but something in his tone... an erotic softness... sent a hot-and-cold chill down her spine.”

Daisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“She felt a pang of excitement as she realized it was not Mr. Hunt but Matthew Swift. He rose from his chair, and Daisy said bashfully, "No, please, I'm sorry to have interrupted..." Her voice trailed away as she noticed there was something different about him. He was wearing a pair of thin, steel-framed spectacles. Spectacles, on that strong-featured face... and his hair mussed as if he had been tugging absently on the front locks. All that combined with a plentitude of muscles and masculine virility was astonishingly... erotic. "When did you start wearing those?" Daisy managed to ask. "About a year ago." He smiled ruefully and removed the spectacles with one hand. "I need them to read. Too many late nights poring over contracts and reports." "They... they are very becoming." "Are they?" Continuing to smile, Swift shook his head, as if it had not occurred to him to wonder about his appearance.”

SpectaclesDaisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Feeling the slight tremor of his fingers against her skin, Daisy was emboldened to remark, “I’ve never been attracted to tall men before. But you make me feel—” “If you don’t keep quiet,” he interrupted curtly, “I’m going to strangle you.” Daisy felt silent, listening to the rhythm of his breath as it turned deeper, less controlled. By contrast his fingers became more certain in their task, working along the row of pearls until her dress gaped open and the sleeves slipped from her shoulders. “Where is it?” he asked. “The key?” His tone was deadly. “Yes, Daisy. The key.” “It fell inside my corset. Which means… I’ll have to take that off too.” There was no reaction to the statement, no sound or movement. Daisy twisted to glance at Matthew. He seemed dazed. His eyes looked unnaturally blue against the flush on his face. She realized he was occupied with a savage inner battle to keep from touching her. Feeling hot and prickly with embarrassment, Daisy pulled her arms completely out of her sleeves. She worked the dress over her hips, wriggling out of the filmy white layers, letting them slide to the floor in a heap. Matthew stared at the discarded dress as if it were some kind of exotic fauna he had never seen before. Slowly his eyes returned to Daisy, and an incoherent protest came from his throat as she began to unhook her corset. She felt shy and wicked, undressing in front of him. But she was encouraged by the way he seemed unable to tear his gaze from each newly revealed inch of pale skin. When the last metal hook came apart, she tossed the web of lace and stays to the floor. All that remained over her breasts was a crumpled chemise. The key had dropped into her lap. Closing her fingers around the metal object, she risked a cautious glance at Matthew. His eyes were closed, his forehead scored with furrows of pained concentration. “This isn’t going to happen,” he said, more to himself than to her. Daisy leaned forward to tuck the key into his coat pocket. Gripping the hem of her chemise, she stripped it over her head. A tingling shock chased over her naked upper body. She was so nervous that her teeth had begun to chatter. “I just took my chemise off,” she said. “Don’t you want to look?” “No.” But his eyes had opened, and his gaze found her small, pink-tipped breasts, and the breath hissed through his clenched teeth. He sat without moving, staring at her as she untied his cravat and unbuttoned the layers of his waistcoat and shirt. She blushed everywhere but continued doggedly, rising to her knees to tug the coat from his shoulders. He moved like a dreamer, slowly pulling his arms from the coat sleeves and waistcoat. Daisy pushed his shirt open with awkward determination, her gaze drinking in the sight of his chest and torso. His skin gleamed like heavy satin, stretched taut over broad expanses of muscle. She touched the powerful vault of his ribs, trailing her fingertips to the rippled tautness of his midriff. Suddenly Matthew caught her hand, seemingly undecided whether to push it away or press it closer. Her fingers curled over his. She stared into his dilated blue eyes. “Matthew,” she whispered. “I’m here. I’m yours. I want to do everything you’ve ever imagined doing with me.” He stopped breathing. His will foundered and collapsed, and suddenly nothing mattered except the demands of a desire that had been denied too long. With a rough groan of surrender, he lifted her onto his lap.”

