The Bride Raffle (15 page)

“He’s a mighty fine man, too,” she elaborated teasingly, still gazing at Owen. “He’s strong and kind and handsome—”

“You already said that one.”

“—and if he doesn’t kiss me again soon, I can’t imagine—” Swiftly, Owen
did
kiss her. Ardently yet tenderly, he pulled her into his arms once more. He gazed down at her, truly
seeing
her in a way Daisy didn’t think he had before. Then, just when she feared he would change his mind, Owen brought his mouth to hers. His kiss was sweet, fraught with emotion and promise and, she fancied further, filled with the beginnings of love.

“See?” she said when their kiss was finished, feeling flushed and tingly and oddly optimistic. “Your wife, Renée, was right about you. I think you
could
still talk the blue from the sky—and make it happy to have fallen away, besides.” Daisy stepped a little closer. This time, she dared to put both hands on Owen’s shoulders, just as though they belonged there. “You might be a scoundrel, but you’re—”
mine
“—an admirable one.”

“Renée would not have agreed with you about
that
. She would have said there’s no such thing as an admirable scoundrel.”

“Well.” Daisy shrugged, not caring. “I’m right, so there’s no point arguing about it. You know how stubborn I can be.”

“Aw, Daisy.” Seeming almost as affected by their coming together as she was, Owen gazed at her. He stroked his
thumb over her cheek, then sighed. “If only I could be that certain.”

“You can be. I’ve just decreed it.”

“But,” Owen began, typically obstinate, “my past is—”

“In the past!” Daisy declared. She needed to make him understand. “It’s over with. You can leave it behind, just the way I’ve done…only without a daredevil’s train ride and a coat full of contraband earnings.” She grinned, feeling herself turn downright carefree. “Besides, how could I hold against you all the things you’ve done?” Boldly, she hugged him. “They’re exactly the things that have made you the man you are today.”

“That’s the trouble. You deserve more,” Owen alleged. “I’m going to make sure you get it, Daisy. I promise, I am. All the things I don’t have… I’ll make damn certain they’re yours.”

If he meant to improve himself, she couldn’t comprehend how. “Will that include a lifetime supply of cussing?”

“I’m not joking!” But Owen laughed, all the same. He looked at her, then shook his head. He laughed in a way that made Daisy’s heart turn over with reckless glee. “I mean what I say,” Owen said as he sobered, squeezing her hand in his. “I’m going to give you everything I can. Everything you need. Everything.”

“But all I want is you,” Daisy told him. There was no point holding back now. “Can you promise to give me that?”

In answer, Owen shook his head with—she assumed—vexation at her doggedness. Well, maybe she was being a mite bossy. Hoping to improve her rapidly devolving manners, she softened her tone. “Will you
please
give me you?” Daisy tried.
“Please?”

At that, Owen groaned. A heartbeat later, she was in his arms again, being thoroughly kissed. Giddily, Daisy clapped her arms around him. She kissed him back, triumphantly and
joyously, feeling that she’d finally made a sound decision at last.

Trusting Owen was right. It
felt
right. It
was
right.

It wasn’t until later that night, lying snugly and solitarily in Owen’s bed, remembering the exhilarating events of the day, that Daisy realized something she’d overlooked. Something important. Owen
hadn’t
promised to give her himself, it occurred to her. But he’d done it anyway. Hadn’t he? Yes. He’d kissed her. In his kiss, he’d shown her his caring. And wasn’t that just as good as a promise? Better even, owing to its forthrightness?

Assuring herself that it was, Daisy rolled over.

Then she realized something else: she was doing it again. She was closing her eyes. She was managing her life based solely on her own assumptions. What she needed were facts—and there was only one way to get those. With her time in Morrow Creek so limited, she couldn’t afford to dally, either.

Slipping out of bed, Daisy adjusted her borrowed lacy nightgown. She smoothed down her hair. She took a deep breath.

She plodded into the kitchen. She found Owen on his pallet in the semidarkness, his arms cradling his head as he gazed upward into the night. His face was somber, his hair tousled.

