Chapter Eleven

Later that night, Myfanwy was plagued with restlessness yet again. With her weariness, she’d expected to close her eyes the moment her head hit the pillow, but an unsettled feeling ate at her, making it impossible to clear her mind.

It must be the child, Myfanwy thought, flinging off her covers. On only the second night in Samuel’s home, Annabelle was most likely still out of sorts. Even though Myfanwy had elicited a smile from the little girl by the end of the day, she understood that there would be a long period of readjustment for everyone in the house.

But when she sneaked into Annabelle’s room—and checked to make sure she was still breathing—everything was exactly as it should be. The only difference from the previous night was that Annabelle wasn’t completely hidden underneath her plush covers. Her lovely, thick hair was spread out like a field of orange tulips around her. Myfanwy reached out to stroke her sister’s forehead, mimicking how she’d seen Gertie do it earlier in the day, and was delighted when Annabelle cuddled into the warmth of her palm.

She was a sweet child. Odd and mysterious—almost like a changeling baby—but Annabelle still managed to dig out a place in Myfanwy’s heart already. Funny, how fast things like that could happen.

Love. When you were least expecting it. Even when it completely questioned her beliefs in her own father, Myfanwy still found love.

Keeping an eye on Annabelle, Myfanwy opened the door to leave and—

“What the hell are you—”

Myfanwy slapped her palm over Samuel’s mouth. “Shh!” she hissed, pushing him out the doorway, swiftly closing the door behind them. He let her back-pedal him halfway down the corridor before he finally wrangled himself free.

“I’m quiet. I’m quiet,” Samuel whispered. Again, he was wrapped in his navy-blue robe, but his feet were bare, and Myfanwy couldn’t stop from wondering if anything else was bare underneath the expensive fabric. It seemed bizarre to imagine Samuel wearing a dressing gown and cap as her father had done. Bizarre and hilarious.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked, self-consciously pulling his robe tighter around his frame.

“Nothing,” Myfanwy replied, pursing her lips. “I was just…”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

Samuel gave her a hard look, telling her he didn’t believe her for one second, but let it drop. “You should be asleep. What are you doing up?”

“The same thing you’re doing,” Myfanwy answered, flicking her chin toward Annabelle’s door. “Checking on her.”

Samuel hesitated, his gaze going to the door and back to her. Was he embarrassed that she’d discovered him, yet again? Did he not want her to know that he was a nervous hen, just as she was? Pity. She found she liked that about Samuel. It felt like a secret just between them, something only they knew because no one else would have believed it.

His lips screwed up, but eventually he let out words. “How is she?”

Myfanwy smiled. “She’s fine. Fast asleep.”

He frowned at the door. “So, I don’t need to go in there…risk disturbing her?”

“I don’t think so.”

Samuel bobbed on the top of his feet and softly clapped his hands together. “So, I should go back to bed?”

Where else would you go?Myfanwy gave him a firm nod. “I think that would be the correct decision. It’s late.”

“So it is.”

They continued to stand there. Myfanwy couldn’t tell if he wanted to say something else. The man just waited there expectantly. Was she supposed to say something? They hadn’t last night; they’d merely skimmed hands, and that had been worth a thousand words. Words that she would, most likely, ruminate over tonight as she tried to find sleep once more.

“Well,” Myfanwy said, lifting her shoulders awkwardly. “Good night…Samuel.”

Another pregnant pause. “Good night, Myfi.”

Myfanwy had begun to walk past him, relieved the inelegant encounter was finally finished, when she felt the back of Samuel’s hand lightly brush against hers once more.

However, this time, he caught her hand. And he didn’t let go.

“Goddammit!” she heard him say, and then felt his hold strengthen around her wrist.

It all happened so quickly. One moment, Myfanwy was on her feet, and the next she was in Samuel Everett’s arms with his mouth turning her entire body into warm butter.

She didn’t have time to act—only react to what was happening to her. Bless his soul, Samuel was finally breaking.

For her.

Myfanwy wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight, even lifting her leg and hooking it around his good knee so that he didn’t get any ideas. He was not leaving her. No second thoughts. Not until she was good and kissed.

Samuel growled and placed his hand just below her bottom, hoisting her up even higher so that her one foot on the floor was now barely on its tiptoes. She was draped on him and learned—without a doubt—that this man did not sleep in a gown and cap at night.