SurrenderDaisy And Matthew
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Matthew closed the door and turned toward her. He seemed very large in the small room, his broad frame dwarfing their civilized surroundings. Daisy’s mouth went dry as she stared at him. She wanted to be close to him… she wanted to feel all his skin against hers. “What is there between you and Llandrindon?” he demanded. “Nothing. Only friendship. On my side, that is.” “And on his side?” “I suspect— well, he seemed to indicate that he would not be averse to— you know.” “Yes, I know,” he said thickly. “And even though I can’t stand the bastard, I also can’t blame him for wanting you. Not after the way you’ve teased and tempted him all week.” “If you’re trying to imply that I’ve been acting like some femme fatale—” “Don’t try to deny it. I saw the way you flirted with him. The way you leaned close when you talked… the smiles, the provocative dresses…” “Provocative dresses?” Daisy asked in bemusement. “Like that one.” Daisy looked down at her demure white gown, which covered her entire chest and most of her arms. A nun couldn’t have found fault with it. She glanced at him sardonically. “I’ve been trying for days to make you jealous. You would have saved me a lot of effort if you’d just admitted it straight off.” “You were deliberately trying to make me jealous?” he exploded. “What in God’s name did you think that would accomplish? Or is turning me inside out your latest idea of an entertaining hobby?” A sudden blush covered her face. “I thought you might feel something for me… and I hoped to make you admit it.” Matthew’s mouth opened and closed, but he couldn’t seem to speak. Daisy wondered uneasily what emotion was working on him. After a few moments he shook his head and leaned against the dresser as if he needed physical support. “Are you angry?” she asked apprehensively. His voice sounded odd and ragged. “Ten percent of me is angry.” “What about the other ninety percent?” “That part is just a hairsbreadth away from throwing you on that bed and—” Matthew broke off and swallowed hard. “Daisy, you’re too damned innocent to understand the danger you’re in. It’s taking all the self-control I’ve got to keep my hands off you. Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. It’s too easy for you to torture me, and I’m at my limit. To put to rest any doubts you might have… I’m jealous of every man who comes within ten feet of you. I’m jealous of the clothes on your skin and the air you breathe. I’m jealous of every moment you spend out of my sight.” Stunned, Daisy whispered, “You… you certainly haven’t shown any sign of it.” “Over the years I’ve collected a thousand memories of you, every glimpse, every word you’ve ever said to me. All those visits to your family’s home, those dinners and holidays— I could hardly wait to walk through the front door and see you.” The corners of his mouth quirked with reminiscent amusement. “You, in the middle of that brash, bull-headed lot… I love watching you deal with your family. You’ve always been everything I thought a woman should be. And I have wanted you every second of my life since we first met.”

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Book:Scandal in Spring
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“Although Daisy was the mildest-tempered of all the Bowmans, she was by no means a coward. And she would not accept defeat without a fight. “You’re forcing me to take desperate measures,” she said. His reply was very soft. “There’s nothing you can do.” He had left her no choice. Daisy turned the key in the lock and carefully withdrew it. The decisive click was abnormally loud in the silence of the room. Calmly Daisy tugged the top edge of her bodice away from her chest. She held the key above the narrow gap. Matthew’s eyes widened as he understood what she intended. “You wouldn’t.” As he started around the dresser, Daisy dropped the key into her bodice, making certain it slipped beneath her corset. She sucked in her stomach and midriff until she felt the cold metal slide to her navel. “Damn it!” Matthew reached her with startling speed. He reached out to touch her, then jerked his hands back as if he had just encountered open flame. “Take it out,” he commanded, his face dark with outrage. “I can’t.” “I mean it, Daisy!” “It’s fallen too far down. I’ll have to take my dress off.” It was obvious he wanted to kill her. But she could also feel the force of his longing. His lungs were working like bellows, and scorching heat radiated from his body. His whisper contained the ferocity of a roar. “Don’t do this to me.” Daisy waited patiently. The next move was his. He turned his back to her, the seams of his coat straining over bunched muscles. His fists clenched as he struggled to master himself. He took a shuddering breath, and another, and when he spoke his voice sounded thick, as if he had just awakened from a heavy sleep. “Take off your gown.” Trying not to antagonize him any more than was necessary, Daisy replied in an apologetic tone. “I can’t do it by myself. It buttons up the back.” Matthew said something in a muffled voice that sounded very foul. After an eternity of silence he turned to face her. His jaw could have been cast in iron. “I’m not going to fall apart that easily. I can resist you, Daisy. I’ve had years of practice. Turn around.” Daisy obeyed. As she bent her head forward, she could actually feel his gaze travel over the endless row of pearl buttons. “How do you ever get undressed?” he muttered. “I’ve never seen so many blasted buttons on one garment.” “It’s fashionable.” “It’s ridiculous.” “You can send a letter of protest to Godey’s Lady’s Book,” she suggested. Giving a scornful snort, Matthew began on the top button. He tried to unfasten it while avoiding contact with her body. “It helps if you slide your fingers beneath the placket,” Daisy said. “And then you can pop the button through the—” “Quiet,” he snapped. She closed her mouth.”

