Daisy and the Duke Read Free Page A

surprised her at all to feel the earth tremble beneath them. Her world was shifting on its axis, revealing facets of her personality that shocked and excited her. She was Daisy Wexler. A librarian from Virginia. She did not play tonsil hockey in broad daylight with smug, audacious strangers.
    But perhaps she didn’t know herself at all. “Fantasy,” she breathed. “Kiss me before I change my mind.”
    His mouth was warm and firm, the press of his lips an immaculate blend of hunger and tenderness. “Daisy,” he muttered. “Daisy.”
    The way he groaned the syllables made her melt. Her arms encircled his neck, her hands unashamedly measuring the width of his shoulders, the tensile strength of sleek muscles beneath warm skin. He was everything she was not. Hard and virile. Supremely confident in his sexuality.
    “I like the way you smell,” she whispered. “It’s very English.”
    He chuckled, the sound reverberating against her breast. “You smell like sin, Ms. Daisy Wexler. I think you’re a seductress disguised as an innocent American tourist. You’ve come across the pond to lure unsuspecting Englishmen to their doom.”
    “Doom?” She gasped as his hand closed over her breast. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
    “But accurate.” He buried his face in her neck as he stroked her through thin layers of cloth, his big body trembling violently. “What are you doing to me?”
    She felt the press of his erection against her thigh. It had never been her intent to offer more than a kiss. But their embrace had segued from delightful to desperate need at warp speed.
    Between her legs, the practical cotton undies she’d purchased six to a pack were damp. She
wanted
him. In ways she had never wanted anyone before. The ferocity of the craving stunned and terrified her. Was this the kind of sexual madness that made fools of women? That left them brokenhearted in its wake?
    To have this man in her arms, wild with passion—for
her—
was the ultimate temptation. This beautiful, well-spoken, engaging man needed her as much as she needed him. But one last functioning brain cell told her to get up, to walk away. To remember why she was here.
    “Stop,” she said. “Let me up. I came here to see the duke.”

Chapter Eight
    Bugger the duke
. Ian froze, wondering if he had said that last bit out loud. Lifting his body away from Daisy’s slowly, he tried to regulate his breathing and regain the control that was expected of him.
    When he could manage it, he got to his feet. There was nothing he could do about the state of his sex. It was too big to hide, and too painfully swollen to simply pretend nothing had happened. He could barely breathe.
    Daisy seemed shocked by what she saw. Which made him rather angry, truth be told. Did she seriously not realize how close they had come to carnal relations? A few seconds more, and she would have found her skirt pushed up to her waist and her knickers dragged down to her—
    Damnation
. He turned his back and bent forward, putting his hands on his knees. After taking several labored gulps of air, he finally managed to regain a modicum of equilibrium.
    But still he couldn’t face her. He inhaled sharply and spoke with his back still to her. “The duke should be home any moment,” he said curtly. “I’ll go now and determine whether or not he can meet with you this afternoon.”
    From behind his shoulder, Daisy spoke, her voice subdued. “That’s very kind of you. I’m sorry that I…”
    He whirled, cursing his own weakness. He should have sent her on her way immediately. “That you what?”
    She stood up as well, and with her arms wrapped around her waist, she was the picture of discomfort. “That I let you think I was willing to…um…fool around.”
    “Is that what you Americans call it?” He scowled. “How many euphemisms can you invent for having sex?”
    Daisy frowned. “I was trying to be polite.”
    “I don’t feel particularly polite at the