The Rogue and His Flower (Princetown Heirs #2)

Chapter 19

DAISY

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Thank you for inviting me, Daisy,” Lia says with a wide grin, her fingers tracing over the wedding dresses hanging from the racks in this beautiful bridal shop just outside of Princetown.

Under different circumstances, Lia's happiness would be contagious. But right now, I can't seem to shake off the anxiety building up inside of me. This isn't about choosing a wedding dress to look beautiful for myself and the man I love; it's about picking out a dress for an arranged marriage to a man I used to despise, and now have complicated feelings for. To make matters worse, the ceremony will take place in a church filled with, for the most part, strangers I have no connection with and who’ve spent the best part of my life judging me for things that were not my fault.

“Of course, there’s no one else I’d rather have with me,” I reply, appreciating the exquisite selection of lace and silk gowns despite my inner turmoil.

“What about this one?” Lia asks, reaching for a stunning dress with layers of creamy chiffon making up the skirt and a bodice encrusted with tiny crystals.

“It’s lovely…” My voice trails off as I heave out a sigh.

“But?” she questions, tipping her head to the side as she waits.

“But it’s not really me,” I reply, puffing out my cheeks as I blow out a breath.

“Then we’ll keep looking. The perfect dress is just waiting for you to find it.”

“That might be true if this wasn’t all a charade,” I whisper, my eyes flicking to the assistant waiting patiently at the back of the store whilst I choose some dresses to try on. Lia nods in understanding as she gently places the dress back on the rack and turns to face me fully. Reaching for me, she clasps my hands in hers.

“There’s still time to change your mind, Daisy.”

I shake my head, keeping my voice to a whisper. “There’s a contract with my signature on it binding me to this agreement, and I’m not changing my mind.”

She gives me a soft smile, her eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and concern. “How are things with you and Dalton? Drix told me about what happened at Bandits Bar.”

“Well we’re no longer biting each other’s heads off, and slinging insults at one another every chance we get. Things are… better,” I say, struggling to find the right word to explain the shift in our relationship.

“Better is good,” she agrees.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” she queries, searching my gaze.

“Can we get out of here? I’m not really in the mood to pick out a wedding dress right now.”

“Of course we can. Do you want to arrange an appointment for another day?”

“Perhaps if we come back later? I could murder a cup of tea,” I offer, knowing that I must choose a dress today, given our wedding day is in just three weeks and the store needs time for any alterations needed.

“Sure let me just tell the assistant,” Lia replies.

Once we’re outside of the bridal shop, Lia links her arm with mine, offering her silent support as we search for a place to grab refreshments. Five minutes later we’re settling down at a corner table in a nearby cafe, with a pot of tea and a plate of freshly baked scones with jam and clotted cream in front of us.

“So things with Dalton are better?” she asks, picking up a scone and slicing it in half before spreading cream then jam across the surface of each half. She plops one half on my plate, whilst placing the other on hers.

“It is,” I nod, taking a sip of my tea.

“There’s a but in there somewhere,” she points out. “It might make you feel better if you talk about it?”

“After the evening at Bandits Bar when we watched Harlow sing, I told Dalton about what happened to me as a child,” I explain, resting my cup of tea back on the saucer.

“And how did he handle that?” Lia asks. She’s the only other person apart from Drix, and now Dalton, who knows the full details of my past.

“He was shocked at first, but then he listened to my story. There was no judgement at all, in fact he was kind. He offered to pay for therapy.”

“I’m glad,” she replies, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

“Then the next day he took me to the racetrack, introduced me to his friends and took me for a spin on his motorbike,” I say, avoiding the fact that I asked him to fuck me the night before that, and he’d refused, and the fact I came all over his motorbike seat.

Lia’s brows lift. “That sounds fun.”

“It was,” I admit. “Also, eye-opening.”

“How so?”

“Dalton seemed different at the track. At ease. Happy. His friends were welcoming, he was fun to be around.”

“You sound surprised,” she laughs.

“I guess I was,” I admit. “I enjoyed myself. I enjoyed his company, and it felt good. Then yesterday after we went to meet with the vicar at St Augustine’s church, we ended up watching Stardust at the cinema.”

“Dalton agreed to watch Stardust with you?” Lia chuckles. “Wow, that’s unexpected. I didn’t peg Dalton for a cinema-going type of guy.”

