Read Online Scandal in Spring by Lisa Kleypas - Free Book Online Page B

of his lashes and the tiny fans of lines radiating from the outward corners of his eyes. She wanted to touch his face, to make him smile and feel the curve of his lips beneath her fingers.
    The silence lengthened, becoming strained and awkward until it was broken by the goose's imperious honk.
    Swift glanced at the massive bird. "You have a companion, I see." When Daisy explained what the two boys had been doing with the goose, Swift grinned. "Clever lads."
    The remark did not strike Daisy as being especially compassionate. "I want to help him," she said. "But when I tried to get near, he pecked me. I expected a domestic breed would have been a bit more receptive to my approach."
    "Greylags are not known for their mild temperaments," Swift informed her. "Particularly males. He was probably trying to show you who was boss."
    "He proved his point," Daisy said, rubbing her arm.
    Swift frowned as he saw the growing bruise on her arm. "Is that where he pecked you? Let me see."
    "No, it's all right— " she began, but he had already come forward. His long fingers encircled her wrist, the thumb of his other hand passing gently near the dark purple mark.
    "You bruise easily," he murmured, his dark head bent over her arm.
    Daisy's heart dispensed a series of hard thumps before settling into a fast rhythm. He smelled like the outdoors— sun, water, grassy-sweet. And deeper in the fragrance lingered the tantalizing incense of warm, sweaty male. She fought the instinct to move into his arms, against his body…to pull his hand to her breast. The mute craving shocked her.
    Glancing up at his downturned face, Daisy found his blue eyes staring right into hers. "I…" Nervously she pulled away from him. "What are we to do?"
    "About the goose?" His broad shoulders hitched in a shrug. "We could wring his neck and take him home for dinner."
    The suggestion caused Daisy and the Greylag to stare at him in shared outrage.
    "That was a very poor joke, Mr. Swift."
    "I wasn't joking."
    Daisy placed herself squarely between Swift and the goose. "I will deal with the situation on my own. You may leave now."
    "I wouldn't advise making a pet of him. You'll eventually find him on your plate if you stay at Stony Cross Park long enough."
    "I don't care if it makes me a hypocrite," she said. "I would rather not eat a goose I'm acquainted with."
    Though Swift did not crack a smile, Daisy sensed he was amused by her remark.
    "Philosophical questions aside," he said, "there's the practical matter of how you intend to free his leg. You'll get beaten black and blue for your pains."
    "If you would hold him still, I could reach for the spoon and— "
    "Not," Swift said firmly, "for all the tea in China."
    "That expression has never made sense to me," she told him. "In terms of total world production, India grows far more tea than China."
    Swift's lips twitched as he considered the point. "Since China is the leading international producer of hemp," he said, "I suppose one could say 'Not for all the hemp in China'…but it doesn't have the same ring. However you care to phrase it, I'm not going to help the goose." He bent to pick up his creel.
    "Please," Daisy said.
    Swift gave her a long-suffering look.
    "Please," she repeated.
    No gentleman could refuse a lady who had used the word twice.
    Muttering something indecipherable beneath his breath, Swift set the creel back down.
    A self-satisfied smile curved Daisy's lips. "Thank you."
    Her smile faded, however, when he warned, "You'll owe me for this."
    "Naturally," Daisy replied. "I would never expect you to do something for nothing."
    "And when I call in the favor, you're not even going to think of refusing, no matter what it is."
    "Within reason. I'm not going to agree to marry you just because you rescued a poor trapped goose."
    "Believe me," Swift said darkly, "marriage won't be any part of it." He began to remove his coat, having difficulty stripping the damp olive-colored tweed from his broad