“Daisy! What’s wrong?” He sat up, all readiness and flexing muscles. Instantly alert, he looked at her. “Are you all right?”

“No.” Heart pounding, she shook her head. “I need you.”

“I’m right here.” He frowned. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“No. I mean…” She stepped nearer. “I need you.”

“Need me? For what?” Appearing confused, Owen rose.
He took her hand, certain about
her.
“Just name it, and it’s yours.”

“Fine.” Another deep breath. Her knees knocked. She hoped he’d understand what she was asking for. “Please, Owen,” Daisy said. “Will you
please
give me you? Truly, this time?”

Then, she knew, if he couldn’t be with her later, at least she’d have known love once. At least she’d have felt it…once.

And just when Daisy began to feel certain that Owen would refuse, just when she began composing a dithering apology in her head, Owen squeezed her hand. His fingers, she noticed, seemed to be trembling. Could a big, strong man like Owen truly be so affected? By her? By them? By the two of them, together?

Evidently—amazingly—he was. He swallowed hard, then nodded.

“I already said I’d give you anything,” Owen told her. “But I’ll be damned if I thought you’d ever be asking for
me.
”

His humbleness was endearing. His smile…was wicked.

So was Daisy’s, she discerned, when she gave his hand a pull, urging them both toward the bedroom. “Only you. Just you.”

Forever,
she added silently, wishing it could be true.

“Then for tonight,” Owen said, “that’s what you’ll have.”

He scooped her off her feet, into his arms. Whooping with surprise, Daisy felt herself being kissed into quietness.

“Shh,” Owen said, holding her securely. “Mind Élodie.”

“I will!” Daisy whispered. “I’m so sorry!”

But she wasn’t sorry for this. She wasn’t sorry for being with Owen. She wasn’t sorry for being held by him. She wasn’t sorry—but she was surprised—to feel tears spring to her eyes, unstoppably, from the moment when Owen carried her over his bedroom threshold…as tenderly as he would have a bride
on her wedding night. It was as close as Daisy would likely come to enjoying one of those, she knew. Its sweetness made her sigh.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being you, Owen.”

“If it’s brought me you, then that’s all I could ever want,” he told her with raw honesty. In the dimness, his eyes looked grave and warm. “I aim to do my best to show you that.”

Owen shouldered the door closed behind them. He gazed down at Daisy with open affection, then set her on her feet.

“There.” Scandalously, his grin flashed, wider than ever before. Just for an instant, Daisy caught sight of the fun-loving scoundrel he kept hidden away beneath his workaday cares. “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping much,” Owen said in a devilish tone, sliding his fingers seductively along her arm, “because this could take a long, long while between us.”

“I wish it could go on forever,” Daisy said honestly.

And even though she knew it
couldn’t
go on forever between them—even though Owen, for all his kindnesses, knew she’d be leaving soon and had never asked her to stay—all he did was nod.

Then, gently, Owen pulled Daisy into his arms and proceeded to dissolve the miles between them…kiss by kiss, smile by smile, caress by lingering caress, until there was nothing left but togetherness—and a love that, in the dreaminess of the moonlight, felt just as real to Daisy as real could ever be.

I
f Owen had needed any more proof that he was still a scoundrel at heart, all he had to do was roll over in his wide, rope-sprung bed, open his eyes…and look with wonder at the woman who had shared that bed with him for the past few nights.

Daisy
. Even watching her sleep, Owen felt awestruck by her. She was beautiful and kind and good—and she wanted to be with him. With
him
. Was there anything more wondrous than that?

Owen didn’t think so. Not that that excused his behavior; he knew it did not. When Daisy had come to him, he should have refused her. He should have—with his greater experience and knowledge of the things that went on between men and women—recognized that Daisy had most likely been lonely. He should have offered to keep her company—chastely and responsibly.

But Owen hadn’t done that. Instead, when his rascally nature had come to the fore—just as Renée had always warned him it would—he had instantly given in. Like the most love-
struck and lustiest of grooms, he’d carried Daisy across the threshold of his bedroom without a single qualm. Then he’d loved her, as well as he could, with a vigor and a reverence that amazed him.