“Neither did I. He surprised me again…”

I shuffle in my seat, my body flushing with heat at the memory of his warm hand on my thigh, his nose pressed against the pulse in my neck and his lips hovering over mine. I’ve been thinking about that moment ever since it happened, about why he’d wanted to kiss me then, but hadn’t wanted to fuck me the night I asked him to.

“Surprised you how?” Lia asks, her brows lifting as she studies me.

“We almost kissed.”

“You almost kissed?”

“Yep,” I reply, wincing a little.

“And the fact Dalton tried to kiss you is a surprise?”

“No, the fact that he didn’t steal a kiss from me, was. The fact that I wanted him to kiss me was.”

Lia gives me a knowing look, her scone forgotten on her plate, and I’m reminded of our conversation back in the playground the other week.

“So you wanted him to kiss you?” she repeats.

“Everything just felt… right,” I confess, twirling my teaspoon nervously in my tea.

“So why didn’t you kiss?” she asks.

“Because…”

“Because?” she persists gently.

“Because I didn’t want to complicate our fledgling friendship.” A friendship that has been blurred by me coming on his motorbike.

“Things are already complicated, don’t you think?”

“You’ve no idea,” I admit, chewing on my lip.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she says, eying me.

“The night I told him about my parents and what happened to me as a child, I also asked him to sleep with me,” I blurt out.

Lia’s eyes widen. “Sleep with you or…”

“At first I just wanted comfort, but then I practically threw myself at him and he refused me. He said he didn’t want to take advantage whilst I was feeling vulnerable, and so he didn’t…”

“Sounds to me like he was being a gentleman, Daisy.”

“But then he wanted to kiss me at the cinema,” I add, frowning.

“You’d spent the day together having fun. You weren’t feeling vulnerable then, right?”

“Right,” I agree.

“So he didn’t want to sleep with you and take advantage of your emotional state at the time, but he wanted to kiss you when you were feeling better emotionally.”

“Yes…”

“So what’s the problem? You were both in a better place. He wanted to kiss you, you wanted to kiss him…”

I let out a sigh, trying to unravel that for myself. “It was easier when we hated each other. I knew where I stood then. I could pack this whole arrangement up into a neat little box, and shove it to the back of my mind so that I could get through this whole ordeal.”

“But feelings are creeping in?”

“For me, at least,” I admit, before rushing on. “It’s not as if I’m in love with him or anything…”

“There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that even if you were,” she says softly.

“I’m not,” I insist. “It’s just, there’s more to him than I originally thought, and maybe you were right about the attraction between us. The trouble is, I don’t know if any of it is real or not. I don’t know if he wants to kiss me to keep up the charade of us being in love, or if he’s so desperate for physical intimacy that I’m just another woman he can use like all the others?—”

“If he wanted to use you, then he would’ve taken you up on your offer when you asked him to sleep with you, Daisy,” she points out.

“I just don’t know if he truly likes me for me.”

“Okay, then ask yourself this, what if he does truly like you for you, what then? Would knowing that change things?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if I like him for who he is, or if I like the kindness he’s showing me, the attention, whether it’s honest or not. I’ve always desperately wanted to feel loved, and I have a tendency to overlook the worst in people. I’m worried that my own past has screwed with me so badly that I can’t trust what is real, and what is pretend, or even my own judgement for that matter.”

“Oh, Daisy, I can understand that. It’s difficult to unravel things, especially when it comes to matters of the heart, and especially when that heart has been so badly broken. Trust me, I know.”

“What should I do?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Daisy. Only you know that. What I will say is that when I met Drix I was terrified that he would end up being exactly like my ex, even though I knew deep down that he was nothing like him. It took almost losing what we had, and your honesty, to set me straight. I guess it all boils down to what you want.”

“I’m just so confused.”

“Do you want to explore a potential relationship with Dalton that’s more than being friends?”

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully.

“What do you know? I mean let's just lay it all out there. What thoughts come to mind when you think about Dalton. Forget the contract, the upcoming wedding, all of that complicated stuff. When you think about Dalton now, what do you know for certain?”

“That he loves to fuck,” I reply, laughing a little.

“Okay, that seems apparent given his history. What else?”

“That he has a strained relationship with his father.”

“Does anyone have a good relationship with that man?”

“True,” I reply.

“He loves to race. He comes alive on the track.”

“So he has an interest outside of being the heir to a billion pound fortune. That’s good.”

“He’s a huge flirt.”

“Again, goes without saying,” she says.

“He’s starting to become aware of other people’s feelings, my feelings.”

“Another positive,” Lia agrees.

