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She shook her head, too hurt by his response to speak.
‘I’d be open game. For every paparazzi or blogger or tabloid journalist. They could rake over my life with absolute impunity—and now your life too! Why would I want that? Why would you want that?’
Daisy could feel tears battling to escape and blinked them back. No emotion, that was the deal. And that included hurt. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his contempt stung. But nor would she let him dismiss her. ‘You need to make Hawksley pay and you said yourself land subsidies and a wedding every weekend won’t do it. Besides, you write books—popular history books, not dull academic tomes. You don’t mind the publicity for those.’
He paused and ran his hands through his hair. ‘That’s different.’
‘Why?’
The question hung there.
She pressed on. ‘Your books win prizes, have posters advertising them in bookshops, I’ve even seen adverts on bus shelters and billboards! You read in public, sign in public, give public lectures. How is that different from a TV series?’
At first she had sounded diffident, unsure of her argument but as she spoke Seb could hear the conviction in her voice. And he had to admit she was making sense. Unwelcome sense but still.
He fixed his eyes on her face, trying to read her. Every day he found out more about her; every day she surprised him. He had thought she was utterly transparent; sweet, a little flaky maybe, desirable sure but not a challenge. But there were hidden depths to Daisy Huntingdon-Cross. Depths he was only just beginning to discover.
‘My books are educational.’ He cringed inwardly at the pompous words.
She wasn’t giving in. ‘So is television, done right. More so, you would reach a far bigger audience, teach far more people, inspire more people. I’m not suggesting you pimp yourself on social media—though some historians do and they do it brilliantly. I’m not suggesting reality TV or magazine photoshoots. I’m talking about you, doing what you do anyway.’
Reach more people. Wasn’t that his goal? He sighed. ‘I didn’t plan this.’ Seb put down the pile of still-unopened post and wandered over to the window, staring out. ‘I didn’t think I’d write anything but articles for obscure journals and the kind of books only my peers would read. That’s how I started. That’s how academic reputations are made.’
‘So what changed?’
‘I got offered a book deal. It was luck really, an ex-student of mine went into publishing and the editor she was working for wanted a new popular history series. Stacey thought of me and set up a meeting.’
‘She wouldn’t have thought of you if you hadn’t been an inspiring teacher. Not so much luck, more serendipity.’ Daisy walked across the room and stood next to him. Without conscious intention he put his hand out and took hers, drawing her in close. Her hand was warm and yielding.
‘Maybe.’
‘It’s just a suggestion, Seb. I know how you feel about courting publicity, I really do. But Dad always says that if you keep your head down and your life clean they’ll lose interest. And he’s right—just look at my parents. They were wild in their youth, real headline creators just like yours were. The difference is they settled down. They don’t sleep around or take drugs or act like divas. They work hard and live quietly—in a crazy, luxurious bubble admittedly! But that’s what we’ve agreed, isn’t it? Quiet, discreet lives. If we live like that then there really is nothing to fear.’
Seb inhaled slowly, taking in her calm, reasonable words. Slowly he moved behind her, slipping an arm around her waist to rest on her still-flat stomach. ‘They came after you though.’ His voice was hoarse.
‘We’ll just teach the baby not to go out and get drunk in the middle of London when he or she is sixteen. And if it gets my beauty and your brains we should be okay as far as schooling goes.’
‘The other way round works just as well. Stop putting yourself down, Daisy. Academic qualifications are meaningless. I think you might be one of the smartest people I know.’
Her hand came down to cover his, a slight tremor in the fingers grasping his. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.’
‘I mean it.’ The air around them had thickened, the usual smells he associated with his office, paper, leather and old stone, replaced by her light floral scent: sweet with richer undertones just like its wearer. Desire flooded him and he moved his other hand to her waist, caressing the subtle curve as he followed the line down to her hip.
Seb had no idea how this marriage was going to work in many ways but this he had no qualms about. They had been brought together by attraction and so far it continued to burn hot and deep. He leant forward, inhaling her as he ran a tongue over her soft earlobe, biting down gently as she moaned.
