“My rib was being bothersome, but it’s my pride that took the greatest hit.”
“Oh... Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Daisy bit her cheek. He wouldn’t share his troubles with her.
“I just want to look at you. I’m not even hungry.”
Neither was she. Her nerves had quickly knotted themselves inside her stomach and her head throbbed with an anxious headache. “I’m not either.”
He frowned. “If you eat, I’ll eat.”
Daisy reached for his hand. “Agreed.”
He wove his fingers through hers and didn’t pull away as the footman brought out their meal. Tonight’s supper was catered for warmth and comfort. A thick stew and warm rolls graced the table, along with butter molded into a fish.
Sam sliced off the head and spread the gob on his split roll. Then he dipped it in the broth of his stew and took a bite.
“If my mother saw such a thing, she’d faint,” Daisy said.
“I know how to behave in front of your mother. This magnificent example of manners is just for you, Daisy. Never forget, I’m a beast, and I like to toy with my food before I eat it.”
Daisy flushed. “Well, it does look appetizing.” She tore her roll in half, swiped it with a small fin of butter and dipped it in her stew. She took a bite, and soggy roll, salted butter, and savory juices filled her mouth. She wanted to moan but didn’t. A dribble of broth slipped down her chin and she might have beenembarrassed had Sam not been watching her eat with a different sort of hunger in his eyes. He swiped at the droplet and sucked it off his thumb.
Daisy clamped her thighs together. Their meal passed in growing anticipation as their charged silence built. They watched each other, touched each other, gentle touches with fingers and hands or his hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze. She’d occasionally dab at his mouth with her napkin, and by the time their plates were taken away, she was nearly in his lap, leaning over the table, his chair angled toward hers and his leg pressed against hers.
Daisy was burning with a fever only he could break.
“Come,” he said as he pulled her to her feet.
“Where? Don’t you need to leave soon?”
“I need a kiss for good luck first. How about in our favorite chair?”
Our chair?
Daisy blushed as she let him tug her into the drawing room. He closed the door and the lock snicked. She widened her eyes at his back, though she suspected even with an unlocked door, the staff knew not to interrupt their lord. How, she didn’t want to know, but they always conveniently disappeared.
Sam spun to face her, framed her face with his hands, and then he was on her. His tongue slipped into her mouth because she was already waiting to give him anything he wanted. He scooped her under legs without breaking the kiss and carried her toward the hearth that popped merrily, driving away the chill. Instead of sitting, he lowered her over the arm of the chair.
“Sam, your rib!” She belatedly remembered.
“I bound it up tightly and used some of the ointment Dr. Bradley left me. It’s manageable for now.”
“What happened earlier?” Daisy asked. She needed to know why he would be in enough pain to require such measures.
“Chase threw a jab at me, forcing me to react and helping me remember that I’m still weak and pathetic.”
“He hit you?”
“No, he tried to hit me. He missed. But his aim wasn’t to hit me.” He scowled. “I don’t think.”
Daisy stared at him in disbelief as he came to kneel in front of her. “Why would he do that?”
“To prove I needed his help.”
“To do what?” She chastised herself inwardly. She’d resigned herself to not asking, and yet here she was, doing that very thing. But her worry was eating her alive.
