Chapter One
Lady Daffodil stood in front of the stove and willed herself not to shed tears. Not that anyone was there to notice. Well, her brother, Jacob, would see that she cried but he wouldn’t judge her. He’d most likely think any drops of liquid leaking from her eyes had been caused by all the smoke currently filling the room.
“You did better this time, Petal.” He used her pet nickname that he’d given her as a small boy. Now that he was fifteen, he rarely used such affections. But apparently, he thought she needed the comfort today.
Not that she didn’t appreciate the gesture but as she took the smoking roast out of the oven, a single tear leaked from her right eye. Fortunately, she had to squeeze them both shut as more smoke billowed from its belly so her distress most likely went unnoticed. “Doing better does not fill our stomachs. This was our last bit of meat.”
He straightened his shoulders and patted her arm. “I’ll trim it like I did last time. I’m sure we can eat some of it.”
Daffodil didn’t answer as she waved a dishrag to try and clear the smoke. She sometimes wondered if being the middle child made her the most worthless. She was eighteen, a full three years older than Jacob, and yet here he was comforting her. Not to mention she’d nearly completed her family’s shame after her father had passed away and left them almost penniless.
Her eldest sister, Violette, had left with their mother to meet several potential suitors. What was Daffodil doing to aid her family’s crisis? Burning food.
In her defense, as a lady, she’d never learned to cook. But as their money had dwindled, so had their staff. Their one remaining servant, who had stayed behind to chaperone them, had fallen and was currently bedridden. Daffodil pushed back the fresh tears and told herself that crying wouldn’t help. But she wished her mother or her sister were here.
Jacob set to work trying to carve up the roast as she watched over his shoulder. But Daffodil’s thoughts immediately turned to Violette. How were her visits going? Had she made a match?
But then she felt guilty. She didn’t wish a terrible husband on her sister. She hoped for Violette to find happiness, not just settle for the first man who would take her. Still, their situation grew desperate and it fell to Violette to save them.
She wasn’t able to think on their dilemma further as the pounding of feet on the servants’ stairs alerted her that she and Jacob were not alone. She straightened, fear trickling down her back. Or was that sweat? Who could possibly be here? Turning, she watched in horror as the kitchen door swung open.
“What the bloody hell is happening down here?” A stranger’s deep baritone voice boomed through the smoke-filled air. Daffodil squinted into the smoke, trying to see who it could be. She stepped in front of Jacob, wanting to protect him but wondering what she might possibly do. “And why is no one answering the door?”
“Get behind me, Petal,” Jacob called, shoving her to the side and behind his larger body as he swung the knife about like a rapier.
“Jacob,” she gasped. That caused her to breathe in a great deal more smoke and then to begin violently coughing.
Forgetting all about the stranger, Jacob turned back to her still holding the knife. “Petal? Are you all right?”
Daffodil couldn’t answer for a moment before finally, tears now streaming down her face from all the coughing, she pushed out, “Didn’t I tell you that my cooking would be the death of one of us?”
A hearty chuckle reminded her that they were not alone. But before she could do anything, strong arms lifted her off her feet and cradled her against a massive chest. Its rock-hard muscle made her gasp again, which in turn made her cough all the more.
“Let’s get you out of here.” His deep voice rumbled through his chest, reverberating through her even as his strong arms held her tight. “Is the house going to burn down?”
She shook her head and then mentally chastised herself. He couldn’t see her through all the smoke. “No, only the roast and my sense of self-worth has suffered.”
He didn’t laugh openly, but it shook his chest, pushing against her body in a way that put her at ease.
“Come on, Jacob,” he called to her brother. “We’ve much to discuss.”
Daffodil knew that she should demand he put her down, insist he tell her who he was and why he had barged into their home uninvited. But as he sheltered her, for just a moment, she closed her eyes and leaned her full weight into his strong arms. She was tired.
A memory of another man holding her caused her to stiffen. She knew better than to trust any man but one who barged into her home and just plucked her into his arms…she needed to keep her wits about her.
How did Violette carry her burdens so effortlessly? She’d grown to appreciate her sister’s efforts these past weeks a great deal.
As they made their way down the hall, the smoke cleared and Daffodil looked up to the man who carried her. Her eyes widened as she assessed his features. She noted his strong jaw first, a day’s growth of beard making it appear rough and masculine. His eyes were a distinctive shade of blue, dark and stormy that only added to the air of mystery about him. Dark hair curled about his collar and ears, and she wished to reach up and touch it. Highly inappropriate, she knew, but then again, he was carrying her.
“Where is the nearest sitting room?” He looked down at her then and her breath stopped. Though his nose was slightly crooked, as though it had been broken, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. While his features were strong and masculine, there was a softness in his eyes and lips that made her breathless.
She reminded herself to breathe as she tried to speak, but no words came out. Silly girl, she chastised herself. She knew better than to allow her tongue to get tied.
“The only one we use is upstairs and to the right.” Jacob called behind her.
“Why is that the only one you use?” The man looked about their townhouse. She could see him noting the blank walls, the dirty lights.
“Of all the questions you could be asking, that seems the least important.” Pushing the words out made her realize that she ought to have him put her down. Daffodil tried to sit up a little in his arms, suddenly feeling at a disadvantage. The entire exchange was so inappropriate.
“Quite right, my little Petal.” He tightened his arms, looked down at her, and gave her a breathtaking grin. It was full of mischief, the kind she hadn’t experienced in ages. Life had become so serious of late.
She raised her brows. “I am capable of walking now, thank you.”
His grin only widened as he leaned down and whispered close to her ear, “But I like carrying you.” His breath tickled he