His Baby!. Sharon Kendrick

to survey their pints of beer. Outside, he strapped her into the big, dark green Bentley and got in beside her.

      He waited until the car had purred away before he barked out a question. ‘What happened?’ he demanded. ‘The truth, Daisy.’

      Daisy swallowed. ‘Mick had too much to drink, too quickly. He was showing off in front of his friends. He asked me to dance, and he ... he ...’

      ‘He what, Daisy?’ His voice sounded very urgent. ‘What exactly did he do?’

      ‘Touched me up a bit on the dance floor.’ It all sounded so tame in the telling. ‘It was nothing—really.’

      ‘Nothing?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘Nothing?’ His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he swore softly and extremely eloquently beneath his breath and Daisy was quite shocked; she’d never heard Matt swear before.

      He didn’t say another word to her all the way home, and when she risked a peep at his set profile it was hard, almost cruel, and unbelievably angry. She’d never seen him look so angry, either.

      Daisy felt like a complete fool. He had warned her, and she had ignored him, gone and worn something thoroughly unsuitable to a small village dance. She had dressed provocatively, but the provocation had all been for one man, and one man alone, she realised. The man who was sitting beside her. ‘Matt?’ she whispered tentatively, but he shook his head emphatically.

      ‘Not now, Daisy.’

      She bit her lip, praying that the journey would soon be over so that she could crawl away to bed like a beaten dog.

      As they crunched their way up the drive towards Hamilton Hall, she risked one more question. ‘Where’s Sophie?’

      His voice softened by a fraction. ‘Asleep. My mother promised to look in on her.’ The car drew up to a smooth halt and he came round to help her out. ‘Let’s go in by the back entrance,’ he said quietly. ‘My mother will only spend the night worrying if she sees you’ve been crying.’ He gave a bitter kind of smile. ‘I’ve never known you to cry before. It isn’t something you normally do, is it, Daisy?’