Hill Manse ... Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Having attached a long black chiffon sarong over her simple but chic black gown and detached the spaghetti straps, Daisy swirled in front of the full-length mirror, pleased with the way she had again adapted her one extravagance to fit another formal evening.

Wish I were more excited about going out tonight. Richard can be insensitive sometimes, but mostly he’s a peach of a guy and a terrific dancer. He’s also acting like he wants to be more than just friends. I need to be straight with him ... can’t string him along just so I can have a lunch or night out once in a while. I’d hate it if someone did that to me.

Cara insisted that Daisy must wear her long evening coat. “A shawl just isn’t enough. You can be sure it’ll start raining as soon as you step outside. Richard will have his umbrella but you must have a warm coat … I will not take no for an answer!”

On the Gregor’s front door steps at exactly seven-thirty, Richard twisted the bell handle and waited to be admitted. He nervously shifted the small bouquet of flowers from one hand to the other. I feel like a teen on his first date. What the hell’s the matter with me? We’re going dancing … no reason to be so damn jumpy.

Unhurriedly, the door opened … Morris greeted Richard and ushered him into the foyer. He looked up as a smiling Daisy descended the long curving stairway without looking down or snagging her short but narrow heels on the hem of her skirt.

“Congratulations, Daisy. The Queen couldn’t have descended the staircase any more regally.”

“Thank you ... thank you, sir ... for the lilacs, as well. They are lovely and smell

heavenly. Morris, will you have them put in water, please?”

“Immediately, Miss Daisy.”

“You look smashing. A beautiful blond in black chiffon … Wow!” Richard held up Cara’s seal coat and Daisy slipped her arms into its dark sleekness.

“Cinderella is now ready to go to the ball, sir”

The Continental Ballroom was just that … an elegant ballroom with dozens of chandeliers glittering from a plaster domed ceiling sculpted in drapery swags. The walls were made up of tall multi-pained windows and French doors, which led to a gallery that was opened to the night, to the stars and to the drizzle of rain that started just as Richard and Daisy, stepped from the car. The tables were covered in brilliant white lace-trimmed cloths and on each was a low centerpiece of fresh flowers. A maître d' escorted them to a table that sat four and was reasonably close to the dance floor. Couples and parties of people streamed in quickly taking up most of the tables anywhere near the orchestra and dancing area. The women were all dressed to the nines and the men were either in dark suits or evening jackets. When the orchestra started the evening with Begin the Beguine, Daisy could envision Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers whirling out from behind the stage curtains to join the throng of dancers on the marble tiles, his top hat and her magnificent gown a breathtaking sight swaying beneath the glowing chandeliers. Then the vision faded away as a haughty waiter approached their table.

Champagne was ordered and a chilled vintage in a bucket of ice was rolled on a tray table and left standing next to Richard’s chair after the waiter had poured the sparkling potion into two crystal flutes.

As they toasted “cheers” and “good health” to one another, a rather glamorous woman with dark red hair piled up in a dramatic do, stopped at their table. She wore a form fitting lime green gown and towed a nice-looking but noticeably reluctant young man behind her.

“Richard … fancy running into you … here.” The woman pursed her ruby red lips, arched her brows and turned to her escort. “Aubrey … Richard Hamblin. Richard, this is my friend, Aubrey Sinclair.”

Richard rose clumsily, his faced flushed with either embarrassment or anger … Daisy couldn’t tell which.

“Yes … well, hello, how do you do.” After shaking Mr. Sinclair’s hand he stuttered, “Uh, Fiona … may I introduce my friend, Daisy Landis. Daisy this is Fiona Dunne and … her friend, Mr. Sinclair.”

“Hello” …

“How do you do” …

“Hello … nice to meet you.”

Silence!

The couple continued to stand there, Fiona looked at Richard then at Daisy, then at Richard again. Richard looked at Fiona, then at the ceiling, then at Daisy. Aubrey Sinclair ignored the three of them and watched the dancers with such intensity he might well have been imagining Fred and Ginger were leaping and swirling around the floor just as Daisy had a few moments before.

Daisy was confused and a bit embarrassed, but finally her manners kicked in. “Would you like to join us?”

