by Alyssa Drake
Lady Westwood seemed unsurprised and unperturbed to discover Wilhelmina and Sam panting on her doorstep at one in the morning. She wordlessly opened the door and gestured to the stairs with a candelabra, indicating which room each lady should take.
Sam wondered how much Lady Westwood knew about their dangerous situation. Considering her accepting manner of their unannounced arrival, Sam decided Lady Westwood was well informed by her sons. The plan was already in place, a precaution in case such an unforeseen emergency arose.
Wilhelmina smiled gratefully at Lady Westwood and rushed up the stairs. As Wilhelmina neared the top, Marie, Rose, and Lucy burst from the room in a cacophony of fear and relief. Wilhelmina wrapped them tightly in her arms and carried them effortlessly back into the room, their little feet swinging above the ground.
Sam could hear excited voices echoing from their chamber as the girls described, what Sam suspected to be, a wildly inaccurate detailing of their nighttime adventure. Sam nodded politely to Lady Westwood as they climbed the stairs slowly, walking side by side in silence.
With a sigh, Sam watched Lady Westwood turn down the hallway toward her chamber, taking the candlestick with her, the circle of light fading from the hallway. Sam stared wistfully at Wilhelmina’s closed bedroom door, wishing she was not heading for an empty bedchamber. Benjamin’s bedchamber. She flushed at the memory.
Now, even that titillation held no excitement for her. She stared blankly out the window, her eyes gazing unseeingly over the shadowy gardens. She shivered slightly, tugging the shawl closer around her shoulders. Shuddering again, Sam moved away from the window, opting for the heat emanating from the fireplace. One of the bricks caught her attention. Not flush with the rest of the bricks, one of the corners partially stuck out from the fireplace. Sam trailed her fingers over the wayward brick—the brick that hid Lord Westwood’s secret hiding place. He had kept her father’s watch concealed for years in the side of the fireplace. She wondered what other unique items were secreted behind the block. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, she began prying the brick from the side of the hearth.
Pausing a moment, Sam wondered if this could be considered invading his privacy; he did show her the hiding place. She argued with herself for a few minutes. However, curiosity got the better of her, and she resumed her effort to work the brick loose. It popped out suddenly in a shower of dust. Surprised, Sam dropped the brick. It clattered against the hearth with a resounding crash. Sam jumped backward in shock and screamed.
A moment later her chamber door slammed open. Sam’s head whipped around in terror. Struggling against the door frame, both Lord Westwood and Edward shoved themselves through the small space, tumbling into the room in a tangle of arms and legs, their wild eyes darting over every empty corner.
“What are you doing?” demanded Sam incredulously as she slid surreptitiously in front of the wayward brick, covering it with the hem of her nightgown.
“We heard a crash and a scream. We rushed up here as fast as possible,” Edward choked out, his chest still heaving.
“Are you alright?” asked Lord Westwood when Edward paused to catch his breath.
“I am fine, thank you,” answered Sam, embarrassed. She hoped Lord Westwood did not notice the blush creeping into her face. “I was just startled.”
“What caused that dreadful noise?” Edward, now sure there was no danger, studied Sam more closely. Sam squirmed under his gaze.
“Edward, what are you doing?” Wilhelmina’s muffled voice came from the hallway. “Why are you bothering Samantha?”
Edward turned toward his wife who now stood behind him, her hands on her hips. “We heard a suspicious noise.”
“Is that all?” Wilhelmina patted him on the arm. “I have been hearing noises all night. Please come to bed, the children will feel safer knowing their father is with them.”
Edward nodded, glancing around the room once more. He offered his hand to his wife. “Sammie, please accept my apologies for disturbing you.”
“Of course,” smiled Sam, grateful for Wilhelmina’s interruption.
“Benjamin,” Edward glared intently at his friend.
“Yes,” Lord Westwood answered, cocking his head to the side.
“I expect you will be lodging in one of the guest rooms since my sister is currently occupying your room.”
“Of course.”
