“Good. Come on, Sam,” Darin urged.
“I-I’ll be there shortly.”
With a shrug, Darin set off. Kenneth kept his eyes on Sam, who uncomfortably shifted his feet.
“What is wrong?”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest as if suddenly cold. “I believe it’s time I returned back to Mr. Oliver. Since I can ride now, I’ll make my way back while you stay.”
“As your employer, I determine when you must report back. Why are you anxious to leave? Has someone been unkind to you?”
“No. They’ve been . . .” Sam straightened his back. “I don’t belong here, and you know it.”
Although Kenneth hated to admit it, Sam had the right of it. Kenneth simply didn’t associate with any other children he could recommend. The only substitute he could offer was himself. It had been years since he felt the inclination to explore with the innocent curiosity of a young boy, but he’d find it again. For Sam’s sake, he’d do it.
“Let’s go get the horses.”
Chapter 3
Samantha quietly slipped into the back window of her friend’s house. Francine had been her accomplice in hiding herself away. With the money Samantha left, her friend would purchase food and supplies for her during her absence from town. Francine’s willingness had been nothing short of a miracle for her.
“Where have you been?” Francine whispered fiercely. “I expected you hours ago.”
“I’m sorry. I had to . . . Well, I had too many duties to attend to.”
She could never explain to her friend how Baron Berwick had developed an interest in seeing Sam enjoy childhood. Over the past fortnight, the man had been adamant in their daily adventures. Although his choices in outings didn’t suit her, she enjoyed spending time with him.
He was very sweet and caring. Never once did he judge her for her lack of knowledge about stable work or his selected activity. She discovered his patience didn’t last long, but he always attempted to hide his impatience from her by pausing for a few seconds before continuing his explanation. His restraint touched her and made her think of him as a friend.
“In a dirty stable?” Francine shuddered. “Is all this really necessary? Mr. Lemange has a fine house and a respectable job. You won’t find much better.”
“But I don’t feel anything for him.” Francine rolled her eyes, so Samantha continued. “He’s not very attractive.”
Francine dropped herself down on the bed in a huff. “How can you throw a secure future away for something so insignificant?”
“I wouldn’t call his weasel-like features and mannerisms trivial. How can I be happy married to a rodent?”
“You’re being silly, and you know it.” Francine picked at her fingernails, no longer making eye contact. “I would be happy to marry such a man.”
The sadness in her friend’s voice caught Samantha unaware. Could Francine have feelings for the landlord? Sitting beside her, Samantha wound an arm around her shoulders.
“Do you love him?”
Francine snorted. “Of course not. I love the life he could give me. You’ve always been the one with those romantic notions. I don’t want a knight in rusted armor to sweep me off my feet. I want a rich, fat merchant covered in gold to ask for my hand.”
Samantha shook her head. She couldn’t imagine looking at a man who she didn’t love every day. Not to mention how she could never suffer his touch. The very thought repulsed her.
Since a very young age her mother had told her how effectively her father had captured her heart. Although their parents hadn’t been accepting of the match, they loved each other too much, so they moved away to be together. They had lived their life completely in love and completely happy.
That was what Samantha wanted for herself.
“Then you may have Mr. Lemange, and I’ll wait for my rusty knight.”
After she gathered her supplies and began her half an hour trek home, she could still hear her friend’s laughter echoing in her mind. Was she wrong to want love? The emotion certainly wasn’t something commonplace, but the feeling existed. Her parents had been the proof throughout her entire life.
The question still plagued her the next day as she watched Lord Berwick crouched down, searching for something in the garden. With their daily outings, she began to be fond of the life she set up for herself, but contentment couldn’t last forever. Eventually he would wonder why Sam never grew to manhood.
She sighed, watching him lean forward to inspect a spot of dirt. His attractiveness made these strange boyhood adventures more exciting. She enjoyed seeing glimpses of the boy he’d been as much as she liked watching the man he was.
As he dug a hole in the dirt, she wished he would roll up his sleeves as he had yesterday. The minute glimpse of strong male arms had given her a tight feeling in her stomach. She wanted to experience it again.
“Perfect. Your turn.” He handed her the dirty trowel. “Loosen the dirt in front of you.”
“Whatever for?” One good part about playing a boy was the baron’s acceptance of her questions. He claimed curiosity would help her grow into a stronger man. Part of her wanted to tell him the transformation would never come to pass.
“You’ll see.” He grinned and tugged at her arm until she was on her knees too. He hadn’t touched her often, but every time he did, the contact seared through her. What was it about him that made her burn?
“Now what?” she asked after the dirt had been loosened.
“Dig around with your hand until you find a worm.”
“A what? You want a worm? Why?”
“Stop questioning me and start digging.” Exasperation marred his brow.
Although his tone held a teasing quality, she knew when to stop pushing. Swallowing down her reluctance, she put her hand in the damp soil, wincing as the grains stuck under her fingernails. Boys experienced such a different childhood than she expected. The recklessness they shared scared her witless.
