Daisy went to the hearth, touching the small frames and figures on the mantel. His grandfather used to whittle dogs. Three sat there in various positions, sniffing, pointing their nose, and howling at the sky.
“Is this you and Amelia?” Daisy asked.
Sam walked to where she stood. He waited for the weakness, the dizziness, for the reminder that he was ill and injured, but it didn’t come. Today was the first day he felt well.
Daisy looked back and smiled at him, pointing to the small painting of him and Amelia as infants, held in his father’s arms.
Daisy grinned at it, touching the gold frame lightly with her fingertip. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d set eyes on that picture. Perhaps not since his father died. He had known this room was cared for, in preparation for him and out of love and loyalty for his father, but he’d never been able to step foot in here until this moment.
And Daisy stood with him. Like she belonged here. His father would have adored Daisy—it was impossible not to—and she just fit. A bright gem in the warm muted colors of the browns and creams.
The urge to kiss her overwhelmed him and he had no reason to fight it. Or rather, he stubbornly refused to.
He cupped the back of her neck and turned her toward him. She startled in surprise when he touched her, but her smile never faltered. She trusted him that much? She shouldn’t—his mood was dark, needy, and he didn’t give a damn about all the reasons he shouldn’t kiss her anymore.
Her eyes lifted to his as he drew her closer, tipping her head back to hold his gaze. Only at the last second did her smile wobble. Her eyes widened slightly, and she sucked in a breath before his lips touched hers.
Daisy melted into him, proving to him once more how right she was for him. Her mouth opened without question, and he took and took and took. Every thought about his life and the bleak future he didn’t want slipped away under a tide of ardent need. He knew that this kiss would be the beginning of something fiery and passionate.
Sam was no saint, but his seduction of Daisy would earn him a special seat beside the devil. Because in doing so, he was breaking the contract. He was throwing his honor aside and claiming what he wanted.
Daisy.
Sweet, delectable, Daisy. She was all that he needed. This wasn’t just want. No, this was aneed.
Holding her neck with one hand, he sent the other gliding down the back of her dress, over the curve of her hip and bringing her tightly against him where he was already hard. This time he’d let her feel it. With their height difference, her skirts would not disguise the ridge of his arousal. She’d feel it against her lower belly, and he was animal enough to enjoy that fact. She did not squirm away, but she did lose her concentration. Sam grinned into the kiss as he devoured her mouth. Her hands floated over his shoulders, but less confident than before, and hewould not tolerate that. He broke the kiss and panted into her hair.
“Daisy,” he said, his voice ravaged with need. He wanted to sink into the warmth of her body. Under his hand her hips were soft and round. She looked innocent, but that was only because she’d been stifled. She was all woman, and her body was made for him to worship.
“Sam, you said we shouldn’t . . .”
“I was wrong.” He looked down at her, her rosy, wet lips calling to him.
“Wrong about what?”
“This, us. You. I thought that denying myself was somehow the right thing to do, but I’m not even sure what that is anymore. Or maybe I don’t care what is right or wrong when it comes to you. I just need you.”
“Sam... are you feeling all right?” She touched a hand to his forehead and Sam moved it to cup around his neck. That’s where it belonged, and he wouldn’t deny himself anymore. He’d had everything taken from him and he was in no mood to sacrifice anything else. He was going to take from now on. Take his life back, his control, his desires.
“Daisy, tell me honestly how you feel about me. Not as your brother’s friend, or Amelia’s brother, but me. Why do you submit to my touches, my kisses, why do you laugh at my insufferable humor, why do you look at me like you want me? I need to know.”
“Sam,” she said in a whisper, “I don’t know what to say. I... I don’t know if I can explain it.”
“Please try. Because if you don’t feel the way I do, then I’d have to let you go, and if I do that, I think it might just kill me.”
Her eyes searched his, and he prayed he hadn’t frightened her. She was not used to men like him, to emotions like this that battered the body physically and emotionally.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” she whispered. “I want you to touch me, kiss me, all those things. I look at you because I want you. I can’t stop it. I shouldn’t feel this way, I know.”
He dipped his head and kissed her again. He didn’t need to hear more. That was enough for now.
There was a scuff and then a creak in the hall.
Sam lifted his mouth from hers. “Bollocks.”
She covered her mouth. Voices followed, first Petrov, then Mr. Chase.
Sam set her back from him. He turned her and nudged her down into a wingback chair by the hearth, then he sank into the other.