“And Benjamin,” Edward continued to glare at him, “not one word.”
Lord Westwood grinned in reply.
Edward narrowed his eyes. “Good night then.”
Turning on his heel, Edward followed Wilhelmina to their chamber, leaving Sam’s chamber door wide open. Sam could hear the excited squeals from Marie, Rose, and Lucy when Edward entered their room. She smiled to herself, wondering what fantastic story with which Edward would regale his young daughters.
She glanced back at Lord Westwood who was staring at her intensely, his green eyes burning. She shivered again even though the fire blazed hotly behind her.
“He does not trust you, does he?”
Lord Westwood’s eyes flared. “He has his reasons.”
Sam decided her best defense would be to try to distract Lord Westwood until she found an opportunity to replace the brick. While her intentions had been innocent, she was unsure if he would appreciate her snooping through his private memories.
“Are they well founded?” she inquired in what she hoped was a convincing tone.
He smirked, his mouth pulling up at one corner. “Miss Hastings, I am not as easily sidetracked as your brother.”
Sam raised her eyebrows innocently. “My Lord?”
“I am curious to learn what did make that sound.” His stare deepened as he leaned closer. “I see nothing broken.”
So much for distractions, she gulped. Sam stared down at the floor, unwilling to meet his prying gaze, her toe digging into the rug. “I dropped something.”
“Indeed,” murmured Lord Westwood, moving again until he was inches from her face. His whisper tickled her lips. “What did you drop?”
Sam raised her eyes to his face as color rouged her cheeks. “A brick.”
“A brick,” he repeated skeptically. He stepped back and studied her for a moment, then understanding flitted across his face. “Ahh, I see.”
“I am very sorry,” Sam began, her voice wavering. “I was curious, and it slipped out of my hand as I was removing it. I should not have invaded your privacy.”
“Stop,” Lord Westwood placed his finger against Sam’s babbling lips. An electric spark shot through her body like a bolt of lightning.
Sam looked up at him with wide eyes. She nudged the brick forward from its hiding place under the hem of her nightgown.
“I did not get a chance to see anything hidden in the cubby.”
Lord Westwood leaned over and reached for the brick. His fingers lingered a moment on her foot, tracing light lines across the surface. Another spark shot through Sam’s body.
“There is nothing else in the space,” he replied tersely, straightening. His eyes blazed fiercely. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” answered Sam in a meek voice as she watched him shove the brick back into the side of the fireplace.
Once it was flush against the hearth, Lord Westwood turned toward Sam. “Have you been awake long?”
“I never went to sleep,” replied Sam.
“A shame to waste such a nice bed,” he answered, struggling to appear playful.
“I was worried.”
“About?”
“You.”
Lord Westwood considered her answer. “There is no need to worry about me.”
Sam laughed, the hollow sound barely reaching her ears. “Benjamin, someone tried to massacre our family tonight.”
Fire burned once again in his liquid emerald pools. “It appears as though I have underestimated your inquisitiveness. Perhaps we can put it to better use.”
Sam opened her mouth to speak, but Lord
Westwood held up his hand. Sam bit her tongue and waited with uncertainty. She watched quietly as he strolled languidly over to the open chamber door and closed it with a light click.
“Edward would not approve,” clucked Sam. Apparently, Lord Westwood determined the best way to avoid Sam’s questions was to divert her attention.
“I have no doubt there is a myriad of things I have done which Edward would not approve,” he grinned wickedly, twisting the lock.
He crossed the room in two long strides. The heat radiating off his skin made the fire behind her feel like a cool breeze. He lifted his hand, running it lightly over the tendrils escaping from her braid. A tremble danced over her skin. He was clearly intent on distracting her from her current line of thought.
Lord Westwood captured her mouth in a soft, feathery kiss. Her mind went blissfully blank. Slowly, his lips traveled down her neck, nibbling lightly until a moan escaped from Sam’s mouth. His sinful grin flashed in the moonlight.
“What a delightful sound. I wonder how many times I can make you moan before the sun rises.”