Something slimy moved under her fingertips. Without thought, she pulled the creature from the ground and put it in the baron’s lap. After all, she wasn’t the one who wanted a worm.
“What are you doing?” he exclaimed, brushing at his trousers.
“Don’t let it get away! We may not be able to find another.”
Moving into action, she reached between his legs to recover the tiny creature trying to burrow back into the Earth. This time she kept it in her hand. The poor thing wiggled in her palm, nuzzling her skin. She hoped Lord Berwick hadn’t hurt it when he knocked it to the ground.
She felt a connection with the worm. The little thing was all alone in the dirt trying to build a life for itself.
“Do you intend to move your hand?”
Startled, she looked down at his thigh, where her hand rested, and snatched her hand back. Her cheeks flamed. He must think Sam to be an utter fool.
“S-sorry.”
“Come on.” His tone was tight. Angry. She wondered why, but decided not to push him further by asking.
Carefully clasping her hands together, she cradled her new friend to her breast. The baron marched ahead, but she couldn’t keep up. Her worm would not appreciate being overly jostled. They continued on for a long time, making her fear for the gentle creature.
When he finally stopped in front of a modest pond, she heaved a sigh of relief. Uncurling her fingers, she smiled to see her little friend squirm along safely.
“Hand me the worm.”
Protectiveness engulfed her. What could he possibly want with her worm? He should have found his own. She wanted to tell him just that, but his tone indicated he would not appreciate insubordinate behavior.
He raised an eyebrow and shook his extended hand in a silent demand. Sighing, she gently placed the worm in the baron’s waiting palm. Then she saw it, Lord Berwick intended to murder her worm.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked, as she reached out to reclaim her friend.
“Stop.” He held his hand higher.
“Let me show you.”
“You’ll kill him.” Tears poured down her cheeks as she futilely threw herself at the baron.
“What the hell?” He clasped her upper arm with his free hand and held her away from him.
Her throat clogged to see his fisted hand. Had he already killed her worm?
“Don’t hurt him,” she whispered when she could find her voice. “Please.”
“The worm?” He opened his hand.
After blinking back her tears, she saw the little guy moving about unperturbed by their scuffle. “Can I have him back?”
His hard face didn’t change as he brought his hand closer to hers and dropped the wiggling thing into her palm. She sank down to her knees as she cradled him to her again.
“You don’t want to go fishing?” he asked.
“Not if that means you’re going to kill him.”
To her surprise the baron laughed. A full bellied sound directed at her. She didn’t care. Her friend moved safely within her grasp.
“What is it about him? After you threw him at me, I never expected an attachment.”
Glancing down at the fluid-like motion of the worm’s body as he sought out a home, love filled her chest.
“He’s like me. Uprooted and alone. At least we have each other now.”
The reality of her words hit her, closing her throat once again. Since her parents were dead, she had no family to rely on. Francine helped her now, but if anyone found out that would stop. Mr. Lemange would turn her friend’s family out if he discovered. She felt utterly alone.
Kenneth rode through his property while attempting to keep his anger under control. The amount of disrepair astounded him. Never had he imagined the buildings and structures would have deteriorated so much since his last ride through.
At least this time was different. This morning he received word that one of his investments produced enough to pay a modest stipend. The pride he’d felt urged him to reassess the damage at Berwick and make a list of projects to be completed first. He didn’t even know where to begin.
Movement near one of the abandoned houses caught his eye. A woman stood outside hanging laundry. He pinched his lips together. The houses around here were not fit to live in. He thought the owners had moved on. At least they had at the time of his last inspection.
He dismounted and walked his horse closer as to not alarm her. She was short, slender, and moved with an ease of having done this chore often. When she spun around, his breath caught. Long eyelashes surrounding wide blue eyes watched him carefully. Her milk chocolate colored hair was done up in a tight chignon but strands had escaped, teasing her face and neck with the gentle blow of the wind. Combined with her pert nose and pouty lips, she was beautiful. He would swear he’d never seen her before, but familiarity tugged at him.
“My lord, what are you doing here?”
Surprise by the question, he stopped. The voice held a familiar edge as well.
“Have we met?”
She dropped her gaze and her shoulders. “No, my lord.”
The denial sounded too forced. What secrets was she hiding from him? Moving closer to her, the feeling of familiarity intensified. When he stood before her, it hit him. His mouth nearly fell open.
“Sam?”
Her body went rigid. “No. I am Samantha. Sam is my . . . my brother.”
Another wave of shock struck him, making him take a step back in disbelief. All this time he thought the boy survived on his own. He’d even indicated as much during one of their conversations. Anger darkened his face. How could Sam have lied to him? And how could this woman force her young brother to work when she could’ve taken a job herself?
“Sam, the young boy who works in my stables, is your brother?”
She nodded as if unable to say the damning words aloud.