In his lifetime, Owen had seen many things. But he’d never seen a sight like the one Daisy had presented, as she’d stood before him, wearing only her lacy nightgown, and implored him.

Will you
please
give me you?
she’d asked.

To put it plainly, Owen had been unable to say no.

He didn’t regret it, either. He couldn’t. Propping his head on his pillow now, gazing at Daisy in the morning sunshine, he couldn’t regret a single one of the nights they’d spent together. He’d loved them all. He’d loved holding Daisy in his arms and showing her how close true closeness could be. He’d loved kissing her, laughing with her, opening himself gratefully to her in the darkness that had cradled them both. He’d loved hearing her sigh, seeing her smile, knowing he’d pleased her. He
had
pleased her, too. Owen couldn’t help feeling proud of that. And happy, too. To judge by all that Daisy had told him, she’d never known real love before—not with that selfish dolt Conrad Parish. Not with any man. And maybe it was wrong for Owen to do what he’d been doing—to love her without right or lasting responsibility or even a spoken promise between them. But Daisy had wanted his love. Owen had wanted to give it. And even more than that, he’d wanted Daisy to know what it meant to be fully loved and properly cared for. At least for a while.

She sure as hell hadn’t been getting any of that love or caring from Conrad Parish. All she’d seemed to have gotten from Parish were heartache and confusion and criticism—and a baby. So before Owen delivered Daisy back to that man, he meant to love her completely and well. He meant to make sure
Daisy was as all-fired happy as she could be, for as long as possible.

And that’s how Owen knew he was still a scoundrel at heart. Worse, that’s how he knew he’d never be redeemed. Not now. Because he’d done his utmost to please Daisy—even with no right to do so—and now, days later, he still wasn’t a bit sorry.

In fact, he was
glad.
Lying there next to her, snug and warm and replete, Owen felt fiercely glad—and overwhelmingly protective, too. When—
if
—Conrad Parish turned up in Morrow Creek to claim Daisy, Owen told himself as he trailed his fingertips along Daisy’s arm, savoring the sleepy blush in her cheeks and the delightful pink pout of her mouth, he’d better treat her kindly and fairly. He’d better be
perfect
at being with Daisy. Otherwise, Owen would…

Well, he would die inside. He knew that.

But he wouldn’t be able to stop it. Because Conrad Parish was the father of Daisy’s baby, and she seemed to care for him. Against all reason, Daisy seemed to want to make excuses for that sorry knuck—to believe the twaddle he’d spewed at her and to blame herself for the problems they’d had…problems which, as she’d enumerated them, had included a dearth of kissing, a deficit of cuddling and a sorry lack of mutual regard.

Over the past few days—and nights—Owen had done his best to make up for those awful shortfalls. He’d done all he could to provide Daisy with a lifetime’s worth of feeling beloved…even though he’d had to cram those feelings into just a few days.

He didn’t know if he’d succeeded. After all, even a scoundrel could not rightly decipher all women, all the time. Owen felt reasonably certain he’d done a good job. All the same, one thing still nagged at him. One thing still echoed in his mind,
voiced in Daisy’s most melancholic tone and possessed of the power to make Owen stop where he stood.

That Élodie is right,
Daisy had said, before kissing him senseless,
and you’ll never love anyone, ever again.

Owen didn’t know where Daisy—and Élodie—had gotten that idea. He couldn’t remember telling Élodie that. He couldn’t imagine under what circumstances his daughter would have shared such a notion with Daisy, either. It bothered Owen mightily. It bothered him in ways he couldn’t describe. He’d been stricken when he’d first heard Daisy say those words, in the midst of her rambling chatter in his stable days ago, and Owen was still struck now.

Would
he love anyone again? Was he capable of it?

Or had his scoundrelly ways doomed him to be alone forever?

Uncomfortable with those questions, Owen shoved them from his mind. Right now, all that mattered was the moment at hand and the woman by his side. Right now, he could pretend Daisy was his and always would be. Right now, he could lose himself in her—in the two of them, together—and take them both to a place where questions didn’t matter. All that mattered was closeness.

