Page 25

Sam

Lord Bentley was back. And Sam wasn’t affected in the least. He walked down the hall toward Bentley’s guest chamber.

He wasn’t even angry he had to serve a self-important aristocrat.

Because what he felt toward Bentley was nothing.

The man wasn’t even worthy of his hatred.

Sam had definitely not thought about that incredible arse while he definitely hadn’t touched himself.

Bentley was definitely not the reason Sam had passed on every invitation he’d received for a quick shag.

There was no quickening of his pulse or tightness in his gut right now.

That’s some impressive denial, Sam. It’s so thick you might as well slice it up and serve it for dessert.

He let out a growl of frustration and pushed into Bentley’s chamber, perhaps a tad rougher than he normally would. The man spun around, eyes wide. Shite . He’d been so distracted arguing with himself, he’d forgotten to knock.

Bentley’s gaze immediately shuttered, the surprise vanishing behind an aristocratic mask.

Was it something they practiced in front of the looking glass growing up?

Did they stand there, father at their back instructing them, perfecting their I have a stick up my arse expression?

Perhaps that was what Sam’s father and eldest brother had been doing all those times they were shut in Father’s study.

“I see you have forgotten how to knock since I’ve been here,” Lord Bentley said.

Yes, but it was actually Bentley’s fault Sam had forgotten. So, really, the man was only complaining about himself. Bentley’s gaze flitted away, and he shifted on his feet. Sam cocked his head. Like the man was uncomfortable. Odd…

“I see you haven’t forgotten how to be a pompous arse,” Sam murmured, studying the man.

Fiery amber eyes snapped to Sam’s. “I beg your pardon?” A delectable flush bloomed over those cheekbones Sam wanted to trace with his tongue.

A thrill skittered down Sam’s spine. Oof. This wasn’t good. He liked needling the man way too much.

“First you barge into my room, and then you have the gall to insult me? Why don’t you—” He cut off, mouth moving wordlessly as he clearly came up with nothing.

“Why don’t I…deliver another bone-melting orgasm? Well, I don’t know, Bentley. I just stepped into the room. We haven’t even exchanged pleasantries. Give a man a second.”

Bentley glared at him, cheeks now a blotchy crimson. “Why I’d bother with empty pleasantries with you is beyond me.”

“That explains why you dove straight into unpleasantries.”

“Why don’t you be useful and fetch someone else to assist me? Someone capable.”

Lord, the amount of haughtiness this man could infuse into his tone was remarkable.

The thing was, it was almost…too much. Like he was trying too hard.

It didn’t align with the way Bentley’s stare kept flicking away from Sam, how his right hand tapped rapidly on his thigh, how his legs kept tensing beneath those fawn breeches, like he wanted to fidget but wouldn’t allow himself.

And then it hit Sam. It all made sense now.

“This is your default, isn’t it?” he asked, eyes widening.

“Arrogant, uncaring aristocrat. Because I…ruffle your feathers”—he bounced his eyebrows—“in the best way. Is that why, at the house party, you were an arse to me, and only me? That was it, wasn’t it?

You found me so irresistible you had to put on this little act to try to keep your paws off me.

I have to say, my lord. Your acting skills could use some work. ”

Lord Bentley’s mouth dropped open, and he made a strangled sound, but Sam continued before the man could manage to get anything articulate out.

“I’ll admit, I’m very happy you didn’t succeed.

Keeping your paws off me, that is. Not that I fault you.

As we’ve gone over”—he swept a hand down his body—“even the most disciplined have trouble resisting. And now that I know it’s not true antagonization…

Well, I’m all for role-playing, my lord.

If you ever want to berate me, I’ll happily oblige.

I’ve never been spanked, but I’d never say no to trying. ”

Bentley blinked at him, his face completely slack. Then he finally shook away his stupor. “How does anyone put up with you? Every time you open your mouth, I find myself even more surprised.”

“Why, thank you. Always what a man wants to hear about his mouth.” Sam winked. “And you’re the one who had a tryst with me, Bentley. If I’m so insufferable, I’m not sure what that says about you and your decision making.”

“A brief departure into madness. Clearly,” Bentley grumbled, but the blush on his freckled cheeks was now spreading down his neck. Which meant Sam had hit the mark.

Bullseye.

“You liiiiike me,” Sam crooned softly as he walked up to Bentley.