Fiona huffed a satisfied sigh, smiled brilliantly and said, “Yes”, and sat next to Richard. Mr. Sinclair sat between Fiona and Daisy. Richard resumed his seat, reached over and pinched the inside of Daisy’s elbow.

“Ouch!” She yelped.

As one might imagine, the mood of the evening had taken on an altered tone.

Richard stood, held out his hand to Daisy and said, “Let’s dance.”

As he pulled her, none too gently, onto the floor, She looked him straight in the eye, as they were the same height, and said, “You had no right to pinch me; I’ll carry the bruise to my grave, you brute. And, don’t you dare blame me for showing some good manners since you are bereft of any at the moment! And, as you English are wont to say, who’s Fiona Dunne when she’s at home?”

“Shhhh, Daisy, I’m sorry … I’m sorry.” Richard drew her against his chest bringing his lips close to her ear. “Fi surprised me, that’s all, coming up to our table like that. She should have refused your invitation ... knew you were just being polite. She should cover herself up. She should have stayed the hell at home!”

“Am I right in assuming you know her very, very well … as in ‘girlfriend’?”

“Ex-girlfriend.” He corrected firmly.

“I see … she is very attractive. How long has she been your ex-girlfriend?”

“About six weeks, I suppose … it doesn’t really matter. You say she’s attractive. Hah! Flamboyant is more like it. Where you are unpretentiously lovely, Fiona is too showy. Blokes fall all over themselves when she walks in a room and she loves it. I told her she was acting like a ‘tart’ and shoved off.”

“Oh, dear. How long were you two together?”

“Eighteen months … give or take a month.”

Lordy, lordy …an evening that started out with dazzling chandeliers and sparkling champagne has taken a decidedly dicey turn. Richard is besotted with this Fiona person and jealous, too. Oh, good grief! He hasn’t even noticed the band is no longer playing a fox trot.

“Richard, I’d rather not fox trot to a tango. Let’s go outside onto the gallery and gaze at the stars.”

“What? Yeah, sure … it might be cold though.”

Moving from the warmth of the ballroom through tall double doors and over to an iron railing caused shivers to shudder up and down Daisy’s bare arms and shoulders. The rain had stopped but the air was moist and chilly.

“You’re right, it is cold. Be gallant and lend me your beautifully tailored jacket. The vest should keep you warm for a bit. I want to talk to you … as a pal, not your date for the evening.”

“Daisy … I’ve been a bore as well as a brute. Let’s get out of here and go to a nightclub. I’ll make it up to you … we’ll have a grand time, I promise.”

“You’re a good man, Richard. There is nothing you need to ‘make-up for’. Now listen to me.” Daisy pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, handed him one and lit it with the gold lighter that was tucked into the pack’s cellophane wrapper.

“It is apparent that you have especially strong feelings for Fiona ... don’t interrupt, Richard, ... and possibly a problem with semantics. You say she’s flamboyant … I think she’s quite ‘glamorous’. Actually, she reminds me a little of Rita Haworth. In the states, Fiona would be considered a very ‘sexy’ woman. I’m pretty sure it was her lush attributes that attracted you in the first place. Is she suppose to stop being herself just because men tend to make fools of themselves in her presence?”

“You are being too generous by far, I think,” Richard grunted, blowing out another long stream of smoke and flipping the butt over the railing into the wet ferns.

“No I’m not. You are letting the past color your feelings. It was very brave of her to come to our table and face up to you after you called her a ‘tart’, and even a bit humbling to sit down and join the two us. You, on the other hand, acted like a jackass … pardon my French.”

“So, what do you suggest I do, Miss Know-It-All … call you a taxi and send you off into the night alone, order her date to get lost and then get down on my knees and tell Fi that I don’t mind if she ‘flaunts’ herself in front of all and sundry?”

“If you wish to be vulgar I suppose you could handle it that way.” Daisy leaned back against the railing and reached for his hand. “Or”, she said softly, “We could go back to the table, share our champagne, make pleasant conversation, courteously dance with the other’s partner and hope that our charming ways will win out over hard feelings.”