With new thoughtfulness, Owen went on stroking Daisy’s arm. But this time, he broadened his reach. This time, he added soft kisses to his touching, and whispered words of caring to his nearness. And by the time Daisy’s eyes fluttered open—by the time she gave him a drowsy, besotted “Good morning”—Owen knew that everything good was already within his grasp. All he had to do was hold on…and try not to think about tomorrow.

Could he love again? He already had, Owen decided.
He was now
. The tenderness he felt for Daisy filled his heart nearly to overflowing. If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was. And if Daisy couldn’t feel that—if she couldn’t
decipher it and believe it—then mere words wouldn’t help that. But everything he
did
might. So, with new passion and devotion, Owen committed himself to making certain Daisy understood where they stood.

“Good morning,” he whispered back with a devilish smile. He levered himself over her, dedicated with all his heart and mind and soul to making sure she was happy, right now. “I hope you’re feeling well rested,” Owen said, “because I’m hoping for a number of lessons from you before you get started with Élodie.”

“Lessons?” Adorably, Daisy blinked. “What lessons?”

“I want to learn to memorize the look on your face when I do this.” Gently, Owen kissed her. He slid his body over hers, enjoying the sensuous pleasures of nakedness, warmth and closeness. He stroked her again, more boldly. “I want to learn how to make you sigh and smile and wriggle… Yes, just like that.” He smiled, loving the way Daisy wrapped her arms around him. “I want to learn all about you, Miss Walsh. Every part.”

She blushed even more prettily, if that were possible.

“I can’t imagine you’ve missed any parts of me!” she declared, seeming simultaneously bashful and thrilled. “You’ve been more than thorough, Mr. Cooper, I promise you.”

“Then does that mean—” he gave her another, more lingering kiss “—that I get an A in my lessons already?”

“Hmm. I can’t rightly say yet.” Her smile touched him, blessing him with its openheartedness and beauty. “Perhaps you should…” Another sigh. “Keep on doing what you’re doing,” Daisy managed to say in a breathy voice, “and we’ll see.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a new attention to the task at hand, Owen pulled back the sheets—the inexplicably scratchy sheets, which Miss O’Neill had taken to delivering as though
they were covered in prickly pear spines, and Daisy had taken to rewashing on her own to properly soften them. Then Owen slid lower, scandalously lower, all the better—he hoped—to make Daisy sigh with pleasure. He kissed her, intimately and enjoyably. “I just decided,” Owen told her. “I might need all day at this task.”

“All day?” With a smile in her voice, Daisy wriggled again, getting closer to him. “Are you sure? Perhaps you’re not doing this properly, Mr. Cooper, and that’s why you need all day.”

“Perhaps,” Owen agreed with a companionable nod. He gave her a leisurely kiss. “Or perhaps I’m hoping that, with enough practice, you’ll finally be pleased enough to never leave me.”

For a moment, Daisy stilled. Her gaze met his, full of seriousness and hope. “You don’t need…to do
that
for that.”

In that instant, Owen would have sworn he glimpsed love in her eyes. Love for
him
. He felt shaken to the core—happily so.

“But if you’d like to continue,” Daisy went on in a shy, impish tone, “then I certainly won’t stop you!”

“Whatever you want,” Owen said. It was his oft-repeated promise to her…one he’d done his utmost to fulfill.

He lowered his head again, lovingly giving Daisy everything he had—everything he could—and wishing only that it could be more. That
he
could be more. Because if Owen were honest, his own shortcomings were all that came between him and the future he wanted with Daisy. Well, that—and the damnable feelings she seemed to have for that ruinous scalawag Conrad Parish. If Owen could have swept away those things, if he could have changed them somehow… But he couldn’t, and that was that.

So for now, Owen loved Daisy with his entire heart and his able, willing body. For now, he hoped against hope that she could discern the love he gave to her…and welcome it,
besides. No matter that her love was more than he deserved in return. It was all that he wanted, and Owen prayed that would be enough.