“Oh.” She pulled out of his arms and back a few steps. “I-I…”
“I know, but we can’t discuss this now. I have to get out of your room.”
She nodded, cheeks flushed pink, eyes still full of heat. He looked at her mouth.
“Warwick, stop,” she hissed. “Go.”
“Right. Sorry.” He grabbed her and kissed her, then walked out of the room, hard and aching and with no idea what the hell he was supposed to do now with the fact that he wanted her desperately.
That in all likelihood what he was feeling deep in his chest was love.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
“Smile, remember, Samantha. James says that we must all smile until our cheeks ache so we raise lots of money.”
“I am resting my face, Rory, before I arrive.”
Samantha was entering their ballroom with Rory and his wife Kate. It was three days after she and Warwick had kissed, and she could still make no sense of anything. She had seen him, and unlike her he had not been uncomfortable in her presence. In fact, he’d given her a secret smile and carried on as if he’d not changed everything between them.
That kiss, and the feel of his hands on her body had kept her awake at night.
“You look lovely, Samantha,” Rory said.
“Thank you. You and Kate also.”
“You are preoccupied with worry. Let it go for tonight,” Rory added.
“I will try.”
Samantha was never alone unless she was painting, and even then, a servant was usually lurking in the hallway somewhere. She didn’t protest. Not after what happened to Warwick. Her family were important to her, and to keep their minds at ease, she was doing as they asked of her.
Thus far there had been no mention of what her father had done publicly, which was a relief. But there had also been no correspondence from the man who’d shot Warwick. She was not naive enough to believe it wasn’t coming. Samantha felt like a large dark cloud was hanging over the family waiting to rain hell down upon them.
She hoped that the knife wound she’d given the man that night at the Duck and Goose had become severely infected, and he would cause them no further trouble. Her hope was faint at best, but she clung to it.
“It will be all right, little sister.” Rory’s lips brushed her hair. “We are here and strong together. Nothing will change that.”
She looked at him, so like Max, and yet so different also. She had come to love him as she did the others.
“It’s my hope you are right, Rory. But I feel the wait is not easy. When will he strike? When will the men who kidnapped me try again? Or will they go after someone else I love.”
He held out a large hand, and she took it. On the other side, Kate had her arm through his and looked beautiful in a deep rust gown. She gave Samantha a gentle smile.
“We will not allow it to happen,” he said with a conviction she was far from feeling. “Come, we must pay our respects to the host,” Rory said.
“Must we? He’s quite pompous on this night, don’t you think?” Samantha said, knowing James heard her words.
The duke and duchess looked as they always did. Magnificent. The jewels they wore sparkled, and their dress befitted their standing.
“You’ll pay for that, minx,” James said as she sank into a curtsey with Kate. Rory bowed.
“It is the only evening you get that from me,” Rory said.
“And yet you do it so well,” Eden said, a smile on her face. “You both look lovely,” she added to Samantha and Kate. “I just said to Warwick it is the one time of the year we all appear as shiny as newly minted sovereigns.”
“What?” Rory looked down at her.
“What?”
