Chapter Twenty-Six

Samuel bounded down the stairs, an idiotic smile on his face. It was always there. Over the past two days while he and Myfanwy had been “playing,” he couldn’t get the damn thing off—not that he was trying, or even had the energy to. Myfanwy had been taking care of that.

Though, to be fair, her notion of playing and his were at different ends of the spectrum. Samuel had been more than willing to spend most of their nights—and days—in his bedroom, but alas, his sprightly woman had other ideas in her head.

Which was precisely why he found her now in the library, skirts dirty and hair bedraggled as she pleaded with her little sister. Samuel could barely contain his glee at the scene. Myfanwy looked as tired and lifeless as one of the dolls that she’d never wanted to play with.

“Again?” she asked Annabelle, who never seemed to run out of energy or stop asking her older sister to play.

It had taken longer than Myfanwy expected, but Annabelle had finally come around to her. And it was a classic case of be careful what you wish for, because now that Myfanwy was a favorite, she had to handle all that came along with it.

“Don’t you want to go into the kitchens and see if Cook has baked some new biscuits?”

Annabelle twisted her lips to the side, squishing her adorable cheeks in thought. This ploy had worked the day before, and the moment Annabelle had retreated to the kitchen, Myfanwy took off for a long walk with Samuel to clear her mind.

Annabelle shook her head. “No. You left when I ate the cookie. Play now, Myfi!”

Myfi.Even after Myfanwy explained to the child that they were sisters, Annabelle only called her by her name. Myfanwy never said as much, but Samuel knew it upset her, and hoped that sometime soon Annabelle would make the change.

Myfanwy sighed in defeat. It seemed her cookie ploy would not be successful. Her little sister was a smart one. And not the least interested in cricket. Samuel hoped that changed as well, for Myfanwy’s sake.

“Can I play?” he asked, walking into the room.

Annabelle clapped her hands, jumping up and down in her little pink slippers. Abigail had already chided him about them. Apparently, everything he’d bought for the little girl was pink; the older woman explained that a little variety wouldn’t hurt.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” she squealed. “Sam play. Sam play. Sam and Myfi play!”

“Fine!” Myfanwy grumbled, sitting up straight on the chaise to make room for Samuel. He took it readily, loving the way she fell into him when his weight sank into the cushion. “I’ve hid something in the house, and you have to find it. Do you think you can do that?”

Annabelle’s countenance sobered with a nod, and her eyes grew as big as dinner plates.

“I’m not sure,” Myfanwy drawled. “I hid my special blue ribbon, and it could be anywhere. Anywhere in the entire house.”

“Anywhere?”

Myfanwy nodded. “Anywhere. If you find it, then I’ll have Cook make a special dessert tonight.” She leaned over to the girl, her nose skimming Annabelle’s. “With cherries.”

Annabelle was back to jumping and clapping, and instantly became a blur of pink and red as she dashed from the room, searching for the hidden ribbon.

Grabbing the opportunity, Samuel stole a quick kiss from Myfanwy and lay down on the chaise, using her lap for a pillow. “You’re such a good older sister.” He might have purred when she threaded her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of her nails grazing across his scalp. “Where did you hide it?”

“Hide what?”

“The ribbon.”

“I didn’t hide a ribbon.”

Samuel surveyed her critically and deduced that she was serious. “So, are you telling me that you just sent your sweet, young, na?ve—and did I mention sweet—little sister on a wild goose chase through my three-story townhouse?”

Myfanwy threw him a bemused expression, pulling at the ends of his hair. “People don’t care about the end result; the search is the most important part, the thrill.”

“Yes,” Samuel replied dryly, “I’m sure Galahad concluded the same thing when he came upon the Holy Grail.”

“Oh stop,” she said, slapping his stomach. “I just needed a reprieve. I’ll get her soon. Besides, that child is like a bloodhound with a scent. I wouldn’t be surprised if she really did find a blue ribbon somewhere.”

Samuel reached up for one of her loose tendrils, fanning it against his palm. “She’s at a fun age. You know, I don’t think you were that much older the first time I met you.”

Myfanwy’s nose crinkled. “I don’t remember.”

“You mean you don’t remember the exact day you first saw me?” Samuel huffed, pretending to be offended. “I’m shocked. Especially since you became so obsessed with me later. I chiefly recall feeling you undressing me with your eyes during my last year playing.”

“What? Are you…” Myfanwy’s mouth slackened, but nothing sputtered out. Her face turned the same shade as Annabelle’s slippers, and she shook her head as if contemplating whether to speak more or stab him in the heart with her shoe.

Instead, with a flick of her wrist, she rolled him off her lap, dumping him on the floor. “I never undressed you with my eyes,” she retorted sharply, trying not to smile as Samuel cackled at her.