Richard sighed. “I’m not convinced you’re ‘pop’ analysis is error-free and I’m not pleased to be spending the evening as you suggest, but I will agree that I was a trifle tactless, so we’ll do it your way.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Smiling up at him, she returned his coat and they walked arm in arm back into the glitzy ballroom. Mr. Sinclair and Fiona had dramatically brought to a close a passionately well-executed tango and joined their tablemates.

As Big Ben struck eleven, Richard dropped Daisy off at Hill Manse. He apologized again about the evening not working out as he’d originally planned.

“I had a nice time, Richard. Truly, I did. You are a marvelous dancer.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Good night.”

Daisy was impressed with Fiona and hoped Richard would make up with her. By the way he’d held her when they were dancing, it was obvious he still cared. Daisy also figured she was gaining some practical experience needed to run an ‘advice for the lovelorn’ column, if all else failed.

“Thank you, Morris. Yes, I had a very nice time. Is the family in? I hope you didn’t stay up waiting for me to get in.”

“The family has retired, Miss, and so will I as soon as Mr. Portchier leaves. He’s still working in the library.”

“Oh ... well ... for heaven’s sake, he should have gone home hours ago. You go on to bed, Morris. I’ll scoot him out and lock the door.”

“Yes, Miss … Thank you, Miss.”

Quietly opening the library door, Daisy placed a hand over her stomach as it began to stir up enormous butterflies. Good grief! This man has the oddest effect on my innards. Seeing that only the desk lamp was lit and Jackson wasn’t working there, she closed the door behind her and peered around the dim room. A long expanse of trousers with boots attached to the ends indicated that the man was slouched in the leather chair … sound asleep. Tip toeing to the chair, she leaned over him and couldn’t keep her fingers from gently brushing back the shock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“Mmmmm, Daisy”, he murmured sleepily and pulling her onto his lap, cradled her head on his arm and covered her mouth with his. It all happened in a second. The kiss started rather languidly but when her lips parted beneath his, it deepened quickly. Sighing softly, she melted into the kiss before she could even think how it had come about. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed her body tightly against him.

When his lips lifted an inch or so from hers, Jackson whispered, “I thought I was dreaming.” Then he dipped his head and kissed her ... again and again.

Daisy didn’t pull away … she wanted to be right where she was. Lordy, I hardly know the man, and yet...

Against her lips he mumbled, “Been waiting for you, Daisy. How was the dance?”

“Hmmm, alright … interesting … met some nice people.” Daisy pressed her mouth over his and did to him what he’d been doing to her.

Jackson’s lips skimmed over her face, throat and shoulders and back again to cover her mouth. His hand caressed her arm and slid over the chiffon covering her hip and thigh. When he felt his fingers fiddling with the zipper pull on the back of her strapless gown, he new the steamy stuff had to stop. Laying her gently back against his arm he stroked his forefinger along her jaw line. Her Grace Kelly hairdo, an elegant chignon affair, was straggling a bit so he pulled out the pins, dropping them beside the chair, and combed his fingers through her silky hair.

Daisy’s eyelids were heavy, making it difficult to look up at him.

“We might be able to keep this up for awhile longer, but it wouldn’t be a good idea.” Jackson cupped her chin in his hand. “Honey, things are changing fast between us. I want to talk about it. Okay with you?”

“Lordy, Jackson,” she murmured, her voice breathy and unsteady. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m not even embarrassed. Honestly, I’ve never acted this way before and I’ve been engaged twice. What must you think of me?”

‘Well, Darlin, I think I’m crazy about you. You knocked me sideways the first day we met. You’re the finest, the loveliest, the best woman I’ve ever known.”

Steadying herself as best she could, Daisy stroked her fingers through the lock of hair that fell over his forehead. ”Well, sir, I doubt you’ve known very many. This afternoon you told me you were exceedingly wary of women. I think you used the word ‘jaded’.”

“I exaggerated somewhat. I have known some very nice ladies. It’s simply that I’m exceedingly hard to please when it comes to being with one particular lady.

