Page 16 of Sweet Duke of Mine

THERE IS MORE

H e kissed her softly at first. Because he was a guest. Because he was a gentleman. Because, despite the way she set her own course in the world—running a business, raising her brother—there was a vulnerability beneath her strength. One she had no doubt worked hard to conceal.

And he wanted to know why.

Likely, she hadn’t even realized she’d exposed that part of herself, but when she had stated, so simply, that he could stay with her… something had cracked open in him.

And now, here they were.

He caressed her arms, his touch deliberate, sliding slowly up to cradle her heart-shaped face. She was warm beneath his hands, the scent of honeysuckle and soap surrounding him like a memory just out of reach.

“Alastair,” she whispered against his mouth.

She parted her lips, and he took his time—exploring, savoring her taste like a man starved.

When her arms wound around his neck, his control began to slip. When she pressed her body against his, it slipped even further.

Daisy’s enthusiasm fired his own, sending heat racing through his limbs, coiling tight in his gut. His body responded in ways that would make any honorable man take pause.

Because they were alone.

Because she was trembling in his arms.

And because, even though he had no memory of his past… he knew himself well enough to recognize that this woman—this moment—deserved… all of him.

She was a woman to be reckoned with—one who would bring a dying stranger into her home and then take it upon herself to nurse him back to life.

He smoothed his palms down her arms, learning her shape, appreciating the slim strength beneath her softness. Then lower, around her waist, anchoring her against him.

Daisy . The name was perfect for her. A flower not only beautiful and sunny but strong enough to endure harsh sun and strong winds.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispered. Not with his future unknown—or his past for that matter. And yet the present was all he had. It was the only thing that was real.

And Daisy was real. Her mouth, her skin…

She broke the kiss and moaned into his neck. “Finally,” she whispered. “It’s been so long.”

Finally?

What the devil?

Alastair froze, his arms still locked around her.

As badly as he needed to keep right on kissing her—to act, in fact, on a slew of wicked cravings—her words gave him pause.

“ You made up the name… Alastair,” he murmured, testing the name on his tongue. “It’s not a common name.” His voice hardened as realization struck. “The name you gave me. ”

He took a step back, arms falling to his sides. “What’s going on, Daisy?”

She stared at him, eyes wide—guilty.

“I want the truth,” he pressed. “Did you know me before?” His gaze swept over her, searching for answers. “I can’t imagine a soapmaker moving in the same social circles as a duke.”

And then a horrid possibility swept through him. “Are you working with them?” It was impossible, and yet. How would he know?

She paled. “Of course not.”

“Then what the devil is going on here?”

Her lips parted slightly, but she hesitated.

Alastair waited.

“I knew you before—” Her voice was soft, almost reluctant.

She dropped her lashes. “A long time ago. My father was a tenant on Woodland Priory, as his father was before him, and his father before that. I grew up there.” A shadow crossed her face. “Until your uncle evicted us.”

She hugged her arms around herself, and the weight of her confession settled over him.

Woodland Priory . An image stirred in the back of his mind—just out of reach.

“You grew up on the Duke of Lovington’s estate?” he asked.

Her expression turned guarded. “Yes.”

That gnawing sense of familiarity—the one that had plagued him since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her—tightened around his ribs.

“And we were… friends?”

Daisy swallowed, the movement of her throat betraying her hesitation. “More than friends.”

The words sent a jolt through him.

His gaze locked onto hers, and suddenly, his dreams didn’t feel like dreams anymore. The kisses, the way she fit against him like she belonged there .

Because she had belonged there.

“How much more?” His voice came out low, rough.

Pink bloomed across her cheeks. She dropped her gaze again, just for a moment, then lifted it, meeting his head-on. “We were… lovers.”

Something in his chest knew her answer before his mind could catch up. His body remembered. The way she felt in his arms, the taste of her lips, the fire that ignited when he touched her.

But with those feelings… a sharp unease pricked the back of his mind.

Had he taken advantage of Daisy and then left her? Had he abandoned her, knowing there was no future for them? That didn’t feel like something he would do.

But from what she’d said, he… had.

His hands flexed at his sides, torn because he still ached to touch her. But uncertainty held him back. If he had loved her once, how had he ever let her go?

“Daisy,” he said carefully. “What—exactly—happened between us?”

She exhaled a shaky breath.

It was too much.

Alastair pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for her to sit. “I think we need to talk,” he said.

But she only shook her head, ignoring the chair. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past.”