“Well, then I stand corrected, although I’m sure you wanted to,” he replied with a wink. “Although…it didn’t look like your father was dragging you to my matches by your braids. You seemed thoroughly engrossed.”

“You fiend!” Myfanwy laughed as Samuel crawled back on the couch, tentatively retaking his place on her lap. “Did anyone check your brain when that ball smacked you in the eye? Because sometimes I wonder.”

Samuel knocked on his head with his knuckles. “Right as rain.”

Myfanwy snorted, sticking her chin in the air. “Maybe I was engrossed, but it didn’t have anything to do with you. Well…it didn’t have everything to do with you.”

Damn.Samuel’s smile really wouldn’t go away. “Go on.”

“I know my father took me to some games when I was Annabelle’s age, but I don’t recall them,” she explained, gazing off to where the little girl had fled. “I do remember when he began to take me more after my mother passed away.” Samuel held her hand, and she smiled, albeit sadly. “I was so transfixed by the green field, the way the sun hit the blades of grass, making everything seem new and sparkly. I remember—”

“Me in my little cap.”

“No!” Myfanwy chuckled. “I mean, yes, a little. But—please don’t take this the wrong way—it was more than that. Our house was so large and quiet. I never had cousins or friends or siblings to play with. It was just him and me. And then he took me to the cricket grounds. And this whole world opened up. You and all your teammates seemed so close, like best friends. And the easy way you dealt with each, the laughter, and little jokes… It was a revelation. A real family. Right then and there I wanted it, and I vowed that I would have something similar one day. A community of people so I would never be lonely again.”

Samuel brought one of her tendrils up to her nose, tickling the somberness away. “So, you weren’t infatuated with me. It really was the sport that caught you from the beginning.”

“Oh no, I was infatuated with you.” Myfanwy giggled, bending over for a quick kiss. “But that came a little later. Cricket drew me in first. The fellowship and fraternity of it all. People don’t understand how important sport is. And not just for men, but for women too.”

Samuel palmed the back of her neck and brought her down to him once more, answering her with another kiss. A longer one this time, one that lingered and said I love you in every language known to man. When he released her, her lips were swollen and glossy.

“You’re exactly right. Thank you for telling me this,” he said. “But I still think you were undressing me with your eyes.”

*

It was onlyright that the sole thing with the power to yank the couple out of the safety and serenity of their home was cricket. With the game against the matrons set for the coming weekend, the team only had one more practice to prepare themselves and—more importantly—calm their nerves.

Samuel put the ladies through their paces, lengthening their practice by an hour that Wednesday afternoon, forcing them through each and every drill he could think of—from balancing while batting to the mundane catch-and-throw techniques that the women always whined about. Samuel ignored their eye rolls and curt asides. Practice wasn’t supposed to be fun. One practiced and practiced, doing the same motions over and over again so that muscle memory took root. Thinking could be dangerous on the pitch. Too much of it could lead to overanalyzing and second-guessing. Samuel didn’t need his players to think; that was his job. He just needed them to play the way he knew they could. Practice—however mundane—was a necessary evil.

Besides, without those punishing three hours, the ladies wouldn’t have had the privilege of standing in a half-circle around him now, flushed and wind-swept, eyes shining and expectant, bodies strong but exhausted.

And exhilarated. So very exhilarated.

“That wasn’t too horrible,” Samuel concluded, locking his hands behind his back. “Be at the pitch early on Saturday. A good thirty minutes before the match begins so you can warm up.” He nodded to the two men standing proud next to him. “Joe and Benny will be there to bowl a few if you want to heat up the bat. So…other than that… Good job. Thank you for coming today.”

Samuel nodded again, punctuating the end of his little speech. He thought to move on toward the tavern, but the blank looks he received from the ladies kept his feet firmly in place.

“That’s it?” Lady Everly remarked with her familiar bluntness. “That’s all you have to say to us?”

“Go on, Sam,” Joe added, a shy smile hovering on his face. “You got more than that.”

Did he? Samuel wasn’t sure what they were asking of him. He’d been on countless teams and had more coaches than stars in the sky, and he couldn’t recall one of them being particularly encouraging before a big match.

However, that was them. That was the way things used to be, and it used to work for him. But Samuel was different now.

