If You Give A Girl A Viscount

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Surrounded by a dozen gentlemen as wealthy or more than he and whose interests somewhat overlapped (Charlie had never claimed to be a bird-watcher), he decided he’d never felt so miserable and alone in his life. The whisky and brandy had made the travelers talkative, but eventually, even they grew tired. So it was with much relief that he stood when the men eventually called it a night a little after midnight.

“Sleep well, gentlemen,” he told them as they filed past him at the door to the library.

“I thought I saw a buxom maid or two about the premises,” said Mr. Woo in a leading fashion.

A few of the others made suggestive remarks about the maids, as well.

“Yes, well, even buxom maids need their sleep, don’t they?” Charlie said.

Mr. Woo lowered his brow. “The Highland experience doesn’t include Highland lasses?”

“No. It doesn’t.” Charlie couldn’t care less if the man were offended. He saw how hard the villagers had worked today. He’d seen the pride on their faces when he’d complimented their cleaning and cooking.

Obviously, Mr. Woo assumed Charlie was to provide opportunities for bedroom activities as part of their arrangement. Charlie knew the upper classes were used to getting what they wanted. But he refused to acknowledge the men’s more unseemly expectations.

Their bedchambers were situated on one long, candlelit corridor that turned at a right angle in the middle. As the first two visitors went to their rooms, escorted by footmen, Charlie couldn’t help wondering where Daisy was situated.

He knew she was on the floor above theirs. Was her room directly above his own? He’d like to imagine it was. He was sure she was fast asleep.

But there she was, striding confidently toward him. He should have known she’d yet be awake for one reason or another. She carried a sputtering candle in her hand and was still dressed for dinner. But now she wore a gorgeous pink blossom over one ear.

She looked breathtakingly lovely.

“Miss Montgomery!” Mr. King hailed her heartily. “You’ve not retired for the evening?”

“Of course not, Mr. King.” She smiled at him, completely alert, all signs of imbibing too much wine erased. “A hostess doesn’t sleep until her guests are down for the night. I’ve spent the last several hours outdoors, walking and reading in the gardens. Lasting daylight is one benefit of living in the Highlands in the summer. I feel quite refreshed.”

She looked round the group. “Does anyone require a small bite to eat from the kitchens?”

A chorus of nos rang out—they’d had plenty for dinner, they all claimed in a most hospitable manner. With the presence of Daisy, the men seemed to have perked up and become mannerly again.

Mr. King held out his arm. “Please join us on a midnight stroll down the corridor.”

She laughed. “I’ll be glad to.” Catching Charlie’s eye, she bestowed a small, close-lipped smile upon him.

He recognized that smile. It was her shy one. He’d have liked her on his arm, but he wouldn’t make a fuss this time. Mr. King was on his best behavior. He was the last of the guests to reach his bedchamber door. Once there, he bent low over Daisy’s hand and kissed it.

“Thank you,” he said, “for an extraordinary beginning to our Highland adventure. It will be a most interesting ten days.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, blushing.

Charlie couldn’t help feeling jealous.

Mr. King also exchanged a cordial good-night with him, but it was obvious their American guest much preferred the company of his hostess.

Alone at last in the corridor, Daisy hooked her arm through Charlie’s.

He relished the contact.

“Only nine days to go,” she whispered.

“Nine long days,” he whispered back.

She stifled a laugh. “We’ll make it.”

It was a brief moment of camaraderie, and he had a sudden, mad desire to make love to her right there, against the cold, stone walls of the corridor.

She drew in a small breath and turned to look at an elaborate tapestry.

Hah.

So she must have sensed the tension, too. Of course, it was still there. Their afternoon on the Stone Steps had done nothing but whet his appetite for her.

He didn’t know how he’d ever thought her plain.

“Good night, Charlie,” she said, suddenly stopping. “It’s past midnight, and it’s still light. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said.

“Wait—”

But she strode quickly away, around the corner, and then he heard the pat of her slippers on the stairs to her bedchamber.

On the third step, he found the flower that had been in her hair.