Daisy And MatthewFind The Key
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“The silky swirl of his tongue in the hollow of her navel sent fire licking through her veins. Hazily aware of the area his mouth was traversing, she stirred beneath him. Not seeming to realize just where he was kissing her, Matthew persisted, sliding lower until Daisy let out a muffled yelp and pushed hard at his encroaching head. “What is it?” he asked, rising to his elbows. Crimson with mortification, Daisy could hardly bring herself to explain. “You were too close to my…well, you accidentally…” As her voice faded, understanding dawned in Matthew’s eyes. Quickly he bent his head to hide his expression, and a tremor ran through his shoulders. He replied with great care, still looking away from her. “It wasn’t accidental. I meant to do that.” Daisy was astonished. “But you were going to kiss me right on my—” She broke off as his gaze met hers, laughter dancing in his blue eyes. He wasn’t embarrassed at all—he was amused. “You’re not shocked, are you?” he asked. “I thought you were well read.” “Well, no one would ever write about something like that.” He shrugged, his eyes glowing. “You’re the literary authority.” “You’re making fun of me,” she said. “Just a little,” he whispered, and kissed her stomach again. Her legs jerked against his restraining hands.”

Daisy And MatthewLiterary Authority
Book:Scandal in Spring
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“The silence lengthened, becoming strained and awkward until it was broken by the goose’s imperious honk. Swift glanced at the massive bird. “You have a companion, I see.” When Daisy explained what the two boys had been doing with the goose, Swift grinned. “Clever lads.” The remark did not strike Daisy as being especially compassionate. “I want to help him,” she said. “But when I tried to get near, he pecked me. I expected a domestic breed would have been a bit more receptive to my approach.” “Greylags are not known for their mild temperaments,” Swift informed her. “Particularly males. He was probably trying to show you who was boss.” “He proved his point,” Daisy said, rubbing her arm. Swift frowned as he saw the growing bruise on her arm. “Is that where he pecked you? Let me see.” “No, it’s all right—” she began, but he had already come forward. His long fingers encircled her wrist, the thumb of his other hand passing gently near the dark purple mark. “You bruise easily,” he murmured, his dark head bent over her arm. Daisy’s heart dispensed a series of hard thumps before settling into a fast rhythm. He smelled like the outdoors—sun, water, grassy-sweet. And deeper in the fragrance lingered the tantalizing incense of warm, sweaty male. She fought the instinct to move into his arms, against his body…to pull his hand to her breast. The mute craving shocked her. Glancing up at his downturned face, Daisy found his blue eyes staring right into hers. “I…” Nervously she pulled away from him. “What are we to do?” “About the goose?” His broad shoulders hitched in a shrug. “We could wring his neck and take him home for dinner.” The suggestion caused Daisy and the Greylag to stare at him in shared outrage. “That was a very poor joke, Mr. Swift.” “I wasn’t joking.” Daisy placed herself squarely between Swift and the goose. “I will deal with the situation on my own. You may leave now.” “I wouldn’t advise making a pet of him. You’ll eventually find him on your plate if you stay at Stony Cross Park long enough.” “I don’t care if it makes me a hypocrite,” she said. “I would rather not eat a goose I’m acquainted with.”

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“Do you know what I want from you?” she heard him ask hoarsely. “Do you understand what’s going to happen if we don’t stop?” “Yes.” Matthew lifted his head and gave her a doubtful glance. “I’m not as innocent as you might think,” Daisy said earnestly. “I’m very well read.” He turned his face away, and she had the impression he was fighting a smile. Then he looked back at her with piercing tenderness. “Daisy Bowman,” he said unevenly, “I’d spend eternity in hell for one hour with you.” “Is that how long it takes? An hour?” His reply was rueful. “Sweetheart, at this point it would be a miracle if I lasted one minute.”