“Um, right,” he said gruffly, then cleared his throat. He caught Myfanwy staring at him with a wry grin, naturally understanding his inner bafflement. “Well…”

Joe saved him. “Ladies,” he said austerely, taking off his cap like he was about to kneel and propose. “I… Well, me and Benny here,” he said, getting a reassuring gesture from his friend. “We can’t thank you enough for letting us be a part of your team—”

Joe broke off as a telltale wobble came to his voice, and he lowered his head. All of a sudden, it struck Samuel how much Joe had changed this past month. One could say it was the booze—and no doubt that had played a large role in his transformation—but Samuel knew it was more than that. His complexion had lost its ruddy, greasy shine, and Joe resembled the man he used to be, the one whose legs were as valued and applauded as any great stallion’s. His countenance was also altered. Joe’s neck might be bowed now, but Samuel was certain that once he lifted his head, his shoulders would be pulled wide, his back straight. Joe Danvers was a man who’d regained some confidence in who he was and who he could be.

Joe blew out a long breath and raised his head. His eyes were noticeably red. “I…ah… I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have this, so… Ah…you know…” He put a hand over his mouth. Benny came up to his side and threw an arm around his shoulder, whispering something indecipherable into the man’s ear. Joe’s chest shuddered from the emotion of it all.

Slowly, a trickle of sound filled the precarious silence, and Samuel noticed the ladies had begun clapping. Soon, the soft, polite claps morphed into something greater, something akin to the crowds that once cheered Joe and Benny’s names not so long ago.

Their heads angled together, the two men responded with bashful grins, shoving their caps back on, allowing the ladies to applaud them in their own special way.

And yet, when it was over, his team still stayed in its place, waiting for more from him.

Samuel’s chest was tight, as if something was growing inside him, begging to be released. He took his time, contemplating his players, giving each one a hard stare before moving on to the next. Mimicking Joe, he snatched his cap from his head, rolling it around in his hands.

“I’m not great with words,” he began. “It’s difficult to know the right thing to say.”

“You don’t seem to have that problem when you’re yelling at us,” Anna remarked, causing the others to snicker.

“You provide wonderful inspiration for that,” Samuel snapped jovially. His chuckle faded, and he squinted up at the sun, sore that addressing the ladies was proving to be so difficult. Thoughts of what Myfanwy had told him earlier, about how she’d yearned for the camaraderie of a team, came back to him.

He looked back to her. Myfanwy’s grin was no longer teasing. Her tanned face was as safe and loving as her arms whenever she held him, and equally freeing.

“The life I was living before you all came into it wasn’t much of a life at all,” Samuel began steadily. “I spent my hours just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to get through to the next day. I thought my best years were behind me. I was wrong.” His voice became high at the last moment as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. Myfanwy, true to her nature, didn’t bottle anything inside. The sun glinted off her tears as they trailed down her cheeks. “Even with all that I’ve accomplished on the pitch, I can say now that these few weeks with you have been some of the best I’ve ever experienced.” Samuel willed Myfanwy to keep looking at him. “And that’s because of you.”

“Um…” Lady Everly said, her tone cutting through the heightened atmosphere. “Are you speaking to Myfanwy or all of us?”

Samuel blinked. And climbed out of his daze. He raised his brow at Lady Everly. “Myfanwy—and you!” he hurried to add, raising his arms at his sides. “Everyone. All of you, obviously!”

The team chuckled at his befuddlement, and Samuel could feel his cheeks blazing to high heaven. He shook his head at his sorry state and decided to wrap up his awkward speech. “So, if any of you are lucky enough to still be unmarried next year, I’d love to coach you again. If, that is, you’ll have me.”

Anna crossed her arms, jutting out her hip. “And what if we are married?”

Samuel sighed, slapping his cap back on his head. “Well, Anna, since you’ll probably be playing for the other team, I’ll most likely exploit your weaknesses to the best of my ability, so we rout you good and proper.”

Anna tried to suppress a smile as she exchanged looks with Lady Everly. Then she nodded in approval. “That’s a good answer, coach. A very good answer.”

*

A quiet knocksounded, and Myfanwy entered his office, closing the door discreetly behind her.

Samuel dropped the paper he was holding on the top of his desk and lazed back in his chair. “I thought you would be on your way home by now.”

Myfanwy meandered over to him, a thoughtful crease in the middle of her forehead. He didn’t think she was doing it on purpose, but her hips had a special sway to them this afternoon. He’d noticed it at practice as well. He’d had to will his cockstand away countless times over the three hours, mostly by bringing up mental pictures of men playing football. It was a pointless sport. Who wanted to play a game that wouldn’t let you use your hands? Silly.

“No,” Myfanwy replied, that crease getting deeper. “Jennifer wasn’t here today. It’s not like her to miss a practice, especially such an important one. I hope she isn’t ill.” She shrugged, perching her bottom on the edge of his desk, one long leg dangling idly in front of him. “It’s my fault. I haven’t written or called.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Samuel said, utterly beguiled by the innocent white stocking that peeked out from underneath her skirt. So feminine. So lovely. “You’ve been busy.”