She smoothed her hand over his hollowed cheek. “Cowboy”, in her mind she’d called him ‘cowboy’ since the day they’d met. “For the last eighteen months I’ve stayed as far away from men as a girl can and still exist in the world. But, in the last few weeks I’ve sent an ex-fiancé, with a flea in his ear, back to an Island paradise he wanted to share with me. I dated Richard, a man who has been a good friend to me, but whose highest priority in life is playing sports, watching sports and writing about sports. And, tonight, I think I successfully played cupid between him and his ex-girlfriend. Then I came back here and necked outrageously with a southern gentleman in a leather armchair in the home of my employers, possibly jeopardizing a great job and fabulous living conditions. I think I’ve gone round the bend?”

“You’re not alone, Darlin. Wherever you’ve gone ... I’m right there with you.”

Jackson’s tongue glided over her throat and bare shoulders and Daisy arched to make access easier for him.

Completely at ease in his arms, she lifted his face to hers and lightly brushed her fingers over his lips.

“Daisy, honey, what’s happening between us is wonderful. It’s what I’ve been hoping would happen. So, what I’m about to say might unsettle you a little, but ... I have to say it.” He kissed the back of her fingers. “I love you, Darlin. Marry me … soon ... as soon as the law here allows.”

Stunned ... Daisy rolled off his lap and backed up against the desk. “You want me to marry you? But, we’ve never even dated!” She was definitely unprepared for this development.

“Of course we have … right here in this chair for near on an hour.” Jackson got up and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her sweet and long. “Marry me Daisy,” he said softly, keeping her pressed against him, stroking his hand up and down her back.

She had to hold onto his shoulders as her legs were refusing to hold her up. “We don’t know each other,” she whispered unevenly. “I’m old fashioned … I want to love my husband.”

“Darlin, would you care if something good happened to me or if something bad happened to me? Would it make a difference to you, I mean?”

“Well … yes, of course. I suppose it would make a difference. I like you ... a lot.” Oh, lordy, lordy ... what an understatement!

“Do you trust me?” He continued. “Do you think I’m an honest, dependable, responsible, honorable and faithful man?”

“From what little I know of you, I think you probably possess those traits in some measure. You appear to be a very fine person.” Daisy looked up at him. “What has that to do with love?”

“Loving starts with the seeds of caring for and trusting another person. Over time the seeds grow, if nourished properly, and the love grows, too. I promise to care for you and trust you, Daisy ... therefore, I love you, honor you and cherish you and will continue to do so all the rest of my life.”

“Jackson, I’d want marriage to be a partnership … an equal partnership. I’d want a ‘say’ in everything. I know that’s not a religious or even a socially acceptable concept regarding marriage, but it’s how I’d want it to be.”

“That’s the way it would be, Daisy, I promise. Marry me ... right away.”

“I won’t promise to ‘obey’ you.”

“Will you promise to cherish me?”

“I could love, honor and cherish the man I married, but Jackson, listen to me.”

Daisy moved out of his embrace using the desk to help steady her. “You can’t be serious. We’re not the kind of people that decide the rest of our lives based on a few kisses. How we’re feeling right now is … well, you know … sexual. We’re acting like hormonal teenagers.”

“I have an advantage over you, sweetheart.” Jackson said walking toward her.

Daisy quickly moved behind the sofa putting a barrier between them, bracing her arms on the upholstered back.

“These three weeks and four days we’ve been working together, I’ve thought about you constantly. But, you’ve been so busy dating the ‘wrong’ man, you haven’t made time to think about the right man … me.” He held out a hand to her and smiled. “Neither of us was acting like over-sexed teenagers. We were acting on very adult feelings. Come here and sit beside me, honey. I need you close to me.”

As he spoke, Daisy cautiously moved around the sofa, laid her hand in his and sat beside him. She was dazed ... addlepated. No one had ever wanted her like Jackson said he wanted her. Was it real? Was the third time a charm? She really wanted to believe it was. She really did want a husband and family ... some day.

Rubbing his thumb over her palm he said, “Even though I had cause to be wary of women, it didn’t stop me from imagining the kind of girl I’d want to settle down with someday. She’d be beautiful, of course …smart, independent, honest, generous and fun to be with. You are all of those things and so much more. You are my ‘dream’ girl, Daisy.”