Daisy And MatthewVery Well Read
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“Matthew knew it was wrong the instant their lips met. Because nothing would ever equal the perfection of Daisy in his arms. He was ruined for life. God help him, he didn’t care. Her mouth was soft and hot, like sunshine, like the white blaze of a heartwood fire. She gasped as he touched her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Slowly her hands came to his shoulders, and then he felt her fingers at the back of his head, sliding into his hair to keep him from pulling away. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening. Nothing could have made him stop. A tremor shook his fingers as he bracketed the exquisite line of her jaw in the open framework of his hand, gently angling her face upward. The flavor of her mouth, sweet and elusive, fueled a hunger that threatened to rage out of control… he searched the damp silk beyond her lips, deeper, harder, until she began to breathe in long sighs, her body molding against his. He let her feel how much stronger he was, how much heavier, one muscular arm clamped along her back, his feet spread to hold her between the powerful length of his thighs. Her upper half was bound in a laced and padded corset. He was almost overcome by a savage desire to tear away the stays and quilting and find the tender flesh beneath. Instead he sank his fingers into her pinned-up hair and tugged it backward until the weight of her head was cradled in his hand, and her pale throat was exposed. He searched for the pulse he had seen earlier, his lips dragging softly along the secret pathway of nerves beneath her skin. When he reached a senstive spot, he felt the vibration of her suppressed moan against his mouth. This was what it would be like to make love to her, he thought dazedly… the sweet shivering of her flesh as he entered her, the delicate chaos of her breath, the helpless sounds that rustled in her throat. Her skin, warm and female, scented like tea and talcum and a trace of salt. He found her mouth again, opened it, delving into wet silk, heat, and an intimate flavor that drove him mad. She should have struggled, but there was only yielding and more softness, driving him past all limits. He began to ravish her mouth with deep, twisting kisses, bringing her body rhythmically against his. He felt her legs part beneath her gown, his thigh fitting neatly between them. She squirmed with innocent desire, her face blooming with the color of late summer poppies. Had she understood exactly what he wanted from her, she would have done more than blush. She would have fainted on the spot. Lifting his mouth from hers, Matthew pressed his jaw against the side of her head. “I think,” he said raggedly, “this puts to rest any question of whether I find you desirable or not.”

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“Her nerves crackled with expectant heat as he reached for the sketchbook in her hand. Without thinking, she let him take it. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the book, which was open to her sketch of Llandrindon. “Why did you draw him with a beard?” he asked. “That’s not a beard,” Daisy said shortly. “It’s shadowing.” “It looks as if he hasn’t shaved in three months.” “I didn’t ask for your opinion on my artwork,” she snapped. She grabbed the sketchbook, but he refused to release it. “Let go,” she demanded, tugging with all her might, “or I’ll…” “You’ll what? Draw a portrait of me?” He released the book with a suddenness that caused her to stumble back a few steps. He held up his hands defensively. “No. Anything but that.” Daisy rushed at him and whacked his chest with the book.”

Daisy And Matthew
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“Gently he settled her back against him, and they watched the rain in silence. Daisy tried to remember if there had ever been a time in her life when she had felt so safe and content. No, she decided. Nothing could compare to this. Feeling her smile against his arm, Matthew murmured, “You like the rain.” “Yes.” She explored the hairy surface of his leg with her toes, rather amazed at how long his calves were. “Some things are always better when it’s raining. Like reading. Or sleeping. Or this.” “Lying in bed with me?” He sounded amused. Daisy nodded. “It feels as if we’re the only two people in the world.”