Samuel’s kisses were hard, punishing, as he angled his head to hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, groaning when Myfanwy got the hang of it. He walked her back to the wall and pinned her against it, holding her in place with the force of need and the insistence of his pelvis. Myfanwy was completely covered by him, enveloped by him, but she wouldn’t be intimidated. Men like Samuel could make it so easy with their size and their appetite, but Myfanwy had an appetite too. She held his head in her hands and slowed his pace, drawing out the kisses, licking his full lips, sucking on the tip of his tongue when he thought to take over.

If life was a game, and there were always winners and losers, then this moment—this chance encounter—was even more important. Now was the time to write the unwritten rules of this sport, to let the other know what was fair and foul, no blurred lines.

“Goddammit,” Samuel repeated huskily, nudging Myfanwy’s head up so he could string a trail of kisses down her neck. She wore the nightgown that Aunt Abigail had purchased for her, which meant it was high-necked and puritanical. Samuel didn’t seem to mind. Even with the cotton between them, she could feel his excitement, feel the lust in each and every flick of his tongue. She squirmed underneath him, and he locked her to him, his manhood stiff and hot in the cradle of her thighs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, though he made no attempt to stop. He’d reached the top of her chest and stared at her breasts for heady seconds, pulling her nightgown on both sides, forcing the fabric tight against her skin. Glancing down, Myfanwy could see her nipples through the fabric, dusty pink and swollen from the feelings he incited inside her. She watched him lower his head and gloss one with the tip of his tongue. A frisson of excitement sparked up her inner thighs, and she rested her head back against the wall.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, traveling over to the other nipple, where he made her feel the same electric jolt.

“Stop saying that,” Myfanwy said, closing her eyes to the sensations. “And don’t stop.”

She heard a guttural laugh. “I didn’t say I was going to stop.”

Myfanwy’s eyes snapped open. She studied his, hoping to understand what he meant. Was he not going to stop…at all? Was that what she wanted? Myfanwy thought she knew the answer but was astonished by her hesitation.

Samuel’s blue eye turned soft, melting her even further. His large hand replaced his mouth, and he fondled her breast, squeezing it in an intoxicating way that made her arch her back off the wall. “Fuck, Myfi,” he purred. “I want this. I want you. I tried to stay way. I tried not to look, but I can’t.”

“Good,” she said. “I don’t want you to. Remember what I said that night in your room? I like it when you look at me.”

Samuel leaned away. His white eye was so incredibly limpid, she wondered if he could see her in it. Only her.

“Why?” he asked. “Why do you want me? You could have anyone.”

She smiled, running her hands up and down his arms. She loved the feel of them, so strong, so firm, so made for her. “I’ve only wanted you. Ever since I was a child. Ever since I first saw you on that field.”

She didn’t know what she’d said that was so wrong, but Samuel’s face turned to thunder and he backed up even more, lowering her feet to the floor. “You want a different man. I am not the same as I was.”

“You are.”

“No.” Samuel shook his head. “I can’t lie to you, Myfanwy. And I can’t allow you to give yourself to me, thinking I am who I once was, because I’m not. And deep down, you know that. I would ruin you with what I’ve become. You deserve better.”

He cupped her face and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. He’d brushed her tears away before, but now she had none to give.

“What are you saying, Samuel?”

His smile was apologetic, and so very, very sad. “The last thing I want to do is take away your good opinion of the man I was. The man I can never be again. I’m sorry.”

*

“I think I’mgoing to have to seduce Samuel Everett.”

Jennifer’s feet stalled in place, and she snatched Myfanwy’s arm so hard that Myfanwy had to hold back a yelp.

Walking ahead of them in the park with Mrs. Adams, Jennifer’s mother twisted her long neck minutely, her straight nose in the air as if she could sniff the inappropriate conversation.

“Not so loud!” Jennifer hissed, frantically calming her expression before her mother turned her gimlet eye on the young pair.

“What’s the matter?” Mrs. Hallett asked irritably.

“Nothing,” Jennifer replied. “I think I have a pebble in my shoe, is all.”

“Well, don’t dawdle,” her mother answered, issuing a put-upon smile to Mrs. Adams.

For once, Myfanwy was thankful the woman paid her next to no attention; she probably would have wondered why Myfanwy was rubbing her arm while her daughter was the one experiencing the alleged pain.

“That hurt!” Myfanwy whispered as Mrs. Hallett turned her back once more.

Jennifer’s forehead furrowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pinch too hard, but you know my mother.”

“I know.” Myfanwy sighed. “That’s why I had to come and see you today. I couldn’t chance writing it in a letter because—”

“My mother reads them all.”