Sam’s mouth fell open with a pop. “Benjamin,” she spluttered, but the rest of the sentence was muffled as he resumed his sensual assault on her mouth.
The fire, which originally coursed through her body from Lord Westwood’s earlier caress, burned over every inch of her skin. She felt as though she would explode into a million pieces. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moaned against his lips.
Lord Westwood deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing into her mouth. He pressed against her body, allowing her to feel the muscles beneath his clothing. She pulled him closer, wanting to ignite the same passionate moan from his mouth. Biting on his lower lip, Sam slid one hand into his hair. She nestled against him until her body molded into his body. Her hands wandered under his shirt, skimming across his smooth skin, brushing down his stomach. Her heart pounded, the blood rushing through her body as her fingers slid down his body.
A sharp intake of breath caught her attention. Pulling away with a sigh, Lord Westwood shook his head.
“Slow down, Samantha.”
He took several steps away, standing in the beam of moonlight still shining through the open drapes.
“Why?” she pouted, feeling rejected by the distance he now placed between them.
Lord Westwood pursed his lips as if searching for the right explanation.
“For a self-proclaimed rake, you are behaving exactly like a gentleman,” accused Sam, still annoyed by his sudden detachment.
He snorted. “I believe that particular moniker was given to me by someone else.”
Sam glared at him, still stinging. “It seems I was wrong in my earlier assessment.”
“Samantha, I have been trying my damnedest to be a gentleman, but you seem intent on making that particular endeavor extremely difficult,” he glared at her.
“Good,” retorted Sam with a stamp of her foot. The juvenile action earned the flash of a grin.
“Miss Hastings,” he drawled slowly, his eyes fixed on her face. “Are you asking me to seduce you?” His smile faded, and suddenly, his eyes blazed again with a burning intensity, colored by a touch of darkness which radiated from the green.
“Yes,” squeaked Sam with more conviction than she felt. What was it about this man that made her feel so secure, yet so wildly in danger?
He closed the distance between them in half a second, crushing Sam against his torso. She felt the hard length of him press against her abdomen. His mouth, urgent upon hers, demanded satisfaction. He seemed a man barely in control of his own actions. His passion caused her head to spin until she was dizzy, sagging against him. He lifted her effortlessly and carried her over to the bed—his bed.
Her skin blazed under his touch. Each kiss, each caress left her wanting, needing and yet unable to fulfill the desire. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down. He groaned, a guttural sound which excited her senses. Again, she slid her hand under his shirt, wanting to feel the skin burning underneath. He complied, whipping his shirt over his head, tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor.
Trailing one finger down his chest, Sam marveled at his muscular physique, his skin smooth under her fingertips. He groaned again as she continued the slow path down to the top of his pants. His hands skimmed over the cotton nightdress, lifting it until it pooled around her waist. Then in one swift movement, he yanked it over her head, allowing it to join his shirt on the floor.
She lay naked underneath him, his body pinning her to the mattress. The moonlight glinted over her alabaster skin, warmed by his contact. For a moment, he just stared until embarrassed by his undivided attention, Sam moved to cover herself with a sheet. He blocked her hand, holding the sheet firmly against the bed.
The inferno behind his eyes burned brighter than ever, and Sam shivered as his intense stare washed over her.
“Tell me to leave,” he ground out.
“Why?” whispered Sam.
Lord Westwood took a shaky breath. “Tell me to leave before I do something we cannot undo.”
Sam stared back into the green pools, liquid with passion. “No.”
“Stubborn as always.”
“I want you to stay.”
“Alright,” he hedged. “I agree to stay on one condition. If at any moment you change your mind, you will tell me to stop. Do you understand?”
Sam bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Reid.”
“Lord,” he growled and lunged forward. His mouth closed around her nipple, sucking hard at her breast until she squirmed with pleasure, her back bowing off the bed.