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“In light of the well’s legendary status,” Swift said, “I’d hate to overlook a good opportunity.” He reached into a pocket, rummaged briefly and pulled out a large silver coin. It had been forever since Daisy had seen American money. “You’re supposed to throw in a pin,” she said. “I don’t have a pin.” “That’s a five-dollar piece,” Daisy said in disbelief. “You’re not going to throw that away, are you?” “I’m not throwing it away. I’m making an investment. You’d better tell me the proper procedure for making wishes—it’s a lot of money to waste.” “You’re mocking me.” “I’m in deadly earnest. And since I’ve never done this before, some advice would be welcome.” He waited for her reply, and when it became evident that none was forthcoming, a touch of humor lurked in one corner of his mouth. “I’m going to toss the coin in regardless.” Daisy cursed herself. Even though it was obvious he was mocking her, she could not resist. A wish was not something that should be wasted, especially a five-dollar wish. Drat! She approached the well and said curtly, “First hold the coin in your palm until it’s warm from your hand.” Swift came to stand beside her. “And then?” “Close your eyes and concentrate on the thing you want most.” She let a scornful note enter her voice. “And it has to be a personal wish. It can’t be about something like mergers or banking trusts.” “I do think about things other than business affairs.” Daisy gave him a skeptical glance, and he astonished her with a brief smile. Had she ever seen him smile before? Perhaps once or twice. She had a vague past memory of such an occasion, when his face had been so gaunt that all she had received was an impression of white teeth fixed in a grimace that owed little to any feeling of good cheer. But this smile was just a bit off-center, which made it disarming and tantalizing…a flash of warmth that made her wonder exactly what kind of man lurked behind his sober exterior. Daisy was profoundly relieved when the smile disappeared and he was back to his usual stone-faced self. “Close your eyes,” she reminded him. “Put everything out of your mind except the wish.” His heavy lashes fell shut, giving her the chance to stare at him without having him stare back. It was not the sort of face a boy could wear comfortably…the features were too strong-boned, the nose too long, the jaw obstinate. But Swift had finally grown into his looks. The austere angles of his face had been softened by extravagant sweeps of black lashes and a wide mouth that hinted of sensuality. “What now?” he murmured, his eyes still closed. Staring at him, Daisy was horrified by the impulse that surged through her…to step nearer and explore the tanned skin of his cheeks with her fingertips. “When an image is fixed in your mind,” she managed to say, “open your eyes and toss the coin into the well.” His lashes lifted to reveal eyes as bright as fire trapped in blue glass. Without glancing at the well, he threw the coin right into the center of it.”

Daisy And Matthew
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“Levering himself upward, Swift reached for her hair, which had begun to fall from its pins. His fingers were gentle as he pulled feathers from the glinting black strands. For a silent minute or two they worked on each other. Daisy was so intent on the task that the impropriety of her position didn’t occur to her at first. For the first time she was close enough to notice the variegated blue of his eyes, ringed with cobalt at the outer edge of the irises. And the texture of his skin, satiny and sun-hued, with the shadow of close-shaven stubble on his jaw. She realized that Swift was deliberately avoiding her gaze, concentrating on finding every tiny piece of down in her hair. Suddenly she became aware of a simmering communication between their bodies, the solid strength of him beneath her, the incendiary drift of his breath against her cheek. His clothes were damp, the heat of his skin burning through wherever it pressed against hers. They both went still at the same moment, caught together in a half-embrace while every cell of Daisy’s skin seemed to fill with liquid fire. Fascinated, disoriented, she let herself relax into it, feeling the throb of her pulse in every extremity. There were no more feathers, but Daisy found herself gently lacing her fingers through the dark waves of his hair. It would be so easy for him to roll her beneath him, his weight pressing her into the damp earth. The hardness of their knees pressed together through layers of fabric, triggering a primitive instinct for her to open to him, to let him move her limbs as he would. She heard Swift’s breath catch. He clamped his hands around her upper arms and unceremoniously removed her from his lap. Landing on the grass beside him with a decisive thump, Daisy tried to gather her wits. Silently she found the pen-knife on the ground and handed it back to him. After slipping the knife back into his pocket, he made a project of brushing feathers and dirt from his calves. Wondering why he was sitting in such an oddly cramped posture, Daisy struggled to her feet. “Well,” she said uncertainly, “I suppose I’ll have to sneak back into the manor through the servants’ entrance. If Mother sees me, she’ll have conniptions.” “I’m going back to the river,” Swift said, his voice hoarse. “To find out how Westcliff is faring with the reel. And maybe I’ll fish some more.” Daisy frowned as she realized he was deliberately avoiding her. “I should think you’d had enough of standing up to your waist in cold water today,” she said. “Apparently not,” Swift muttered, keeping his back to her as he reached for his vest and coat.”

