“Even if I don’t like it, you’re right. I know that this shouldn’t happen again.”
He sighed heavily. “I’m still honored to be your first kiss, Daisy. I want you to know that. But we cannot let this change what we are. Don’t run and hide from me. We’ll behave as we did before.”
Daisy didn’t believe that for one moment, but if he could pretend, so could she. She’d got what she’d wanted. But once would never be enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Two days passedand Sam could now stride the length of his room with a cane. His legs were tired, but he felt better every day. Daisy still came by frequently, helping him stroll around the room, and keeping his mind occupied with memories of their kiss. He knew she was thinking about it too. He’d catch her staring at him, her eyes unfocused, sucking on her bottom lip, and he’d have to turn away and silence a groan. He needed a change of scenery to stave off this unrelenting wave of lust. That kiss had done more harm than good for both of them. It haunted him, day and night, clinging to his thoughts. No woman had ever left him this enthralled.
But Daisy wasn’t just any woman. She was temptation. Risk. Life. He didn’t realize how little he’d enjoyed being alive since waking up from his injury until she’d walked into his room. Anger and restlessness had consumed him. But then there she was, casting away the shadows with her smile, her vivid eyes. He understood now why Hades dragged Persephone to the underworld and refused to let her go.
And now that they’d kissed, the claws of his infatuation had sunk deeper. He wanted something that could not be his, and it pushed him beyond reason. What was he willing to do to keepher? How desperate had he become? Would this all-consuming desire ever come to an end? Was he debilitatingly hungry for her because of his having been near death? Or was this just a symptom of his boredom and dissatisfaction? Those were the thoughts that made him stay his hand. As much as he wanted to push that boundary and give in to his need for her, he reigned it back with just as much force. She was not a woman of experience. Every kiss shared would only make her think that they could have a future together, and that was impossible.
Today, Amelia agreed to let Sam meet with his new man of business. Mr. Jergen had been writing relentlessly, asking to meet with Sam, and finally, she had given in. Sam was fully dressed now and pacing his room.
“You should be sitting,” Amelia said.
“I should be taking this meeting in my study. I should have had this meeting two weeks ago.”
“You could barely stand two weeks ago. Answering letters left you exhausted.”
Sam marshalled his anger. As he had begun to feel better, it became harder and harder to remember to disguise it. “I know. But I can’t be expected to improve without effort. You have to allow it.”
She fisted her hands at her side. “Samuel Everett Clark. I watched you die. I watched the color leach from your body. I can barely stand to look at your bed because—” She stopped and shook her head angrily at him.
Sam knew she was holding back a litany of insults and emotion. Amelia couldn’t seem to let go of the idea he could die at any moment. And Sam could see why. Which was all the more reason Sam needed to get back to his living his life, even if he still needed to modify what that looked like as he hid the speed of his recovery. In truth, they all needed to get out of this house—hell, out of this room.
He might finally move himself to the master suite after this was all said and done. If not sooner. Maybe today? He considered the thought. He’d always left it the way his father had kept it. It was regularly cleaned, his watches, cufflinks, cravat pins, still there in the dressing room. But now, perhaps it was time.
“Petrov,” Sam said. “I’d like to move to the master’s suite today.” Amelia unclenched her hands. “We both must move on from this, Lia. I can’t live another day in this room. I almost died here, and I’m tired of being reminded of that fact every day.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be stronger.”
He approached her and took her hands. “You’re the strongest woman I know, and I am proud to be your brother. But we have to let go of this fear. You keep looking at me like I’m a ghost. Like as soon as I leave this room I’ll disappear. But I won’t. I’m still here and I’m alive because of you.”
He pulled her into his chest, and she wiped at a stray tear. He patted her back until she pulled away. Petrov handed her a handkerchief. Sam let her go and Blakewood entered, followed by an older, bald man.
“Is everything all right?” Blakewood asked as he put a hand on Amelia’s lower back.
“It’s fine,” she said. “But I won’t be staying for this. Excuse me.”
Blakewood looked after her and then turned to Sam. “Do you want me to stay or go?”
“You can stay,” Sam said. “Mr. Jergen, I presume?”
The bald man nodded. “Yes, my lord. I see you are indeed alive.”
“As alive as I can be,” Sam returned. “Have a seat.”
The table had been moved away from the bed, sitting before the windows with the curtains opened and fresh spring sunshinespilling into the room, the breeze filling the air with the scent of a few early roses.
“We have much to discuss. Did you receive my letters? I had hoped to meet with you much sooner. Though I must say Mr. Blakewood has been a great deal of help in getting your records and the like from Mr. Crest. Mr. Crest seems to believe you are deceased.”
Sam barked out a laugh, then grabbed his side with a curse. His rib apparently took offense to the levity. It was getting better, but sudden movements still punched like the devil.
“My lord?” Mr. Jergen asked in concern.
“I have a broken rib that is still mending. Hardly life threatening, though it takes a bloody long time to heal. As for Mr. Crest, he was dismissed by my sister and refused entry into the house. He was being influenced by my cousin Nelson, my current heir. Lady Amelia rightly thought him to be disloyal. Even now she is still protective regarding who is allowed to enter.”