His hand traveled leisurely over her skin, caressing, stoking the fire which burned through her skin with abandon. Gliding over the soft skin of her stomach, he dipped his hand lower, sliding between her legs. She moaned again as his fingers skated higher, tickling the sensitive skin along her inner thigh. His fingers continued their upward trek, pushing into her and massaging the exposed bud with astonishing dexterity.
“Benjamin,” she panted.
She felt as though her entire body would rip apart from pleasure. Sam continued to writhe wantonly on the bed under his ministrations, her voice growing louder as he continued his rhythmic stroking. Her breathing hitched as she exploded around his fingers, her voice calling his name. He covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries of release.
Sam drifted slowly back to her body, her limbs still tingling from his passionate assault. She sighed and stretched dreamily, earning a grin from him as he watched her intently, his hungry eyes consuming her exposed skin.
Moving off the bed, he stood, slowly removing his pants. They dropped onto the floor silently, exposing his erect member. Sam gasped audibly as he stood, naked, in front of her. He continued to hold her gaze with his intense stare.
“Do not over think this, Samantha.”
Sam swallowed and nodded, her eyes still following his every movement. Her tongue, tied in knots, refused to speak. She swallowed again nervously as he lowered himself carefully between her legs, still slick from his fondling. He entered her gradually, inch by inch, until he was completely sheathed inside her. Then he stilled, balancing his weight on his arms, gazing at Sam thoughtfully.
Several sensations played through Sam’s body at the exact same time. The first one was an initial shock of pain, a sudden pinch, then the stretching of her body as he slid slowly inside her. The second one was a peculiar feeling of fullness, which accompanied the third and most curious feeling of all—overwhelming desire washed over her like waves lapping at the shore.
“You are still thinking.” His husky voice rumbled with uncertainty.
“I am trying to decide what to do next,” murmured Sam.
He chuckled softly. “Anything I can do to help you make up your mind?”
Sam glared at him. Even in this most intimate position, he still enjoyed teasing her. Sam ignored his comment, choosing instead to shift her hips. He inhaled sharply.
“Samantha,”
he cautioned as she wriggled under him again.
Sam stared at him with wide blue eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he answered through clenched teeth. “But if you continue moving like that, I am not going to have the power to stop.”
The thought shocked Sam—she had the ability to undo his resolve. She wiggled again, testing her newfound power and grinned sweetly. He moaned, his eyes blazing as he looked down at her, his lips twitching into a wicked grin. Without warning, he descended, his mouth capturing hers once again. Unhurriedly, he began making a path along her jawbone, a trail of hot kisses burning across her skin.
“Benjamin,” Sam breathed softly, tilting her head against the pillow to expose her neck to him.
Gradually, he lifted himself up and thrust forward once again. Only this time, he continued his slow torturous rhythm, the increasing friction causing Sam to wriggle again underneath him. He increased the speed, his hips slamming into Sam with an unparalleled urgency.
Sam pushed back against him, meeting each thrust with one of her own. The intensity between the two of them crackled through the air, a mixture of desire and passion. Sam’s breathing became ragged as she neared her apex. Gripping his hips, she pulled him closer as she exploded with ecstasy, her voice calling his name again. A moment later he followed her over the edge with one final thrust, her name on his lips and collapsed on top of her.
As their breathing slowed, Sam shifted, drawing a sheet across them, her legs still wrapped around his waist.
“Uncomfortable?” murmured Lord Westwood. He pushed up on his elbows, concern flitting through his eyes
“No.” Sam shook her head. She offered him a small smile.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure what to do next.”
Lord Westwood laughed and pressed his forehead against hers, his mouth brushing lightly over her lips. “We have all night, I am certain we can think of something.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The first sound which woke Benjamin was the chirping of doves nesting on the nearby window ledge. They continued their song, blissful in the early morning hours. Sunlight streamed into the room, creeping closer to the bed with each passing minute. His eyes traveled lazily around the room, taking in the familiar setting. Miss Hastings sighed softly next to him, etching the memory of last night freshly in his mind. A half grin played across his lips as he drank in the sleeping form of the girl still wrapped in his arms.