She must have heard the libertine insinuation in his voice, because her cheeks bunched up merrily with a thin smile. “You mean we’ve been busy.”

“Oh, I’m always busy,” Samuel remarked, sliding his chair toward her, caging her as he placed his hands on her hips. Good Lord, would his desire for her ever end? Not when she looked at him like that.

“What?” Myfanwy said, cocking her head.

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

She huffed. “I’m merely looking at you.”

“No,” Samuel said, inching closer. “You’re thinking about me in bed, naked, as beautiful and well-formed as Zeus himself.”

She slung her arms over his shoulders. “Oh, so you’re a god now.”

“I am to you.”

Myfanwy rolled her eyes, pushing him away. “Such narcissistic nonsense.”

“I can’t help it.” He laughed, picking her arms up and putting them on his shoulders again. “You feed my ego with your lusty glances.”

“They’re hardly lusty.”

“They give me ideas,” he said playfully, ignoring her temper. “So, it’s best you leave now and check on Jennifer before I act on them.”

Even as Samuel warned Myfanwy, he pressed closer. It couldn’t be helped. Their magnetism was pure nature. He was the bee, and she was the most succulent flower.

Her mouth opened, and Samuel could hear her breathing become shallower. Her teeth tapped together as if she were weighing what to say next. Her curiosity won out. “What ideas?”

Goddammit.A rush of sinfully delicious coupling positions attacked his brain. But one…one position held prominence over them all.

“Oh,” he drawled, rubbing her thigh. “Let’s just say I’ve had fantasies of getting you into this office for a while now. They involve you and a particular piece of furniture.”

“A desk?” A nervous giggle escaped her, and Myfanwy peered down at the large mahogany desk. “What could be so enticing about a desk?”

Working completely of their own accord, Samuel’s hands dipped underneath her skirt and began a thorough exploration. They skated along those silk stockings until they reached bare, soft, sizzling skin.

“It’s not the desk,” he answered wickedly. “It’s you on it.”

Myfanwy’s tone was wary, yet she couldn’t hide the tinge of yearning. “I am on it, aren’t I?”

Samuel nodded, lifting her skirts up to her hips, exposing the source of his yearning. “I had something different in mind,” he said, lowering his head to her core, inflating his lungs with the salty, sweet aromas of her need. He felt her lean back on her forearms, knocking a pile of his papers to the floor. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave now?” He licked her seam in another warning shot.

Her legs jerked. “I have time. Besides,” she added with a halting chuckle, “how can I leave now? You have me so very curious.”

Samuel smiled into her mound. He wasn’t in the mood to take his time. He went straight for her pearl and flicked it with his tongue in languid strokes. Myfanwy’s legs tightened against his ears. “Is that all you are?” he asked. “Curious?”

“Maybe”—she panted—“maybe a little more than curious.”

“Maybe aroused?” he said, increasing the tempo of his tongue until her pelvis began to rock in time.

“Maybe,” she yelped.

“And maybe, just maybe, you’re impatient for my cock,” Samuel went on, inserting one finger and curling it inside her delicate walls, “because you spent the afternoon undressing me and dreaming about it inside you, giving you exactly what you want, making you come.”

Myfanwy was all deep breaths and shaky limbs now. She flopped flat on the desk, arching her pelvis into his mouth, begging him to release her from her torment. “Fine, fine,” she sighed. “Whatever you want me to say, just keep going. I’m almost… Oh God, I’m almost there.”

That would not do. That would not do at all.

Samuel snapped his head up from her legs and laughed at her groan.

“What are you—” Myfanwy’s tirade was cut off as Samuel rose to his feet. In a flash, he flipped her on the table, situating her belly-down against the top and maneuvering her legs so they hung off the end. Her arse was plump and beautiful as it stared invitingly up at him from the edge.

Samuel’s hand went straight to his heart, and he left it there for a few calming breaths, as if to keep it in his chest. Round and creamy, her arse was like a bowl of milk he couldn’t wait to drown himself in.

Myfanwy twisted her neck, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Is this how you envisioned me on the desk?” she asked, her voice decidedly saucy. She may even have wiggled that beautiful bottom of hers, but Samuel didn’t notice. He was too far gone.

“Yes,” he answered weightlessly.

“So, are you going to leave me waiting here? I told you…I have things I have to do. I’m a busy, grand lady.”

Her words sparked him back to life. Samuel pawed at her globes, filling his palms with her mouth-watering flesh. He moved into her, lining up his cock at her entrance. “Yes, you are,” he said, pumping into her in one swift thrust. “Much too grand for me, but I don’t give a damn anymore.”