Scandal in Spring
Page 6
“You’re going to fall into the well. Come with me.”
His grip was gentle but relentless as he drew her several yards away from the bubbling water. Annoyed at being herded like a stray goose from a gaggle, Daisy tensed against his grasp. Some things, she thought darkly, had not changed. Matthew Swift was as domineering as ever.
She couldn’t stop staring at him. Good Lord, she had never seen such a transformation in her life. The former “bag of bones,” as Lillian had described him, had filled out into a large, prosperous-looking man, radiating health and vigor. He was dressed in an elegant suit of clothes, more loosely tailored than the tight-fitting men’s styles of the past. Even so, the easy drape of fabric did not obscure the powerful musculature beneath.
The differences in him were more than physical. Maturity had brought with it an air of blatant self-confidence, the look of a man who knew himself and his abilities. Daisy remembered when he had first come to work for her father…he had been a scrawny, cold-eyed opportunist in expensive but ill-fitting garments and dilapidated shoes.
“That’s old Boston for you,” her father had said indulgently when the ancient shoes had caused comment among the family. “They make a pair of shoes or a coat last forever. Economy is a religion to them no matter how great the family fortune.”
Daisy pulled away from Swift’s grasp. “You’ve changed,” she said, trying to collect herself.
“You haven’t,” he replied. It was impossible to tell whether the remark was intended as compliment or criticism. “What were you doing at the well?”
“I was…I thought…” Daisy searched in vain for a sensible explanation, but could think of nothing. “It’s a wishing well.”
His expression was solemn, but there was a suspicious flicker in his vivid blue eyes as if he were secretly amused. “You have this on good authority, I take it?”
“Everyone in the local village visits it,” Daisy replied testily. “It’s a legendary wishing well.”
He was staring at her the way she had always hated, absorbing everything, no detail escaping his notice. Daisy felt her cheeks turn blood-hot beneath his scrutiny. “What did you wish for?” he asked.
“That’s private.”
“Knowing you,” he said, “it could be anything.”
“You don’t know me,” Daisy shot back. The idea that her father would give her over to a man who was so wrong for her in every way…it was madness. Marriage with him would be a businesslike exchange of money and obligations. Of disappointment and mutual contempt. And it was certain that he was no more attracted to her than she was to him. He would never marry a girl like her if not for the lure of her father’s company.
“Perhaps not,” Swift conceded. But the words rang false. He thought he knew exactly who and what she was. Their gazes met, measuring and challenging.
“In light of the well’s legendary status,” Swift said, “I’d hate to overlook a good opportunity.” He reached into a pocket, rummaged briefly and pulled out a large silver coin. It had been forever since Daisy had seen American money.
“You’re supposed to throw in a pin,” she said.
“I don’t have a pin.”
“That’s a five-dollar piece,” Daisy said in disbelief. “You’re not going to throw that away, are you?”
“I’m not throwing it away. I’m making an investment. You’d better tell me the proper procedure for making wishes—it’s a lot of money to waste.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“I’m in deadly earnest. And since I’ve never done this before, some advice would be welcome.” He waited for her reply, and when it became evident that none was forthcoming, a touch of humor lurked in one corner of his mouth. “I’m going to toss the coin in regardless.”
Daisy cursed herself. Even though it was obvious he was mocking her, she could not resist. A wish was not something that should be wasted, especially a five-dollar wish. Drat!
She approached the well and said curtly, “First hold the coin in your palm until it’s warm from your hand.”
Swift came to stand beside her. “And then?”
“Close your eyes and concentrate on the thing you want most.” She let a scornful note enter her voice. “And it has to be a personal wish. It can’t be about something like mergers or banking trusts.”
“I do think about things other than business affairs.”
Daisy gave him a skeptical glance, and he astonished her with a brief smile.
Had she ever seen him smile before? Perhaps once or twice. She had a vague past memory of such an occasion, when his face had been so gaunt that all she had received was an impression of white teeth fixed in a grimace that owed little to any feeling of good cheer. But this smile was just a bit off-center, which made it disarming and tantalizing…a flash of warmth that made her wonder exactly what kind of man lurked behind his sober exterior.
Daisy was profoundly relieved when the smile disappeared and he was back to his usual stone-faced self. “Close your eyes,” she reminded him. “Put everything out of your mind except the wish.”
His heavy lashes fell shut, giving her the chance to stare at him without having him stare back. It was not the sort of face a boy could wear comfortably…the features were too strong-boned, the nose too long, the jaw obstinate.
