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At that moment, Daisy couldn’t care less about her mission. She was far more entranced with the way the stranger’s eyes had shone hot with desire before he deliberately reined it in and pretended to ignore the sizzle in the air. Daisy was not particularly experienced, but she recognized hunger when she saw it. This tough, rugged man with muddy boots and elegant hands wanted her.

The knowledge excited her. Daisy was not the kind of woman who drove men to do wild things. She was a good organizer, a decent cook and a damned fine researcher. But she was neither seductive nor sexy. That wasn’t self-pity speaking. She merely knew her own limitations.

But this man saw her differently… Suddenly she wished she had worn a more alluring outfit than a comfy cotton dress that traveled well.

Nibbling her bottom lip for half a second, she blurted out a most un-Daisy-like invitation. “Would you have dinner with me tonight? After I meet with the duke?” This stranger really would think she was a pushy, forward American if she kept this up. “My treat,” she said hastily, once again assessing the worn state of the man’s attire.

His throat and face flushed. A noticeable bulge tented the front of his pants. Dear Lord. Daisy blushed as well, feeling hot and shaky and wonderfully excited. Suddenly, she had a vision of the two of them hidden away in a hay-filled barn, Daisy riding astride this man’s impressive, impossible-to-miss—

“I’ll have to take a rain check,” he said gruffly. “Perhaps another time.”

The gentle rebuff curdled her stomach. She rarely put herself out there, and this was why. He had shot her down, albeit gently, but nevertheless a slap in the face. Gathering her tattered composure, she ignored the way her eyes stung and her throat closed up. “Very well. I only wanted to show my gratitude for your assistance.”

She heard her prissy words and realized that she had unwittingly picked up some of his toney accent. Glancing at her watch to disguise the fact that she was near tears, she took a deep breath. “If it’s not too much of a bother, would you please go in and ask if he will see me?”

The man with the dark amber eyes and the face of a Roman conqueror did not smile as he took a step closer, and with one finger, reached out to wipe a damp stain from the corner of her lashes. “You’re a lovely woman, Ms. Daisy Wexler. I’ll do what I can.” His hand lingered, cupping her cheek. “Where are you staying while you’re here?”

She nodded over her shoulder to the view of a placid Lake Windemere glistening in the distance. The water was a deep, mysterious cerulean beneath the noonday sun. Barely a whitecap or a ripple disturbed the broad expanse. “Ambleside. The youth hostel across the way.”

He nodded, his expression almost grim. “Come back in an hour. If the duke is available, I’ll ask him to speak with you.”

Chapter Five

Disconsolate and bereft, Daisy watched the man stride toward the enormous, unwieldy castle that was more regal than prepossessing. He disappeared around the side where the stables adjoined the house.

She had no idea if he would really plead her case, and she wanted badly to simply walk up the tree-lined path and knock on the door. But something held her in check, perhaps his unflattering assessment of her fellow Americans as pushy.

If this man and the duke expected docility and compliance, she would try to be patient. After all, her mission was important, not only for the ones who had sent her, but for Daisy personally.

The Duke’s ancestral home sat on a rocky hill overlooking the lake. Beyond and to the left, a second outcropping rose against the sky, beckoning the adventurous to follow. She had time to kill and a fascination for exploration, so Daisy set off toward it. The weather was perfect for touring, and briefly she regretted that she wasn’t in England for a simple holiday.

But too much was at stake to goof off now. If her work went well, she would be able to enjoy a few days of legitimate vacation—and settle a few questions of her own—before she returned to the States.

The climb was steeper than it appeared, and Daisy was breathing hard when she reached the crest, her calf muscles protesting the unaccustomed trek. But the view from the top was stunning. Pastoral Britain in all its glory lay spread out at her feet. Gamboling sheep, meandering stone fences, fluffy clouds dotting an azure sky. And green as far as the eye could see…verdant, emerald meadows marked off in neat patchwork squares.

Savoring the warmth of the sun, she kicked off her shoes, feeling like a schoolchild out for the summer. In her tote, she found a thin, old shawl that she kept with her for just such an occasion. Spreading it over the lush grass, she sat down with her arms encircling her knees.

If she half closed her eyes and ignored the few marks of civilization, she could almost imagine that she lived in a different age, a day when warriors strode across the land, stealing women and taking them away to pagan lands.

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