She leaned back against the cushions and thought about what she wanted to tell him. “You know I’ve been engaged twice … once when I was eighteen, that was Pat, then I succumbed to David’s charms when I was twenty-two. Both times I thought, ‘this is the perfect man for me’. Both of them pretty much ‘dumped’ me. I think I’m afraid to ‘to go for it’ again. Was ‘coward’ on your ‘dream’ girl list?”

“You’re cautious … not a coward. I grabbed you, kissed you at least a hundred times and proposed to you in less than an hour. I’m so absolutely sure you’re the girl for me that I want to convince you that I’m the guy for you. Tell me what you need from me to make that happen, honey.” Jackson brought the back of her hand to his lips and held it there.

“Let’s be precise here. We kissed each other at least a hundred times … I whole-heartedly cooperated.” Daisy looked at his fine, strong features. “Do you want children? Do you like small towns or large cities? Where do you want to live? Do you like to travel? Are you a ‘sportsaholic’? Can you cook, clean and do laundry?” She chuckled softly ... then sighed. “If you got into a ‘fix’, would you disappear without a word?”

Jackson had been watching her eyes as she rattled off the questions. After the last one, he gathered her to him and said, “I’ll start by saying I’ll never leave you. Daisy, I promise. I will never leave you.” He nuzzled her neck then slid over and kissed her lips. Stroking his hands over her shoulders and down her arms he said, “As for the rest … I want children, I’d like to travel across the States as well as Europe someday, I can cook, clean and do laundry, I like to watch the World Series if the Dodgers or Yankees are playing, and I think we both should decide on where we are going to live.”

“You’re a prince among men, Cowboy,” she murmured.

“Is that a yes, honey?”

“No ... it’s an observation.” Brushing her thumb over the nearly invisible bristles covering his chin, she asked. “Why marry so soon? Why couldn’t we date for a while?

“Darlin ... as tonight has proved so far, we won’t be able to just ‘date’ ... I won’t be able to, anyway. Every fiber in my body aches for you. We are together at least eight hours of every weekday and, if I have anything to say about it, more on the weekends. I’d go out of my mind for wanting you. Do you understand?”

As he was telling her this, his fingers were stroking the soft swells that brimmed above the top of her gown. Her body was fizzy and flushed and her breathing erratic.

“Yes, I understand. And, even though you’re probably right about marrying ‘soon’ ... I need some time to think about everything. Please go back to your flat. Come see me tomorrow and I’ll give you an answer … honestly, I will.”

Daisy slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him good night. He kissed her goodnight, too … a good many more times.

----

Richard was feeling oddly happy. Daisy didn’t seem to mind leaving the ballroom early. She wasn’t upset about Fiona’s presence at their table. In point of fact, she encouraged him to dance with Fiona. His ego had tottered at first, but as soon as he’d pulled Fi into his arms on the dance floor … everything felt right again.

Heading for home rather than his club, the bizarre events of the evening whirled in his head. Fiona brazenly coming to our table knocked me for a loop. She looked fantastic … sexy as hell. It was that kind of carrying on that split us up. But, there she was, smiling as if nothing had happened. Hadn’t she any pride? And, that Sinclair bloke she’d turned up with, what a joke! He was as happy dancing with Daisy as with Fi. There’s a huge difference between those women. Daisy is classy, candid but … well … too damned independent and, apparently, not overly taken with me. Fiona isn’t what you’d call classy, more like hip and trendy. She speaks her mind and, most of the time, she tries to please me and makes it obvious she wants me. When we danced tonight, her body melted into me. Her lips and breath brushing my neck nearly undid me. I want her to be sexy … but just for me. I don’t like other blokes slobbering over her.

He slowed down to turn into the drive, then changed his mind, turned round and drove to Fiona’s tiny flat. She damn well ought to be home by now.

Lights shown through the curtains … she was home and, he hoped, alone. He walked up the front stoop and rang the bell. After a few minutes she opened the door, arched her brows quizzically, stepped aside and allowed him to come in. She was wrapped in a brightly colored oriental silk dressing gown and had removed the pins from her hair so that the heavy red waves spilled over her shoulders.