Daisy And Matthew
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“Swift released the bowl in a strong drive. It sped obediently down the green, perfectly reproducing Daisy’s shot, though with more calculated momentum. Hitting Daisy’s bowl cleanly off the grass, it took her place right in front of the jack. “He knocked my bowl into the ditch,” Daisy protested. “Is that legal?” “Oh, yes,” Lord Llandrindon said. “A bit ruthless, but perfectly legal. Now it is properly referred to as a ‘dead bowl.’” “My bowl is dead?” Daisy asked indignantly. Swift returned her scowl with an implacable glance. “Never do an enemy a small injury.” “Only you would quote Machiavelli during lawn bowling,” Daisy said through gritted teeth. “Pardon,” Lord Llandrindon said politely, “but I believe it’s my turn.” Seeing that neither of them were paying attention, he shrugged and went to the delivery line. His bowl careened down the green and ended just beyond the jack. “I always play to win,” Swift said to Daisy. “Good God,” Daisy said in exasperation, “you sound exactly like my father. Have you ever considered the possibility that some people play just for the fun of it? As a pleasant activity to pass the time? Or must everything be brought down to life-and-death conflict?” “If you’re not out to win, the game is pointless.” Seeing that she had completely slipped from Swift’s notice, Cassandra Leighton sought to intervene. “I fancy it’s my shot now, Mr. Swift. Would you please be so kind as to retrieve a bowl for me?” Swift complied with barely a glance at her, his attention riveted on Daisy’s small, tense face. “Here,” he said brusquely, thrusting the bowl into Miss Leighton’s hands. “Perhaps you could advise me…” Miss Leighton began, but her voice faded as Swift and Daisy continued to bicker. “All right, Mr. Swift,” Daisy said coolly. “If you can’t enjoy a simple game of bowls without making it into a war, you’ll have a war. We’ll play for points.” She wasn’t quite certain if she had moved forward or if he had, but suddenly they were standing very close, his head bent over hers. “You can’t beat me,” Swift said in a low voice. “You’re a novice, and a woman besides. It wouldn’t be fair unless I was assigned a handicap.” “Your teammate is Miss Leighton,” she whispered sharply. “In my opinion, that’s enough of a handicap. And are you implying that women can’t bowl as well as men?” “No. I’m saying straight out they can’t.” Daisy felt a rush of outrage, augmented by a fiery desire to pound him into the ground. “War,” she repeated, stalking back to her side of the green.”

Daisy And MatthewLawn Bowling
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“Children.” Westcliff’s sardonic voice caused them both to look at him blankly. He was standing from his chair and stretching underused muscles. “I’m afraid this has gone on long enough for me. You are welcome to continue playing, but I beg to take leave.” “But who will arbitrate?” Daisy protested. “Since no one has been keeping score for at least a half hour,” the earl said dryly, “there is no further need for my judgement.” “Yes we have,” Daisy argued, and turned to Swift. “What is the score?” “I don’t know.” As their gazes held, Daisy could hardly restrain a snicker of sudden embarrassment. Amusement glittered in Swift’s eyes. “I think you won,” he said. “Oh, don’t condescend to me,” Daisy said. “You’re ahead. I can take a loss. It’s part of the game.” “I’m not being condescending. It’s been point-for-point for at least…” Swift fumbled in the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a watch. “…two hours.” “Which means that in all likelihood you preserved your early lead.” “But you chipped away at it after the third round—” “Oh, hell’s bells!” came Lillian’s voice from the sidelines. She sounded thoroughly aggravated, having gone into the manor for a nap and come out to find them still at the bowling green. “You’ve quarreled all afternoon like a pair of ferrets, and now you’re fighting over who won. If someone doesn’t put a stop to it, you’ll be squabbling out here ’til midnight. Daisy, you’re covered with dust and your hair is a bird’s nest. Come inside and put yourself to rights. Now.” “There’s no need to shout,” Daisy replied mildly, following her sister’s retreating figure. She glanced over her shoulder at Matthew Swift…a friendlier glance than she had ever given him before, then turned and quickened her pace. Swift began to pick up the wooden bowls. “Leave them,” Westcliff said. “The servants will put things in order. Your time is better spent preparing yourself for supper, which will commence in approximately one hour.” Obligingly Matthew dropped the bowls and went toward the house with Westcliff. He watched Daisy’s small, sylphlike form until she disappeared from sight. Westcliff did not miss Matthew’s fascinated gaze. “You have a unique approach to courtship,” he commented. “I wouldn’t have thought beating Daisy at lawn games would catch her interest, but it seems to have done the trick.” Matthew contemplated the ground before his feet, schooling his tone into calm unconcern. “I’m not courting Miss Bowman.” “Then it seems I misinterpreted your apparent passion for bowls.” Matthew shot him a defensive glance. “I’ll admit, I find her entertaining. But that doesn’t mean I want to marry her.” “The Bowman sisters are rather dangerous that way. When one of them first attracts your interest, all you know is she’s the most provoking creature you’ve ever encountered. But then you discover that as maddening as she is, you can scarcely wait until the next time you see her. Like the progression of an incurable disease, it spreads from one organ to the next. The craving begins. All other women begin to seem colorless and dull in comparison. You want her until you think you’ll go mad from it. You can’t stop thinking—” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Matthew interrupted, turning pale. He was not about to succumb to an incurable disease. A man had choices in life. And no matter what Westcliff believed, this was nothing more than a physical urge. An unholy powerful, gut-wrenching, insanity-producing physical urge…but it could be conquered by sheer force of will. “If you say so,” Westcliff said, sounding unconvinced.”

