“Lady Daisy?” the man asked. Then there was a pause. “Why, Rose Morningstar, is that really you?”
Daisy spit another hunk of mud and then swiped at her eyes. Which did almost nothing to remove the mud. She let out another groan of despair. This couldn’t be happening. Not only had Lord Price recognized her sister first but he’d not been aware he’d come to Scotland to visit her at all. He wasn’t searching for his lost love and now she was caked in mud for their reunion. Humiliation curled her shoulders even as tried uselessly to wipe her face again.
“I am,” Rose answered. “Or I was.” Rose’s voice grew higher and tighter with each word. “Daisy, are you quite all right?”
Suddenly, her face was covered again and she realized a large hand was swiping at the mud blocking her eyes. “I’m verra sorry, lass. I didna mean to let me horse knock ye down.”
She blinked open her eyes, now able to use them since he’d wiped away the worst of the mud. Daisy tried to decide whether she’d accept his apology or tell him to go to bloody hell. She looked up into his concerned eyes, mud dripping down her nose.
But before she could answer, Lord Price started talking again. “And to think, it’s been how many years? Four?”
“Three,” Rose answered stepping closer to Daisy. “We’ll bring you around back by the kitchen where they can pull the tub into the yard and get the worst of the mud off you before you go into the house.”
“Three years,” Lord Price continued. “Is that all? And here you ladies are, successful in Scotland. How did that come about?”
Daisy shook her hands, splattering mud as everyone but the hulking Scot took a step back. Really? He didn’t even know of her father’s death? Her near ruin? She could see his impeccable waistcoat and cravat from between her mud-covered lashes. She suddenly had the distinct urge to go up and hug him for their reunion. Maybe plant a giant muddy kiss on his cheek.
“Stories should likely wait,” the Scot answered. “Are ye hurt?”
She turned to look at him, starting to move several joints in her body, then winced in pain as she tested her shoulders. “The horse bumped my left arm, it’s a bit—” But before she could finish, he swept her into his rather strong arms.
“Lead the way and we’ll get her cleaned up,” he rumbled as Rose started moving down the drive to access the path the to the back of the house.
“Do ye need me?” Colin called from the left.
Daisy looked over the man’s shoulder as she settled into the hard heat of him. She had to admit, he felt quite good. She’d hardly been aware of how cold she was until he’d held her close with an effortlessness that left her breathless. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms about his neck, then realized she’d completely gotten him filthy.
“Greetings, Mr. McCreevy,” Rose called. “We’ll join you as soon as we can.”
“Are ye cold?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest and straight through her as her arms tightened about his neck.
He didn’t seem to notice the mud now dripping down the front of his coat. “Warmer now,” she answered, not sure what to say. She must look like an absolute fright. Not that she cared. Well, she’d cared a few moments ago when her meeting with Lord Price had been ruined. Not that Lord Price had any concern for her. Irritation prickled along her skin. “No thanks to you.”
He grimaced, his mouth turning down. “My apologies. Max is a good horse but high-spirited and a bit temperamental.”
She sniffed, and more mud slid up her nose making her choke again. In response, he pounded her back a second time as Rose disappeared into the kitchen, likely to order a bath. “If you knew that, why did you have the horse on such loose reins?”
His grimace turned into more of a scowl. “It’s my fault ye’ve got mice in yer house?”
She clucked her tongue. “It’s your fault your horse nearly killed me.”
“Ye’re a prickly one,” he stopped walking then, looking down into her face, “I take it.”
Her mouth fell open as she stared back. “Look at me. Who wouldn’t be prickly?”
* * *
Blake clenched his teeth. She had a point there.
But he also recognized her type. Just like Max, this woman was high-spirited. Beautiful, yes. She’d be another wild ride that would end just as badly. She was exactly like Ailish. He didn’t want any type of lady at this time, but he especially needed to stay away from temperamental beauties. “Of course ye’re right there. Again, I apologize fer Max knockin’ ye in the mud.”
She blinked her eyes, looking away as they reached the back door. Lady MacFarland poked her head out. “They’re heating the water now. I’ll get the tub.” Then she disappeared again.
He continued to hold Daisy. He should set her down but he was worried she’d grow colder, and honestly, the little chit felt nice in his arms. Light as feather, she fit against him like she was made to be there. “So ye’ve been in Scotland three years?”
She nodded, not looking at him. “That’s right.”
“What brought ye here?” He didn’t see the point in standing here silently since he’d committed to holding her.
She pressed her lips together holding in a sigh. “My father passed away. We came in search of my aunt who was the former lairdess.”
He quirked a brow. “Yer sister inherited the property?”
“That’s right,” Daisy answered, looking up at him.
He could see the clear blue of her eyes even through the mud, and for a moment, he stopped breathing. They were the color of the sky on a sunny day. “And then she married a ship captain that she made a laird?” MacFarland really was a lucky bastard if that was the case.
Daisy