“Dalton’s trying to be a better person. More thoughtful,” I say. “His refusal to sleep with me might’ve stung a little at the time, but now that I think about it, I truly appreciate that he hadn’t.”

“Being thoughtful is important,” she murmurs.

“He stuck up for me when his dad was being an arse about the clothes I choose to wear.”

“That couldn’t have been easy given his dad is the biggest arsehole on this planet, and incredibly overbearing,” Lia says, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the thought of Carl Gunn. “But I’m glad he stuck up for you,”

“He didn’t kiss me at the cinema even though I knew he really wanted to,” I continue softly. “He could’ve just taken what he wanted, but once again, he didn’t.”

He gave me an orgasm without wanting anything back, I think, not quite ready to let that little secret out of the bag.

“That’s an improvement for sure. Anything else?”

“He’s ridiculously good looking,” I add with a shrug.

“You’ve only just noticed?” she asks with a smile.

“Oh, I noticed, I was just never attracted to him because he was such an egotistical arse before.”

“But he’s not anymore…?”

“Not lately. No,” I admit.

“And you admit you’re attracted to him,” she queries.

“Yes, I am.”

Lia nods thoughtfully, taking in all the information I've shared about Dalton. After a moment of silence, she speaks softly.

"It sounds like Dalton is trying to show you a different side of himself, a side that perhaps you never expected to see. It's understandable that you're feeling conflicted, especially given your past experiences with him and his reputation, but I think it’s worth giving him a chance to prove that he's sincere in his efforts to be a better person.”

I consider Lia's words carefully. Despite my reservations and uncertainties, there's a part of me that wants to believe that he’s truly capable of being more than the shallow playboy I once thought him to be.

Taking a deep breath, I look at Lia and say, "I think... I think I want to see if there's something genuine between us, but I’m terrified of opening myself up to the possibility of getting hurt."

Lia's kind smile is filled with encouragement and empathy. "It takes bravery to be vulnerable, Daisy. It’s scary too, but sometimes that vulnerability can lead to surprising and wonderful results.”

“So what now?”

“Well, right now we eat these delicious scones, drink this tea, and then you’ll choose a wedding dress. And after that, I guess it’s up to you.”

By the time I’ve chosen a wedding dress that I’m comfortable wearing, and spent the rest of the afternoon catching up with Drix and Toby, it’s past the time I usually sit down to eat dinner with Dalton and Carl. When I arrive back at the estate, rather than go in search of Dalton, I head to my bedroom still ruminating on my conversation with Lia.

Shrugging off my coat, and kicking off my shoes, I sit down at my desk and pull open my sketchbook, needing a distraction. Designing clothes has always helped to soothe my heart and calm my anxiety, and before long a stunning rainbow coloured dress has come to life before me. The colours are muted, but nonetheless striking. Pale pink, baby blue, soft yellow, subtle green and muted lilac swirl together in delicate layers of tulle and chiffon, creating a gown fit for a fairytale princess. As I add intricate beading to the bodice, my mind drifts back to Dalton and our future together. Would he appreciate the effort and creativity I’ve poured into this dress? Would he even notice the subtle symbolism of the colours representing hope, trust, happiness and new beginnings? Lost in thought, I don’t hear the door creak open behind me until a voice breaks through my reverie.

“That’s beautiful,” Dalton says quietly, his eyes fixed on the sketch before me.

Startled, I glance up to find him standing behind me, his expression a mix of awe and curiosity. I quickly close the sketchbook, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

“Oh, um, it’s nothing. I was just doodling,” I mutter, a flutter of nerves in my stomach at his sudden appearance. “Was there something you needed?”

“I thought I’d check in on you, see how your day went,” he explains, his gaze lingering on the closed sketchbook. “But now I’m intrigued. May I take a look?”

“Sure,” I say, passing the sketchbook to him.

He flips through the pages filled with my designs, his proximity sending a wave of warmth through me, and I struggle to focus on anything other than the way his presence fills the room.

“You’re incredibly talented, Daisy,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the delicate lines of my sketches.

I feel a rush of warmth at his praise. “Thank you. Sketching designs help me to relax. I lost track of time.”

“You need to relax? Did the wedding dress shopping not go well?”

“It was fine. I found something suitable to wear.”

“Suitable?” he queries, passing my sketchbook back to me.

I slide it back in the top drawer of my desk. “It’s not my dream dress, but it will work for the occasion,” I reply.

“I see,” he says, frowning.