Daisy And MatthewLillian And MarcusLawn Bowls
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“Everything happened too fast for Daisy to comprehend. She gripped the ribbons as Hubert jerked forward with a panicked whinny, the cart rattling and bouncing as if it were a child’s toy. Daisy tried in vain to keep her seat, but as the cart hit a deep rut she was thrown clear of the vehicle. Hubert continued racing pell-mell down the lane while Daisy landed on the hard-packed earth with stunning force. The breath was knocked from her, and she choked and wheezed. She had the impression of a massive creature, a monster rushing toward her, but the sound of a gunshot rent the air and caused her ears to ring. A bone-chilling animal squeal… then nothing. Daisy tried to sit up, then flopped weakly on her stomach as her lungs spasmed. Her chest felt as if it had been caught in a vise. There was a good chance she was going to cast up her crumpets, but the thought of how much that would hurt was enough to keep her gorge down. In a moment the thundering of hooves— several sets— vibrated the ground beneath Daisy’s cheek. Finally able to draw a shallow breath, she pushed up on her elbows and lifted her chin. Three riders— no, four— were galloping toward her, hooves thrasing up clouds of dust in the lane. One of the men swung off his horse before it had even stopped and rushed to her in a few ground-eating strides. Daisy blinked in surprise as he dropped to his knees and gathered her up in the same motion. Her head fell back on his arm, and she found herself staring hazily up into Matthew Swift’s dark face. “Daisy.” It was a tone she had never heard from him before, rough and urgent. Cradling her in one arm, he ran his free hand over her body in a rapid search for injuries. “Are you hurt?” Daisy tried to explain that she’d just gotten the wind knocked out of her, and he seemed to understand her incoherent sounds. “All right,” he said. “Don’t try to talk. Breathe slowly.” Feeling her stir against him, he resettled her in his arms. “Rest against me.” His hand passed over her hair, smoothing it back from her face. Tiny shivers of reaction ran through her limbs, and he gathered her closer. “Slowly, sweetheart. Easy. You’re safe now.” Daisy closed her eyes to hide her astonishment. Matthew Swift was murmuring endearments and holding her in hard, strong arms, and her bones seemed to have melted like boiling sugar. Years of uncivilized rough-and-tumble with her siblings had taught Daisy to recover quickly from a fall. In any other circumstances she would have sprung up and dusted herself off by now. But every pleasure-saturated cell in her body sought to preserve the moment for as long as possible.”

Daisy And MatthewProlong The Moment
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“There was little conversation between them, just an oddly companionable silence. “What time is it?” Daisy would ask every now and then, and he would produce a pocket watch. Mildly intrigued by the jangle of objects in his coat pocket, Daisy demanded to see what was inside it. “You’ll be disappointed,” Swift said as he unearthed the collection of items. He dumped the lot into her lap while Daisy sorted through it all. “You’re worse than a ferret,” she said with a grin. There was the folding knife and the fishing line, a few loose coins, a pen nib, the pair of spectacles, a little tin of soap— Bowman’s, of course— and a slip of folded waxed paper containing willowbark powder. Holding the paper between thumb and forefinger, Daisy asked, “Do you have headaches, Mr. Swift?” “No. But your father does whenever he gets bad news. And I’m usually the one who delivers it.” Daisy laughed and picked up a tiny silver match case from the pile in her lap. “Why matches? I thought you didn’t smoke.” “One never knows when a fire will be needed.” Daisy held up a paper of straight pins and raised her brows questioningly. “I use them to attach documents,” he explained. “But they’ve been useful on other occasions.” She let a teasing note enter her voice. “Is there any emergency for which you are not prepared, Mr. Swift?” “Miss Bowman, if I had enough pockets I could save the world.”

