Daisy and the Duke by Janice Maynard Page A

was tired, hungry and cranky. The flight from Charlottesville to Atlanta to Gatwick to Manchester had been interminable. And the subsequent bus ride even more so. The prospect of her first hop across the pond had excited her, but now that she was here, she barely had the energy to be civil. Perhaps she should have built a day into her schedule to recover from the jet lag.
    The subject of her current displeasure was well over six feet tall and had the hard, muscular frame of a man in his prime. He was wickedly handsome, with tousled chestnut hair and long-lashed hazel eyes. She couldn’t, however, afford to be distracted, even if his blatant masculinity and clipped speech made her knees wobble.
    She almost never made snap decisions about people, but this boorish farm laborer set her teeth on edge. He was being either deliberately obtuse or obstructive—or both.
    Drawing on her last ounce of determination, she smiled at him with the cajoling humor that usually stood her in good stead. “Surely you could escort me to the castle…introduce me to His Grace?”
    The man narrowed his eyes, suspicion in his gaze. “Common laborers don’t, as a rule, walk up to the front door and let themselves in.”
    “Then perhaps we could access the house unobtrusively somewhere else. All I need to see, at least at first, is the library. And I won’t say you helped me. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know your name, do I? Plausible deniability will work in our favor.”
    “You Americans are so pushy.”
    She felt her cheeks flush. The man spoke in educated accents. But he was dressed in threadbare tobacco-colored trousers and a weathered leather bomber jacket that looked as if it might have actually been worn during a world war.
    Perhaps his family hadn’t had the means to send him to university. It was a shame, because he had a natural air of command that would have carried him far in business. It was possible he was an overseer for the duke, in charge of the property. But that still didn’t explain why he was mucking about in a hog pen.
    She refused to let his comment dissuade her from her quest. “I like to think of it as being goal-oriented. Or are you a chauvinist who believes women belong in the bedroom and the kitchen, and nowhere near the boardroom?”
    “I’m sure you could handle all three.” His voice was smooth as whiskey, and he smiled for the first time as he spoke, a quick, flashing grin that stole her breath. The men Daisy usually dated were intellectuals, professors and the like. She had never been attracted to the earthy, works-with-his-hands type. Until today.
    But she wasn’t here for a holiday fling. Reaching into her purse, she extracted a twenty-pound note. “I’m running out of time. Are you above being bribed?”

Chapter Three
    Ian kept his face straight with difficulty. The urge to laugh was almost overpowering. “I wouldn’t feel right,” he said. “About taking your money.”
    “My expenses are being covered. And you’d be doing me a huge favor.” Daisy grasped his hand in both of hers and curled his fingers around the bill.
    At that moment, everything changed. Because Ms. Daisy Wexler had the softest, most delicate touch Ian had ever felt. Immediately, his mind conjured up wicked, unexpected scenarios of him and Daisy frolicking in bed…naked…with those slender fingers wrapped around his—
    Bloody hell…
He cleared his throat, stepping back half a stride, all amusement vaporized by the blasting surge of lust that threatened to bring him to his knees. No longer touching her, he strove to regain his senses. Dukes did not frolic, particularly with strangers. Therein lay the path to ruin. This woman was dangerous.
    And yet Ian had never wanted to be a duke. He was a man, too, damn it. And this man didn’t want to let Daisy go just yet.
    The money in his hand burned his skin. Without second-guessing his actions, he stuffed it in her tote, taking care not to make contact with her in any