“It does matter, though. All of this matters. Why didn’t you tell me… before?”

She plucked at her apron, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t recognize you at first. When I found you, with your beard and all the blood, there was little to recognize.” She crossed to the window and gazed out at her carefully tended garden. “I didn’t suspect anything until you opened your eyes. The color… it’s quite memorable. But still, it didn’t seem likely. ”

“You recognized… my eyes?” Why did that make his heart skip a beat?

He wanted—no, he needed to know everything now. She knows me . It was difficult to imagine that this woman , that Daisy would give herself easily—or that she’d allow intimacies merely because he was the estate owner’s son.

What wasn’t she telling him?

And she’d recognized his eyes…

“The green color… it’s surrounded by yellow flecks that glow like gold.” A rueful smile flashed across her face. “I didn’t say anything because it seemed impossible, you know? Too much of a coincidence that it would be you, after all these years.” And then she looked up again, and there was no missing the confusion in her haunted stare. “Why, of all places, would you be left for dead behind my shop?”

Fate?

Alastair dropped into the chair he’d drawn out for her. Not because he’d tired himself out, but because her simple explanation all but crushed him.

After all these years…

“I need to know what happened. Before.” If she’d been one of the tenants’ daughters, he never should have become involved with her. But even as he acknowledged this truth, he understood why a younger version of himself would have pursued her.

Because this… connection between the two of them had been so powerful, it had managed to invade his dreams when nothing else had.

She let out a nervous-sounding laugh.

“We were friends at first. You caught me picking berries and insisted I share them. The next day, you taught me how to fish. I was four and ten and you were two years older—so very grown up. I didn’t realize you lived in the manor, and by the time you told me who you were, I didn’t care. We swam. We climbed trees. I’d never had a friend like you. Those are some of my fondest memories. And then later…”

“Later?”

“Things changed. The second summer, you held my hand. And sometimes kissed my cheek. We were pirates, but we were also spies. We even pretended to marry once.” She laughed. “And by the third summer… We believed ourselves to be soulmates. We were incredibly na?ve, of course. By then, my parents knew we met sometimes. My father warned me not to become attached. And rightly so.”

She tightened her arms around her middle before continuing.

“What happened?” Alastair pressed. Why did it end?

“Your father became ill, and you had to leave for London.”

“But not forever,” he said.

She let out another short laugh. “Yes. Forever. After your father passed, your uncle took over managing the estate. With your approval, he evicted the tenants who were behind in their rents.”

If her words were the truth, he had been a cad. And deep down, he knew she wasn’t lying.

Perhaps it would be better all-around if he never remembered.

Damn my eyes.

“I’m—”

“I don’t blame you.” She held up a hand. “Families with sons to work the land were allowed to stay. The steward said that in order for the estate to thrive, changes were necessary. I knew it wasn’t your fault. I realized that. I just wished?—”

Guilt pressed down on Alastair as he waited for her to finish.

She picked at a thread in her dress.

“Your uncle wanted me gone.” She swallowed hard. Dear God .

“What did you wish?” Alastair needed to hear it.

“I wished you had come back to face me—to tell me goodbye yourself.”

There was pain in her voice—a pain he knew she was trying to hide. A pain that he, apparently, had inflicted.

“We were friends first. You were my best friend. When I had to quit school, you brought me books to read. You encouraged me, and I almost believed I could be anything. Because you believed it.”

He’d obviously lacked backbone as a young man. Alastair clenched his jaw.

By God, he might be missing some memories, but he knew his own mind. And regardless of what happened between Daisy and himself now, he’d never let her suffer again.

“Not remembering—I cannot...” He needed answers—for himself, but also for her—even if he ended up resenting the person he’d been.

Daisy crossed to where he sat. “You will remember.”

But Alastair simply shook his head. “You must have hated me.”

She dropped to her knees and took his hands in hers. “I never hated you. Your father meant the world to you, and he needed you. And I understood that upon his death, incredible responsibility would land on you. Your uncle, I think, believed he was protecting you…”

From Daisy?

Alastair stiffened.

“He knew about the two of us, and of course, he didn’t approve. I’ve no doubt he did his best to discourage you from coming home.” She squeezed his hands. “I was upset, but I understood.”

“I should have returned.” Alastair’s throat felt unusually thick. He didn’t like the truth she painted, and yet, he believed every word she said .

But now that he had a few pieces of the puzzle, he wanted to sort them out. “Tell me more about this uncle of mine.” He tugged her upward. “But from up here.”

