Page 61 of Sinful Scottish Laird
Robert nodded but offered no apology.
As soon as the meal was done, Uncle Alfonso politely declined the port Robert suggested with the excuse that he had some work to do. Robert escorted Daisy into the great room and seated her on the settee near the hearth with her needlework. Needlework that had gone untouched for weeks now. Robert produced a book and sat down across from her, his legs crossed, and proceeded to read.
Daisy made several stitches, but she had to remove them. She was exasperated, her work careless as a result. It wasn’t what Robert had said to Belinda—Lord knew they’d all lost patience with her at one time or another—it was his complete disregard for her feelings.
She lowered her embroidery and stared at him.
Robert glanced up from his reading. “Is everything all right?”
“Belinda has no one else in the world but us.”
“Pardon?” He lowered his book.
“Belinda has no one else,” Daisy said again. “I know she can be quite difficult, but she is a member of this family, and we accept her as she is.”
Robert looked confused. “Have I given you reason to think I want differently?”
“You treated her ill this evening, Robert.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “I agree I was a bit harsh. My apologies.” He put the book aside and came to the settee to sit beside her. “Mysincerestapologies,” he said, taking her hand. “I vow to do my best not to criticize Cousin Belinda.”
Was he sincere? Or was he saying what she wanted to hear? “Perhaps you might apologize to her.”
“The first opportunity, you have my word,” he said. He frowned lightly. “You are cross with me.” He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. “Forgive me, darling. I would never consciously wound you or your family—you know that I wouldn’t.”
She believed that was true. Or rather, she wanted to believe it was true. He was new to them, new to her life now. Naturally it required accommodations from both of them. And patience—she had to be patient, had to see that this new relationship between her and Robert worked, for the sake of them all.
Daisy moved her hand to his thigh, and he immediately deepened his kiss, his tongue slipping in between her lips. She moved her hand higher up his leg—
Robert suddenly lifted his head and snatched her hand from his leg. “Daisy! Have a care!” he snapped.
“It’s all right,” she tried to assure him. “I was married for many years—”
“What has that to do with it?” He stood, his cheeks blooming. “That sort of behavior is very unbecoming, madam. You are too immodest!”
She was tooimmodest? He’d spoken of marriage this afternoon, but he feared her touch?
“Look now, I’ve displeased you,” he said irritably and sighed. “I was surprised. Forgive me for speaking so harshly.” He sat down again, took her hand in his. “I love you, Daisy. But I... I forget how much time has passed. You must allow me to grow accustomed to you as you are now.”
“As I am now,” she repeated. “I am the same as I’ve ever been. Only a bit older and a bit more experienced.” She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. Once again Robert broke away. With a nervous laugh he stood. He was acting like a boy, like a virgin...
“Robert? Are you...have you never...?”
He seemed confused at first, but then his face darkened. “I beg your pardon!” he said low. “That is hardly something after which a proper lady shouldeverinquire.”
Daisy sighed with impatience and sagged against the back of the settee.
“I am quite shocked by your behavior this evening, Daisy. I never took you for a wanton.”
“Shocked,” she repeated. There was a time she might have been mortally wounded by such a claim, but she was too old, too widowed, too uncaring to deny it. She shrugged and picked up her embroidery. “I am not a wanton, Robert. I am a widow.”
He watched her resume her needlework, waiting for her to say more, then rubbing his chin uncertainly when she did not. He suddenly went down on his knee before her, pushed the embroidery aside and grabbed both her hands. “Listen to me, darling. You must have a care for appearances. But...but when we are wed, I promise you will find every imaginable delight in my bed.”
Ah, but it would beherbed, wouldn’t it? Hadn’t he already mentioned Chatwick Hall? Moreover, she rather thought she could imagine the delights in bed very clearly, and they did not excite her. Daisy smiled dully. “Do you promise?” she asked sweetly. Like a proper chaste virgin, precisely as he wanted. Like a woman who was dead inside but playing her part.
He stroked her face, then kissed her tenderly. “I do.” He stood up and looked around the room, as if he was uncertain what to do next. He picked up his book. “I should like to retire now. Perhaps you should, as well.”
To end this perfectly dreadful evening, he would also tell her when she ought to go to bed, as if she were a child. “Of course,” she said, carelessly tossing aside her embroidery. “Good night, Rob.” She walked from the room, acutely aware that there was no fire between them, no flames to engulf them. And for some peculiar reason, she was glad for it.
