Rory burst into laughter. “Really?”
Unfortunately his hilarity startled Daisy, and she skipped away.
“Head her off!” Miss Farrar shouted from behind her.
He dived into Daisy’s path, but she easily avoided him. “She’s a slippery devil.”
“Sing to her. She likes that.”
He cast the madcap lassie a doubtful glance. “Not from what I can see.”
“Try.”
Miss Farrar looked enchanting. Cold air and exercise lent color to her cheeks and a shine to her eyes. No red-blooded male would miss how gracefully she moved after this she-demon disguised as a donkey.
“Another order.”
Miss Farrar forgot herself enough to growl. “Please.”
He hid a smile and joined her in the patriotic song. Miss Farrar had a pretty voice, a true soprano with a husky edge that heated his blood in defiance of the frigid air. Their voices mingled in a way he hoped foretold another harmonious joining in the future.
For several eventful minutes—Britannia became less robust by the second—they attempted to corner Daisy. But she was too clever to let them back her against the fence.
Pausing to catch his breath, Rory regarded the donkey with dislike. “She’s playing with us.”
“Of course she is.”
“I’ll buy you another donkey.”
“That’s silly.” Miss Farrar sent him the same impatient look he’d given the donkey. “It just takes persistence.”
“And singing.”
“And singing.”
“She doesn’t approve of my performance.”
“She’s just getting your measure.”
“I’ve got hers. And I don’t think we should unleash this ruffian on my village.”
He stopped, shocked. Well, what did you know? Every day since inheriting, he’d felt like an interloper. He’d never before referred to Penton Wyck as his. Perhaps, thanks to Miss Farrar, he became reconciled to this earl lark.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to let a mere domestic animal defeat you, my lord. Surely a pirate has more spirit.”
He really had to set Miss Farrar straight on the whole pirate thing. But before he could speak, Daisy made a sudden dash for the other end of the field. By the time he’d caught up with her, he had no breath for anything but muffled curses. This last month of living as a landlubber had made him soft.
“God rest ye merry, gentlemen,” Miss Farrar trilled, approaching Daisy with the halter hidden behind her back. Rory wasn’t convinced the singing had any effect on the evil beast, but while the song held her attention, he stealthily advanced from the other side. The donkey was closer to a corner than they’d yet managed. At the last minute, he spread his arms and gave a loud halloo. The donkey started and lost her bearings enough to back away.
“Well done, Lord Channing,” Miss Farrar said, then resumed singing as she closed in on the donkey crushed against the hedgerow. “Now sing.”
“Tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy.”
Daisy retreated.
Rory edged closer.
Daisy dodged, but he cut off her escape.