“Yes,” Myfanwy replied bitterly. Insufferable woman. She paused, allowing Jennifer to regroup. “So…” she began tentatively. “What do you think?”

Jennifer blanched. “Of seduction? I don’t know the first thing.”

Myfanwy chuckled, winding her arm around Jennifer’s, tugging her back into the walk. “No, I mean, what do you think about my seducing Samuel? I can’t keep waiting for him; I can’t allow him to think. He won’t take the lead, so I will.”

Jennifer stared straight ahead, her features hidden behind her wide bonnet. But Myfanwy could feel the indecision in her frame, the way her legs seemed locked as they made their way down the dusty path. “Don’t you have enough to worry about right now with your sister? And I feel inclined to remind you that he’s your guardian and you’re his ward… And your…seducement…might affect our cricket match.”

“Yes,” Myfanwy replied. “I’m well aware.”

“And you don’t think there’s a problem with any of that?”

“Why would there be?” Myfanwy couldn’t understand the wrong turn the conversation had taken. She’d expected Jennifer to be happy, excited for the adventurous lovers’ tryst. But she was regarding Myfanwy the same way Myfanwy regarded her whenever Sir Bramble came up in conversation, and that almost made her high from the previous night disappear—almost.

“I don’t know why you’re behaving this way,” Myfanwy grumbled. “I thought you’d be glad for me. You have Sir Bramble—why can’t I have someone?”

Jennifer’s head lowered, and her eyes darted nervously toward her mother again. “First off, I do not have Sir Bramble. He is a friend. A good, very good”—she blushed—“friend. Besides, if I had intentions for the baron, they are the marrying kind, as you well know. I do not want to… I do not want to…”

Myfanwy patted her friend’s hand, hoping to help her out of her misery. “Seduce him?” she added.

“Yes!”

Myfanwy nodded. “Well, that is where we differ, then, dearest. Because, as you know, my end is not the altar. I want nothing to do with a husband, but that doesn’t mean I have to miss out on the extras.”

Jennifer placed a hand to her temple, closing her eyes like she was warding off a headache. “I have no idea what you are speaking about.”

Myfanwy lobbed her a weighted look. “Of course you do. Don’t pretend to be prudish with me now. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She lowered her voice furtively. “Do you mean to tell me that you and Sir Bramble haven’t…you know?”

“I certainly do not know!”

Myfanwy snorted in disbelief. “Oh, please! I’m your best friend in all the world. Sir Bramble’s been nipping at your heels for months. Are you trying to tell me he hasn’t kissed you once? Not even a little peck in a dark corner?”

Jennifer’s cheeks were on fire, and her lashes were fluttering so much that Myfanwy worried she might be having a fit. “No! Sir Bramble is not like the others. He’s decent and kind and gallant. A true gentleman.” Her lips twisted up nervously and then her shoulders deflated. “Why?” she asked. “Do you think that’s bad? Do you think he should have tried? Maybe he doesn’t desire me like Mr. Everett desires you?”

“Of course he does. The man is positively mad for you! Do you want him to kiss you?”

“Yes,” Jennifer said instantly. “I think.” She shook her head. “Yes, I do. But we’re always being watched. My mother is always hovering, answering his questions before I get a chance to, making sure I—the family—is putting our best leg forward.”

“Jennifer, sweet girl,” Myfanwy said plaintively. “The only leg Sir Bramble cares about is yours. And he’d prefer to see it without your mother anywhere in the vicinity.”

Jennifer liked that. She laughed to herself, relaxing and ambling into a stroll. “But I thought you didn’t like Sir Bramble?” she asked. “Why are you so concerned about our…lack of affection?”

Myfanwy was ready for the question. She’d been rehearsing the answer all morning, reminding herself that she wasn’t using her friend or playing with her affections—she was using Sir Bramble. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Jennifer’s eyebrows went up again, and Myfanwy dashed away the ill feeling climbing up her back. “I should have known. No wonder you mentioned Sir Bramble without harassing him.”

“I don’t harass him,” Myfanwy said. “I merely poke fun from time to time.” All the time. “I just need help with something, and I thought he might be the perfect person to ask. And,” Myfanwy added swiftly when she saw Jennifer open her mouth, “I thought you would be interested because it involves you too. It would be a way you could be around your baron without your ever-present mother.”

Jennifer’s mouth clamped shut, and she contemplated her friend for long seconds. Myfanwy tried to look as innocent as possible. “I’m listening,” she finally said. “I don’t know why I am, but I’m listening. What do you have in mind?”