“I absolutely do not like you.” Bentley threw Sam a fierce glare, but it only made Sam’s grin widen.

“What do you need assistance with?”

“Coat, cravat, and boots.” Bentley let out a petulant huff. “I really cannot stand you.”

Sam hummed happily, which only had Bentley rolling his eyes. “Do you want me to bring you hot water for washing as well?”

Bentley nodded, those pretty pouty lips…well, all pouty. He was quite fetching when he was trying to be vexed. How different that glare looked now that Sam had an inkling of who the man was underneath.

“Excellent decision,” Sam continued. “You stink to high heaven.”

Bentley’s chin jerked in, and his mouth did that gaping thing again. “Dear Lord. Do you speak to the Duke this way? How have you maintained your position?”

Sam, none too gently, tugged Bentley out of his tight riding coat. And by the honeyed-glare sent his way, Bentley knew Sam was man-handling him on purpose. He was such an adorable little grumpy Bentley.

“To answer your question,” he said, moving to work on Bentley’s cravat. “I do speak to the Duke this way. He enjoys my flippancy. That, and he’d never sack me.”

Bentley froze. Even already standing still as he was, his breathing slowed, his muscles stiffened. Sam raked a glance over the man’s stony expression. The flesh of his cheek moved slightly, like he was biting it.

Sam finally managed to get the unsurprisingly tight knot undone and pulled the neckcloth free. He stepped back, tilted his head and studied Bentley. If he was a betting man, he’d wager Bentley was jealous .

“The Duke and I have known each other a long time,” Sam said meaningfully. “We have a…special bond, you could say.”

Bentley’s hands fisted.

Sam sank his teeth into his bottom lip and tried to hold back his grin. “He’s like a brother to me.”

Bentley’s entire frame sagged; the tension drained straight through a sieve.

It was almost impossible for Sam to hold back his squeal of glee, but he just managed it.

“I have to say, jealousy looks delicious on you, my lord. Now sit.” He gave Bentley’s chest a small shove, and Bentley allowed himself to fall back into his chair.

“Jealous?” Bentley scoffed. “Hardly. I pity the man, honestly. He has to endure your company every day. I ought to send him my condolences.”

Sam chuckled as he removed Bentley’s boots. There was obviously something very wrong with him, because his heart was ticking away much too happily at this back-and-forth. He peeked at Bentley beneath his lashes.

“Of course. My mistake.”

The man looked heavenward and shook his head slightly. He rolled his lips in, and the corners of his mouth twitched, like a certain disapproving lord wasn’t as disapproving as he was trying to let on.

Sam rocked back on his heels and popped up. “I’ll take your boots down, so I can clean them this evening. The Duke mentioned you’ll be staying the night. Do you need me to ready anything for the morrow?”

Bentley pointed to a satchel resting atop one of the armchairs by the hearth. “If you wouldn’t mind pressing an outfit. I hadn’t expected to stay the night, so I wasn’t exactly worried about being presentable. I’m sure everything in there is wrinkled dreadfully.”

Sam ambled over to the satchel. “Never fear. You’re in good hands now.

” He swept a flirtatious gaze over Bentley, and the man’s pale skin pinkened again.

Bloody hell, he liked that. He sifted through the satchel and retrieved garments to prepare for tomorrow.

He straightened, hesitated, and then snatched up the pair of leather slip-on house shoes.

He quickly brought them over to where Bentley still sat, rubbing his eyes, features drooping.

It was the first time Sam noticed the dark bags under those amber eyes, the sag to his jaw.

Something inside Sam softened. He could imagine it’d been an exhausting journey, and a stressful week, dealing with a lost sibling.

When one actually cared about their siblings.

Which Bentley so obviously did. A gentle whirring started up in his chest. Perhaps he should take it easy on the man.

He placed the shoes on the floor in front of Bentley, lined up so he could easily slip them on. “Shoes for you, my lord,” he said softly. “I’ll have hot water brought up for you straight away. And coffee?”

Bentley sent him a weak smile. “I definitely wouldn’t say no to a coffee.”

Sam nodded and backed toward the door, grabbing the man’s riding boots on his way.

“Black with a heap of sugar. Don’t worry, I won’t mess it up this time.” He winked.

Bentley shook his head, an amber wave falling over his brow, a half-hearted huff falling from him. But the reluctant smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

Sam’s gut fluttered.

Bentley liked his antics.

With that, Sam slipped from the room.