Save The WorldDaisy And MatthewWorse Than A Ferret
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“Matthew’s smile vanished as his gaze slid over her and lingered on the torn seam at her shoulder. “What happened to your dress?” “It was nothing. I had a sort of… well, a scuffle, you might call it, with Lord Llandrindon.” It was the most innocent way Daisy could think of to describe the encounter, which of course had been harmless. She was certain no lurid connotations could be attached to “scuffle.” However, it appeared that Swift’s definition of the word was far more expansive than hers. Suddenly his expression turned dark and frightening, and his blue eyes blazed. “I’m going to kill him,” he said in a guttural voice. “He dared to— where is he?” “No, no,” Daisy said hastily, “you misunderstood— it wasn’t like that—” Dropping the sketchbook, she threw her arms around him, using all her weight to restrain him as he headed toward the garden. She might as well have tried to hold back a charging bull. With the first few steps she was carried bodily with him. “Wait! What gives you the right to do anything where I’m concerned?” Breathing heavily, Matthew stopped and glared down into her flushed face. “Did he touch you? Did he force you to—” “You’re nothing but a dog in the manger,” Daisy cried hotly. “You don’t want me— why should you care if someone else does? Leave me alone and go back to your plans for building your big sodding factory and making mountains of money! I hope you become the richest man in the world. I hope you get everything you want, and then someday you’ll look around and wonder why no one loves you and why you’re so unh—” Her words were crushed into silence as he kissed her, his mouth hard and punishing. A wild thrill shot through her, and she turned her face away with a gasp. “— happy,” she managed to finish, just before he clasped her head in his hands and kissed her again.”

Daisy And Matthew
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“Breaking the contact between their lips, she managed an anguished whisper. “Matthew… take me somewhere.” “No.” “Yes. I need… I need to be alone with you.” Panting raggedly, Matthew folded his arms around her, bringing her against his hard chest. She felt the desperate crush of his lips against her scalp. “I can’t trust myself that far,” he finally said. “Just to talk. Please. We can’t stay out in the open like this. And if you leave me now I’ll die.” Even aroused and in turmoil, Matthew couldn’t prevent a smothered laugh at the dramatic statement. “You won’t die.” “Just to talk,” Daisy repeated, clinging to him. “I won’t… I won’t tempt you.” “Sweetheart.” He let out a serrated breath. “You tempt me just by being in the same room with me.” Her throat turned hot, as if she had just swallowed sunlight. Sensing that any more coaxing would push him in the opposite direction, Daisy stayed silent. She pressed against him, letting the silent communication of their bodies melt his resolve. With a quiet groan, Matthew took her hand and tugged her toward the bachelor’s house. “God help us both if anyone sees.”

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Book:Scandal in Spring
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“May I sit down, please?” she asked mildly. “I’m tired of standing.” “There’s no place to sit.” “Yes there is.” Breaking away from him, Daisy went to the four-poster bed and tried to climb onto it. Unfortunately the bed was an antique Sheraton, built high to avoid winter drafts and allow for a trundle below. The top of the mattress was level with her breasts. Hoisting herself upward, she tried to lever her hips onto the mattress. Gravity defeated her. “Usually,” Daisy said, struggling and squirming with her feet dangling, “there’s a stair-step provided—” She grabbed handfuls of the counterpane. “— for beds this tall.” Straining to hook a knee over the edge of the mattress, she continued, “Good God… if someone fell out of this bed at night… it would be fatal.” She felt Matthew’s hands clamp around her waist. “The bed’s not that tall,” he said. Picking her up as if she were a child, he deposited her on the mattress. “It’s just that you’re short.” “I’m not short. I’m… vertically disadvantaged.” “Fine. Sit up.” His weight depressed the mattress behind her and his hands returned to the back of her dress.”

Daisy And MatthewVertically Disadvantaged
Book:Scandal in Spring
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