He didn’t want her on her knees, especially on the heels of what she’d just told him.

He was the duke, and she’d been a tenant’s daughter. And scoundrel that he was, seeing her like that gave him massively inappropriate ideas.

He drew her onto his lap, and she did not resist. Instead, she made herself comfortable.

Holding her like this felt as natural as breathing. As though his body remembered everything, even if his mind did not.

“Lord Calvin Frampton is your father’s only brother—his younger brother. It was he who delivered the news of your father’s decline. He found—he interrupted…” She ducked her head. “Well, he came upon the two of us at a very inconvenient time.”

“Ah…” Alastair raised his brows, recalling his dream…

“I knew who he was, but of course, we had never been introduced. My father later admitted that your uncle advised him to keep the two of us apart, which he tried to do. But I didn’t take the warning seriously.”

Neither, it seemed, had he. “And later, your family was evicted,” Alastair surmised.

“Yes.”

“You believe my uncle was behind it.”

“Your uncle hired a new steward. At the time, I believed that might be your way of dealing with me. Only later did I realize that, until you turned one and twenty, your uncle, as your legal guardian, was running the dukedom. Especially as you needed to finish your education.”

“Right.” Alastair didn’t want to make excuses for himself.

“He is your heir presumptive.” Daisy spoke the words as though they had great meaning .

“Yes.”

“You used to joke that Lord Calvin coveted your position. And of course, you dismissed the existence of any real threat, but when I saw the article this morning, I couldn’t help but remember…”

“You think it’s possible that my uncle was the one who ordered me killed.”

Her suggestion landed like a punch to the gut. Was it truly possible that his own blood would go to such lengths?

Alastair didn’t want to believe it, but without his memory, and with no other evidence to go by, the possibility had to be considered.

“Like I said, I never knew him that well. But he would, in fact, benefit from your death… I could be wrong, but…”

Alastair shifted but kept his arms around Daisy, processing everything he’d just learned.

“That is precisely why I need to do something. How can I hide here when someone wants me dead?” He asked himself as much as her.

“You don’t have much choice right now, but you’ll figure it out.” Her voice softened. “Don’t act hastily, please? Give yourself time to remember.” She held his gaze steadily, and her mouth hovered a few inches from his.

“I hate when wisdom contradicts my wishes.”

“I know you are frustrated, but once you’ve healed, once you remember, you’ll have the advantage.”

“Because they think I’m dead.”

She winced, but replied, “Yes.”

His gaze flicked from her eyes to her mouth. And by God, he wanted nothing more than to see her smile again—to chase the concern out of her eyes. And to taste every inch…

“In that case.” Alastair swallowed hard. “I’m going to need a lot more furniture to repair.”

“I’ll be happy to arrange that.” She wriggled a little and sent him a teasing smile. “You could always help out with the laundry.”

“Laundry?” He lifted one of her hands, hands which knew hard work, hands that had labored to keep him alive. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Your wish is my command.”

“Only if you’re feeling better…”

“I’m fine.”

“Except for your head.”

“Well, yes…” He brushed his thumb along the back of her hand. “And I’ll deal with the laundry later. But right now, I’m going to kiss you.”

She sucked in a breath. “Because of the past?”

“Because of the present .”

Alastair leaned forward, capturing her mouth with his, surprised at the tenderness she brought out in him.

So strong, but she needed protecting. So proud, but she needed support. And there was so much more…

Several minutes passed, hands exploring, hearts racing, and the kiss that began like a gentle rain erupted into lightning and thunder.

Ragged breaths broke the silence when Daisy drew back, ducking her head.

He should be sorry. He was not.

He should regret it. He did not.

“This is all too much.” She stared at her hands, both planted on his shoulders. “Part of me wants to throw caution to the wind, but I’ve been here before. And…”

“There are no assurances, are there?” Blast and damn .

“It’s… complicated. And a little terrifying,” she admitted, finally looking up at him again.

“We need to… wait,” he said. Doubt and pain lurked in her gaze, and as much as he wanted to promise her the world…

She didn’t answer but pushed herself to stand, and after sending him a sad little smile, she disappeared into the kitchen .

Leaving Alastair to curse the person who’d treated her so callously in the past.

But also making a vow.

He would bring joy back to those blue eyes of hers. He’d ensure she had a reason to laugh every single day.

Unless fate wasn’t playing matchmaker after all—but was instead playing a cruel joke on them both.