Forbidden (51 page)

Morning. Finally. The summer sun shone brilliantly through the lace curtains, the chiming clock on the mantel trailed off on its last melodic vibration of the hour, her bedroom gleamed with lemon light. Throwing off the covers, she scrambled out of bed, knowing she had to get away, outside, anywhere… to distract her morbid thoughts. A ride on the seashore had the advantage of privacy and she had to be
doing
something, something physical, something requiring concentration, or at least an activity away from the frivolous perfumed Newport society. Did she dare think of Etienne? Or rather, was it possible to eliminate his powerful image from her mind? How humiliating her response last evening to Etienne's seduction, how much more humiliating would Nadine's discovery have been, she hated him and wanted him, she hated herself for succumbing so easily. But his kiss had been… wonderful and disastrous.

Her confusion was total.

In less than ten minutes, dressed simply in moccasins and leather leggings, a plain white shirt opened at her neck, her hair tied back with a leather thong, Daisy stood with her hand on the doorknob, hesitating.

Her stomach was growling.

She hadn't eaten last night at Nadine's, nor had she more than minimally at the Rutherfords' earlier, too agitated after having seen Etienne at the polo club that afternoon to have much appetite. If she called for breakfast in her room, its appearance would take longer than she cared to wait. Not certain she was in a suitably sociable mood considering her lack of sleep, she debated having breakfast downstairs. But another glance at the clock assured her—at this hour, she could almost be guaranteed solitude in the dining room.

The hallway was empty when she stepped out of her room, the staircase, as well, while the two-story entrance hall, sunny under its domed skylight, was occupied by a single footman, half asleep in a chair. Seven-fifteen on a Newport morning definitely offered privacy. Humming a music hall tune all the rage that summer, she walked across the polished parquet and entered the large silent dining room.

Even under heavy silver covers, the aroma of breakfast food drifted into her nostrils with gratifying seduction. Her stomach gurgled in anticipation as she walked over to the mahogany sideboard gleaming with Georgian silver. She was helping herself to a second slice of honey-drenched ham, her plate piled high with an unladylike amount of food, when the Duc walked in.

"You don't belong here," she exclaimed, stupefied, the ham dripping honey in a widening puddle on the Irish-linen buffet cloth. How could Etienne be in
her
breakfast room, a half a mile from Nadine's at seven-fifteen in the morning? In a voice impolite and aghast, she breathed, "What are you doing here?"

"Having breakfast. The laundress is going to wish you didn't like ham." His head inclined slightly in the direction of the dripping ham on her fork and he smiled.

Hastily dropping the ham on her plate she blurted, "You can't."

"Can't?" His dark brows rose and fell in a swift quirked inquiry of politeness only. He had every intention of staying.

"Have breakfast here."

"Actually I'm only having coffee because I'm breakfasting with Hector. Do you think the Rutherfords will miss a cup of coffee?"

They were of course talking about two different things.

"Why aren't you at Nadine's?" She might as well ask since it was her overriding thought along with her staggering reaction to his appearance. He looked so achingly familiar in his short-sleeved white polo jersey and tan twill jodhpurs; how many times had she seen his sleek brown boots lying on the floor in the bedroom of his apartment on the Seine? Was it only a few weeks ago when she loved him with all her heart, without reservation or thorny doubts? Without all the obstacles raised now like insurmountable barriers?

"Your father invited me to stay here."

"I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself, but he did." The Duc preferred not discussing Nadine if possible, the topic too fraught with minefields of dissension. "Are you going riding?"

"Yes… no… it's none of your business. Why aren't you at Nadine's?" He hadn't answered her question.

"She was being… insistent and I thought it best to leave." His answer was as bland as possible.

"Insistent?"

"Yes, insistent. Would you like me to spell it out?"

"I thought you liked insistent women."

He didn't want to argue about the women in his past. It was such a useless argument… and at base, she probably was right. In the past, he'd preferred insistent women, his tastes catholic and libertine. "If I did, I don't anymore. All right?" he quietly said.

"So you came here?"

"I was going to sleep at the polo club."

"But?"

"But your father invited me to stay in the annex, which beat the stables at the club."

"I don't believe you," Daisy repeated, still moderately dumbfounded.

"Jesus," Etienne said, mildly exasperated after a very short night's sleep. "Why would I lie?"

"I don't know. Why do you lie?"

"I've never lied to you." His voice was very soft.

His reply could be interpreted as ambiguous if she wished to analyze every nuance, but she found herself more and more conscious of the fact he was standing close to her than the precise content of his remarks. "I suppose I should be grateful then," Daisy said in automatic response opposed to the physical sensations his nearness aggravated.

"I'll take anything I can get."

He meant it sincerely, but last night was still too fresh in her mind, with Nadine and the ladies in the hallway drooling over him, to have his meaning transferred properly to Daisy's psyche. "Don't you always. Why didn't you consider a bed at Clara's or Bea's or Lily's if Nadine wasn't to your liking. I'm sure they would have been ecstatic to have you as a
guest
."

"I haven't slept with a woman since you left me." He hadn't intended to say that, a private person by nature, unsure too of Daisy's involvement with other men or her uninvolvement with him. But he was weary suddenly of her accusations when he'd overturned his entire life for her.

"There you are. Good morning," Blaze said, coming toward them with a smile, Hazard at her side. "We didn't know if you'd left yet for Jolie's."

No other women
? Daisy thought.

The shock of Hazard and Blaze's appearance showed for a moment in the Duc's face before he recovered. "I just stopped by for coffee. I'll be off soon."

"Did you sleep well?" Hazard politely inquired, putting out his hand in greeting as he came up to Etienne.

"Well, but not long enough," Etienne replied with a smile, taking Hazard's hand in a strong grip.