His stomach clutched into a hard knot and he was about to ask her if she was alone but thought better of it. He knew she was alone. She was Fiona, not a tart. He was sorry he’d called her one.

Motioning him towards a chair she asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, thanks … bourbon and soda if you have it.” Richard sat and watched her walk over to the drinks trolley. It was usually he who measured the drinks, stirred the martinis, popped the champagne corks. Tonight he was an uninvited ex-beau, not a lover. “Fi, I want to apologize for calling you a tart a few weeks ago. I didn’t mean it. A fellow can get nasty when he’s in a temper. Will you forget I said it?”

“You didn’t really call me a tart, Richard, you said I acted like a tart. The ‘acted like’ made a big difference. When we were together, you were the only man I was ever with or wanted to be with.”

She handed him a tumbler and without pouring anything for herself, she sat on the sofa opposite him, crossed her lovely legs, allowing one long limb to show when the robe parted, and pulled a cigarette pack from a pocket. Shaking one out, she held it between her lips and waited for Richard to light it.

He promptly did so and pulled out one of his own and lit it. Leaning back into the chair, he exhaled a long trail of smoke. “I want to believe you, Fi, but when other fellows can’t keep their eyes in their head when you’re about ... well, blokes say ugly things about a woman who looks like you do. I don’t like them saying those things about you. I know you think I was just jealous but, believe me Fi, it was more than that.”

Fiona listened and didn’t flinch. “I wanted your attention, Richard. No … it was more than that. I needed your attention.” She firmly ground out the cigarette that she’d barely smoked in the ashtray on the table beside her. “When we first met, you knocked yourself out for me. You took me places, introduced me to your mother, the people you worked with and your mates. When I wasn’t working, I went to sports events with you. But after a while, I wasn’t special enough or pretty enough or whatever, because you paid less and less attention to me. You’d invite me to a dance or a game once-in-a-while when it suited you to be in my company. I knew you went out with other women, slept with other women. Then, I decided to outrageously flirt with you and sometimes it was in public, but I flirted only with you. That made you perk up a great deal and you asked me out more often. We went along that way quite merrily for a few weeks and then the flirty behavior that had pleased you began to embarrass you when your mates teased you about it. After that, you got jealous because your mates said I was probably too sexy to be just a ‘one man woman’. So, you dumped me. I was mortified … ashamed at how hard I’d tried to keep you interested in me. When I saw you tonight with your prim and proper date, I thought, ‘what the hell, Fi, let’s see how charming the great sports writer can be when face to face with an ‘old flame’.”

“God, Fi … you’ve always been pretty enough, special enough. It was just that I … hell, we weren’t engaged or anything … so I dated other women, it didn’t mean anything. I’d always come back to you. I suppose I am sort of responsible for you making me jealous. I’m sorry, luv.” He slid over to the sofa and sat next to her.

“Sorry for what?” Fiona shifted from beneath his arm and stood up, went to the trolley and poured herself a small sherry. “Taking me for granted or liking the flirt for awhile, but not liking what your mates said about me? I’m confused here.”

“I’m sorry you thought you had to do what you did so I’d notice you. I didn’t mean to ignore you ... just not ready to settle, I suppose.”

“Tell me about your American friend, Daisy. She’s nice, real nice.”

“If you’re thinking Daisy is my girlfriend, you’re wrong. She thought I treated you badly and made me return to the table and be a polite host. She’s too opinionated by half and couldn’t see the back of me soon enough tonight.

“Did you come here just to apologize for calling me a ‘tart’?”

“Yeah, and to ask why you stopped at my table.” He smiled and held his hand out to her, hoping she’d come and sit next to him.

“Well, you’ve apologized and now you know why I stopped at your table. It’s getting late … you should go.” Fiona turned toward the front door.

“Wait, Fi, don’t send me off so soon. Sit here beside me. I want to talk about us ... maybe getting back together again. I’ve missed you.” Still smiling, he patted the cushion next to him.