“Why? Why make him work at such an age? You could—”
Her eyes flashed as they flew to his face. “Don’t presume to understand my . . . I mean, our situation. Good day to you.”
She grabbed her laundry basket and stomped off toward the dilapidated house. When she arrived at the door, she pushed, but nothing happened. After another failed attempt, Kenneth hurried over, but she managed to open the door in time to slam it in his face.
No woman had ever treated him so poorly. Usually he exhibited good manners and charm and could obtain a smile or two from a lady, but he rarely received anger. He found himself intrigued.
With thoughts of the lovely Samantha on his mind, he mounted his horse and hurried home. He refused to allow Sam as well as his sister to live in such an unsuitable house. He would fix it himself. Beginning with the door.
At Berwick he had every intention of quickly collecting his tools and returning back to Samantha, but he received a summons from his mother. To his surprise, she waited for him in the drawing room. For years she’d been living in the dowager house. She’d claimed the necessity arose due to her declining health, but he suspected it had more to do with her reluctance to be around the previous baron.
“Kenneth!” she exclaimed as he entered the room. “Where have you been? I have been waiting for quite some time.”
“Sorry, Mother. Are you feeling better? I haven’t seen you in the manor house in a while,” Kenneth answered, avoiding the question as he sat in the chair furthest from the woman he barely knew.
“The house hasn’t changed much from my last visit.” She looked around and sniffed as if expecting the air to have remained the same as well.
“I don’t suppose Father had any reason to make changes after you fell ill.”
Her eyes zeroed in on him. “And I suppose your future wife will set on making those changes?”
Kenneth rubbed his eyes. Why were women so obsessed with making men wed? “I suppose so. That is, if I ever marry.”
She smiled so wide, her teeth gleamed in the light. “Well, my boy. If you are adverse to the idea, take your time. You have no reason to rush.”
“Thank you.” Kenneth found himself slightly taken aback. He’d not expected her to act so favorably.
“Over the past few months, my health has seen a great improvement.”
“That is wonderful. Why have you never said anything before now?”
Her face flushed, making him see through her claim. The woman had always been a puzzle to him. Why didn’t she say what she meant?
“I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t fall back into the illness. Regardless, it no longer matters. I am here now. I will take my place as baroness. I will not leave you again, my son.”
Although delivered with a smile, Kenneth heard the threat in her words. A sense of foreboding settled around him. No good would come from her sudden reappearance in his life.
The banging on her door brought Samantha vaulting from her chair and dropping her mending on the floor. Terror snaked its way up her body, increasing her pulse. Who would come near the rundown houses? Based on the loud rhythmic sound, the knock wasn’t meant to request entry.
Rooted to the spot, she watched in horror as her door fell from the hinges. With her heart beating wildly, she wasn’t sure if she should attack the intruder or run and hide. Luckily she didn’t have to make a decision when Lord Berwick appeared where her door had been.
“Good evening. I hope you don’t mind. I decided to fix your door.”
His words woke her from her trance, and she bounded forward. “Of course I mind. How dare you come here, unannounced, and rip my door off. You nearly scared me to death.”
Pink crawled up his neck as he glanced at the floor. He was clearly embarrassed by his rash behavior.
“I’m sorry. I only meant to do a good deed for you and Sam.”
She tossed her hands up in the air. “You and your good deeds. What are you trying to atone for?”
Although she knew as Samantha she had no right to act in this manner towards the baron, her friendship through Sam made her feel comfortable with him.
“More than you could imagine.” H
is words were barely loud enough for her to hear. “Why can you and your brother not accept someone offering a kindness?”
“In my experience, a kindness isn’t given without an expectation to receive something in return.”
“Not from me.” His deep voice rang with sincerity, making her shiver. “Miss . . .”
“Samantha. Miss Samantha,” she quickly said. He couldn’t learn of her last name and discover Sam didn’t really exist. He would be furious if he learned of her deception. She couldn’t let that happen.
“Miss Samantha, will you allow me to fix your door for you?”
This man never ceased to delight and confuse her. Every day he surprised her, and she wondered what motivated him to give of himself and his time so selflessly.
“Yes,” she whispered, unwilling to give her acquiescence more volume.
Without a word, he nodded, lifted the door, and walked away. The gaping hole left in her wall seemed to provide a perfect comparison to how her life had become. Lord Berwick filled the hole now, but when he tired of his project with Sam, she’d be left alone once again. She glanced to the table where her pet worm lived in a pot, having buried himself under too much dirt to offer companionship. At least she had him.
The work on her door didn’t take an exorbitant amount of time, but she felt every second pass as if in slow motion. As Sam, she would have been by his side, helping with the door. However, as Samantha, she wasn’t sure how to act.
Part of her wanted to be out there while the other part understood the danger proximity to him would bring. She didn’t want to believe he would hurt her, but at the same time she had no knowledge of his attitude toward women.
Catching the Baron Page 3