No other women
? Could she believe it?

"You look hungry," Blaze said to Daisy, her gaze on the plate in her hands.

"Yes." And a hunger of another sort glided through her mind.

"Sit down," Blaze suggested. "I'll bring you some coffee. Sugar this morning?" she inquired when Daisy didn't seem to respond.

"Yes, sugar," Daisy absently replied before moving toward the table, not entirely certain her senses would remain obedient to the dictates of her mind.

The smaller of two tables in the fifty-foot-long dining room had been set for breakfast, a pristine white tablecloth with heavy lace borders stark contrast to the scarlet brocade Jacobean chairs placed at each of the fourteen place settings. Three large bouquets of summer flowers were centered on the table like a fountain of color, their golden tones bright as the sun pouring through the sheer lace panels on the windows.

Hazard and Daisy ate while Blaze drank cafe au lait and Etienne sipped on the heavily sweetened coffee he preferred. Hazard was dressed casually like the Duc, intending to go over to the polo club later and help the grooms take his ponies out for their morning warm-up. "Will you be coming over to the club later?" Hazard inquired, cutting his ham, the ornate gold flatware dwarfed by his large hands.

"Not if I can help it," Etienne replied with a grin. "I'm still recuperating. Although I should put Bradley's electrical machine on these fingers for a few hours."

"That works?" Hazard looked skeptical, his fork poised before his mouth.

"It does. Last year Collin recommended it at Hurlingham after I'd sprained my wrist rather badly. Without the treatment I wouldn't have been able to play the next day."

"What do you think, Daisy?" Blaze asked. "Maybe we should bring a machine back to Montana."

"Why not," she tersely replied, awkward and uncomfortable sitting at the breakfast table with her parents and Etienne, her precarious poise threatening to crumble. Not only frustrated her father had interfered, inviting Etienne over as if she were a child who didn't know her own mind, she was haunted by the markedly significant words—no other women—repeating like hammer blows in her brain.

If it were true—and she wasn't naively accepting that possibility, the enormity of Etienne's commitment was staggering. Those three words obliterated the potential fawning women, they rectified Isabelle's list as irrelevant, they meant change was not only possible but a fact. She trembled.

"Are you chilled?" Blaze asked, her gaze intent.

"No… maybe just a touch," she amended, aware Etienne's eyes were on her.

"Take a jacket with you when you go then." Blaze noted Daisy was dressed in her habitual attire for riding. "Although it should warm up soon."

"I certainly hope so," the Duc said, his voice infused with a sudden quiet.

And Daisy's dark eyes lifted to his for a dramatic moment while a sudden hush settled over the table.

Their attraction was palpable. Blaze flushed at the sudden public display. Hazard stopped chewing for a moment, his gaze thoughtful.

The Duc composed himself first. Glancing at his watch, he said, "I should go. Hector hasn't any patience." He smiled. "Thank you for the hospitality." Pushing his chair back, he rose.

"I'll see you at the club," Hazard said.

"Give our best to your daughter's family," Blaze politely added.

"Kiss Hector for me," Daisy said. "Tell him I've missed him." She tried to speak in a calm voice, the sight of Etienne over breakfast reminiscent of a passion and contentment she'd been attempting to obliterate from her memory for weeks. But the tidal wave of emotion was too overwhelming, her feelings powerfully affected, unmindful any longer of pragmatic restraint.

"Hector named one of his new kittens for you, he told me. So you have a namesake now. A calico, I think." Etienne had to speak of trivialities or he'd jump over the table, lift her out of her chair and kiss her, parents or not. "Au revoir," he quickly said and walked away.

"The Duc seems very nice," Blaze said. "I hope you didn't damage his fingers too badly, dear," she added to Hazard in mild reproach. "Sometimes your temper is—"

"I'm sorry. I told him that. He knows." Hazard grinned. "He was holding his own, so you needn't worry. I've the bruises to prove it."

"I can see why you… like him, Daisy," Blaze declared. "He's very charming."

"I don't know if I like him." She hadn't been able to eat a tenth of what she'd taken, her stomach filled with butterflies, reminded of so many past mornings when they'd shared breakfast.

"He asked my permission to court you," Hazard said, his voice carefully modulated, his gaze fixed on his daughter who was destroying a kipper with the tines of her fork… not certain whether he was making a mistake telling her.

She dropped her fork as if suddenly burned. "Permission!" Her eyes so similar to his bore into him. "Am I an ingenue? He asked your
permission
? He shouldn't have. He doesn't have any right.
You
don't have the right to grant him that permission. I'm thirty years old, Father. I'll make up my own mind about what I want to do. I'll make my own decisions on courtship, which is a damned old-fashioned term anyway. How
could
you, Father,
discuss
me like a commodity for sale!"

"The Duc was simply being polite. His request isn't any more than a formality. You can do as you please, you know that," her father quietly said. "We just don't want you to be unhappy."

"He's going to change that?"

"It's up to you."

"And everyone else who feels they can interfere. Don't, Father, I mean it. Don't interfere. Tell him, Blaze. He doesn't seem to understand." She stood abruptly, the high-backed chair tumbling over at her sudden movement. "Don't you think I'd like everything to work out perfectly? So I could be ecstatically happy everyday? Well, it won't. Because he has his life and I have mine and both lives are too damn busy to cavalierly toss aside, like some frivolous plaything turned dull. So I would appreciate it if everyone would leave me the hell alone!"

After she'd stalked from the room, Blaze turned to her husband and softly said, "That judgment call went awry, darling."

Leaning his head against the upholstered brocade back of his chair, Hazard exhaled softly. "I debated about being honest or opting for the diplomacy of omission. Hell and damnation," he went on, a grin forming on his lips, "she must have her mother's temper."