“So, how was your day?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Pretty fucking awful,” he replies, his gaze lingering on me as if searching for something in my expression.

“That bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t the best,” Dalton admits, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. “I was going to call it a night, but if you’d like some company, we could watch some trash TV if you’d like?”

“You know what, I’m feeling a little tired myself. I was going to get an early night too.”

He presses his mouth shut in a firm line, nodding. “Well, then I’ll let you get some rest,” he says.

I watch him walk towards my door, and for the life of me, I don’t want him to leave. “Dalton, wait,” I say, following him.

“Yes?” he questions, turning to face me.

“I know I said that I wanted to forget what happened at the cinema and at the racetrack, but I…” My voice trails off as I chew on my lip.

“But?” he asks, taking a step towards me.

“But I haven’t been able to do that,” I admit.

“Me either,” he replies, taking a step closer to me. “So what now?”

“This is probably a very stupid idea,” I mumble.

“What’s a stupid idea, watching trash TV? I mean, we’ll probably lose a few brain cells in the process, but I’m still down for it, if you are?” he blurts out, and I can’t help but notice his sudden nervousness. I shake my head, resting my hand against his chest.

“I was referring to the kiss… I mean the kiss that didn’t happen.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No, I want you to kiss me,” I whisper, my breath hitching as I look up at him.

“You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?” he asks. There’s longing and uncertainty in his gaze, something I feel just as powerfully.

“I’m not certain of anything, all I know is that I wanted you to kiss me in the cinema, and I want you to kiss me now,” I say.

He nods, reaching up, his thumb tracing over my lips as he leans in slowly, giving me the chance to pull away if I want to.

But I don’t.

I stay rooted to the spot, my heart pounding as his palm slides down my throat, gently cupping my neck as his lips meet mine in a soft, hesitant caress. Neither of us deepen the kiss, both uncertain of what this means, and despite asking him to kiss me, I realise that he won’t truly do that unless I drop my barriers first.

“Daisy,” he mutters, both hands on my hips now, his fingers flexing over my hips, as though he’s battling with holding on and letting go.

Parting my lips on a soft exhale, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, trying to erase the distance between us, and then he slides his tongue between my lips, and kisses me. I could be glaringly wrong about what’s unfolding between us, but in this moment, right here and now, there is no past, no future, only the present.

Our tongues dance against each other’s, teasing, tasting, stroking and licking. It’s a searching kiss, exploratory, intimate, knee-shakingly perfect. He tastes of coffee and liquor, of frightening possibilities and unspoken desires. Every nerve ending in my body is alight, prickling with awareness, yet my mind is blissfully blank, consumed by the sensation of him, this moment, our kiss. He groans, his fingers digging into my skin as we stumble backwards until my back is pressed against the wall and his body is crowding mine. Heat licks over my skin as his tongue twines with mine and I can feel the undeniable ridge of his erection pressing against my stomach.

A kiss that began soft and tentative soon turns into passionate and raw, the shifting tides of our desire washing over the both of us, pulling us under.

I’m drowning in his embrace, overwhelmed by his commanding kiss, I’m weakened by it, helpless.

We… should… stop…

Those words are like shards of painful consciousness stabbing against my mind.

We. Should. Stop.

Stab. Stab. Stab.

This has gone too far.

I stiffen, chest heaving, my clit aching to be touched, my body alive and desperate for more. But this kiss is too potent, too overwhelming, and for the sake of my sanity and his, I rest my hands against his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath my palm, then push against him.

“No more,” I say, as firmly as I can muster. His lips part, his eyes snapping open as his chest heaves.

“Damn!” he mutters, still holding onto me, still caught up in the eddying attraction connecting us.

“No more, please,” I beg this time, needing him to step back, to give us both space.

Dalton grits his jaw and with one firm nod of his head, releases me. Stepping back, he swipes a trembling hand through his hair.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, eyes wild as a range of emotions scatter across his face.

“It was just a kiss,” I whisper, knowing I’m lying, wondering why I am.

“It was more than a kiss, Daisy,” he counters, exhaling heavily.

And he’s right, because it wasn't just a kiss. He didn’t steal it, we didn’t kiss for show, we kissed because we wanted to, and that changes things. How stupidly foolish was I to think that giving in would lead to anything other than messy, complicated, heartache? Kissing is a prelude to something deeper, a taste of how good sex with Dalton could be. It’s a stark reminder of the stipulations detailed in our contract, and everything I said I didn’t want.

Except now? Now, I want more.