She shook her head. “I’m dating a couple other chaps now and feeling pretty good about myself … not so needy, you see. I’m not real serious about anyone, yet, but I’m young and fellows find me attractive and fun to be with. Aubrey’s a sweet man, a good dancer and adapts well to my moods.” Liar, liar! Opening the door she said, ”I want you to go now, Richard. Goodnight.”

----

It was about one a.m. when Jackson left the Manse.

Daisy admitted to herself, as she climbed between the cool sheets, that she’d been fully aware of the strong attraction between the two of them ever since they’d met. Even though she tried to ignore it, the heady frisson never faded ... it grew stronger. She’d managed ... up to now ... to keep her weaker moments in check.

Richard had been a safe date, a friend ... she didn’t worry about him. But Jackson was different. Daisy tried not to pay any heed to his slow smile and measured drawl ... those mannerisms that could have turned her into jelly if she’d hadn’t been so skittery where men were concerned. Often, she’d peer up from the papers on her desk to find him staring at her. He didn’t look away … he’d just relax back into his chair and smile that wicked way he had, and she’d find herself blushing ... her insides turning all squishy. She remembered the many times she’d misplaced her reading glasses and without warning he’d be standing in front of her casually placing the spectacles on her nose, carefully positioning the stems over her ears, inadvertently sliding his fingers through her hair. A couple of times he lightly flipped his forefinger over the tip of her nose and winked. Each of those occasions had caused her innards to swirl and plunge into virgin nether regions.

Twice he’d brought her a large bunch of daisies. “Just wanted to bring a little spring into the room”, he’d said. This afternoon when they’d put together a lunch in the kitchen with Donal, he’d helped make a simple meal a fun event. And then, later, listening to him in that ‘just between you and me’ kind of way, tell of his childhood and wartime experiences ... he’d touched her heart.

The man is an unknown quantity ... a stranger ... a sweet talker ... a flirt ... an experienced bachelor, which is probably why he’s such a darn good kisser! I might be a little lonely but I’m not desperate.

Having tossed this way and that most of the night, Daisy heaved a sigh as she settled on the decision she knew she had had to make and was finally able to fall asleep.

Too early the sun streamed through the window slicing a path over her eyelids waking her up. She was barely able to move as she was wrapped up tightly in the bedclothes.

Good grief! I’m a living, breathing mummy, She rolled back and forth across the bed all the while wiggling and squirming out of the blanket’s obstinate hold and made for the bathroom. After a long soak, she blew her hair dry and pulled it back into a ponytail, sparingly made-up her face and chose from the closet a sleeveless white blouse that she tucked into slim black Capri pants. It was Saturday and she could dress casually.

Walking into the dining room, Daisy saw Jackson drinking coffee with Alistair. Seeing him so unexpectedly caused her to blush and her heart to bump wildly against her ribs.

Take it easy. He’s just a man ... he won’t bite.

“Good morning, Daisy. Portchier and I’ve been going over names of vets to be interviewed in Belgium. Have some coffee … breakfast will be set out in a while.”

“Good morning. Thanks, I will.”

“So you and young Portchier are going to be making a day of it, I hear … car trip … picnic … theatre this evening. As Donal would put it, it’s a smashing day, the sun looks to be out for a good long while … not a cloud in the sky.”

“Uhh … well ... I’ll just leave you two to go over those names and take my coffee into the library.” Not looking at Jackson, she filled a beaker and headed for the door.

Lordy! My heart’s about to burst from my chest ... I’ve got to sit down.

Sitting her cup on a side table, she moved to the chair. Before she could lower herself into it, though, Jackson had walked into the room, closed the door, and came to stand in front of her.

Cupping her face with his long-fingered hands he asked, “You’re going to marry me … right? And, soon?”

She nodded, yes, and slid her palms up his chest, over his freshly shaved cheeks into his thick blond hair. Mindful of the huge step they were taking, they kissed each other hard, holding on tight, as if they were falling in a dream … sealing the promises they’d made to each other.

The happenings of the day will not be specifically reported upon. Suffice it to say that it was a sunny, mild, beautiful morning that continued throughout the afternoon, and the evening was strewn with starlight and moonshine, as the poets would have it. Nevertheless, t’was noted by some that the couple couldn’t keep their hands off one another.