“I heard your cry for help,” Warwick said, remembering how that had made him feel. He’d have done anything in that moment to reach her.
CHAPTERFOUR
“I’m so glad you did hear me, as I had no idea how I would have gotten off the boat without you, Warwick. But I’m sorry to have upset you,” Samantha said.
She hadn’t seen him in over a year. A year when she’d missed her family so desperately she had thought she would have to return home. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d stayed, learned, and grown. Not only had she studied art, but she’d found the resilience to exist without the warm blanket of love and support she’d left behind in London. A year wasn’t a large amount of time when she thought about the lifetime she’d already lived and had yet to live, but it had felt like it.
“Come and sit, Warwick. You must be hungry after your endeavors on my behalf today.”
Should she tell him about the letter?
Just thinking about what was written on that page terrified her.
“That’s a fierce look. Care to share what put it there?”
He took the seat beside hers and Samantha wondered why suddenly she felt shy around this man, who she’d known most of her life? Why she seemed more aware of him. But then he had just seen her naked.
“No.”
“You know you can’t hide anything worth a damn, Samantha. So, you may as well tell me.”
“I have nothing to say.”
She didn’t know how the owner of that letter had found her in Ireland, but they had. Three days before she was due to leave, she’d opened that missive, and the contents had shattered her. Fear, dread, and any number of similar emotions had gripped her. She’d been thrust back to the uncertainty of her youth, but only briefly. Samantha was no longer alone or the girl she’d once been. She was strong, and she would deal with whatever this was.
“I want you to tell me what the letters did not, Warwick.”
“What letters?”
“The ones the family wrote.”
“I’m sure my sisters and yours left nothing out.”
His dismissal of her question angered her irrationally and yet that wasn’t really the reason. He hadn’t cared enough about her to sit down and pen a letter to her. Out of sight, out of mind is what she’d clearly been to Warwick Sinclair.
He seemed bigger to Samantha. His body had filled out. Dev, his oldest brother, was the same and Warwick’s cousins. Dark hair, green eyes, the Sinclair family coloring.
“Your hair is still messy and in need of a cut.”
“Not everyone walks about immaculate, Samantha.”
“Well, certainly not you.”
When she’d heard his voice and felt his arms around her on that boat, she’d wanted to weep with relief. Warwick was there, and he would keep her safe.
And you spent a year looking after yourself.You don’t need him to keep you safe.
She’d worked hard after her brother had saved her to be a strong person. To not quake in fear when she was scared or to stand back when she needed to stand strong. It had not been easy, but she’d done it… mostly.
“You have not eaten everything then?” He picked up another slice of bread and butter and took a large bite.
“I have left you a crumb or two.”
She and Warwick Sinclair had lived most of their lives teasing each other. It was the way they communicated. To him, Samantha was just another sister.
He wore trousers and a loose shirt. His feet were bare, and his hair was all over the place. They’d seen each other in many different forms of dress in their lifetime. Of course she’d been aware of Warwick as a man for a few years now but had tried never to think of him as anything more than an annoyingly handsome brother.
Sometimes, when other young ladies were falling over themselves to get his attention, it had not been easy to watch. But she had and pretended it did not bother her, when inside it had. She’d been jealous and had not liked the emotion one bit.