His grip was gentle but relentless as he drew her several yards away from the bubbling water. Annoyed at being herded like a stray goose from a gaggle, Daisy tensed against his grasp. Some things, she thought darkly, had not changed. Matthew Swift was as domineering as ever.
She couldn’t stop staring at him. Good Lord, she had never seen such a transformation in her life. The former “bag of bones,” as Lillian had described him, had filled out into a large, prosperous-looking man, radiating health and vigor. He was dressed in an elegant suit of clothes, more loosely tailored than the tight-fitting men’s styles of the past. Even so, the easy drape of fabric did not obscure the powerful musculature beneath.
The differences in him were more than physical. Maturity had brought with it an air of blatant self-confidence, the look of a man who knew himself and his abilities. Daisy remembered when he had first come to work for her father…he had been a scrawny, cold-eyed opportunist in expensive but ill-fitting garments and dilapidated shoes.
“That’s old Boston for you,” her father had said indulgently when the ancient shoes had caused comment among the family. “They make a pair of shoes or a coat last forever. Economy is a religion to them no matter how great the family fortune.”
Daisy pulled away from Swift’s grasp. “You’ve changed,” she said, trying to collect herself.
“You haven’t,” he replied. It was impossible to tell whether the remark was intended as compliment or criticism. “What were you doing at the well?”
“I was…I thought…” Daisy searched in vain for a sensible explanation, but could think of nothing. “It’s a wishing well.”
His expression was solemn, but there was a suspicious flicker in his vivid blue eyes as if he were secretly amused. “You have this on good authority, I take it?”
“Everyone in the local village visits it,” Daisy replied testily. “It’s a legendary wishing well.”
He was staring at her the way she had always hated, absorbing everything, no detail escaping his notice. Daisy felt her cheeks turn blood-hot beneath his scrutiny. “What did you wish for?” he asked.
“That’s private.”
“Knowing you,” he said, “it could be anything.”
“You don’t know me,” Daisy shot back. The idea that her father would give her over to a man who was so wrong for her in every way…it was madness. Marriage with him would be a businesslike exchange of money and obligations. Of disappointment and mutual contempt. And it was certain that he was no more attracted to her than she was to him. He would never marry a girl like her if not for the lure of her father’s company.
“Perhaps not,” Swift conceded. But the words rang false. He thought he knew exactly who and what she was. Their gazes met, measuring and challenging.
“In light of the well’s legendary status,” Swift said, “I’d hate to overlook a good opportunity.” He reached into a pocket, rummaged briefly and pulled out a large silver coin. It had been forever since Daisy had seen American money.
“You’re supposed to throw in a pin,” she said.
“I don’t have a pin.”
“That’s a five-dollar piece,” Daisy said in disbelief. “You’re not going to throw that away, are you?”
“I’m not throwing it away. I’m making an investment. You’d better tell me the proper procedure for making wishes—it’s a lot of money to waste.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“I’m in deadly earnest. And since I’ve never done this before, some advice would be welcome.” He waited for her reply, and when it became evident that none was forthcoming, a touch of humor lurked in one corner of his mouth. “I’m going to toss the coin in regardless.”
Daisy cursed herself. Even though it was obvious he was mocking her, she could not resist. A wish was not something that should be wasted, especially a five-dollar wish. Drat!
She approached the well and said curtly, “First hold the coin in your palm until it’s warm from your hand.”
Swift came to stand beside her. “And then?”
“Close your eyes and concentrate on the thing you want most.” She let a scornful note enter her voice. “And it has to be a personal wish. It can’t be about something like mergers or banking trusts.”
“I do think about things other than business affairs.”
Daisy gave him a skeptical glance, and he astonished her with a brief smile.
Had she ever seen him smile before? Perhaps once or twice. She had a vague past memory of such an occasion, when his face had been so gaunt that all she had received was an impression of white teeth fixed in a grimace that owed little to any feeling of good cheer. But this smile was just a bit off-center, which made it disarming and tantalizing…a flash of warmth that made her wonder exactly what kind of man lurked behind his sober exterior.
Daisy was profoundly relieved when the smile disappeared and he was back to his usual stone-faced self. “Close your eyes,” she reminded him. “Put everything out of your mind except the wish.”
His heavy lashes fell shut, giving her the chance to stare at him without having him stare back. It was not the sort of face a boy could wear comfortably…the features were too strong-boned, the nose too long, the jaw obstinate.
