Page 37

Sam

“All right, men. The tricky part is going to be the rut that limb has lodged itself into,” Barrow, the Devonford stable master, called out to the group of tenants.

A massive branch had crushed part of the outer wall of the gamekeeper’s cottage, knocking some of the field stone that made up the house’s exterior clean off. A good arm’s length of the branch protruded off the building, the roof dipping precariously.

“Made a nice little home for itself in the stone wall,” Barrow was saying. He swung toward Ash and Sam. “Thorne, that’s you.”

“Obviously,” Sam said, casually flexing his arms. He was rewarded with a chorus of hoots and hollers from the rest of the men.

“We’ll pull it off the roof while you lift it high enough to dislodge it from the stone.”

Sam walked over to the large bough. At its lowest point, it was in line with Sam’s face, a bit larger than his thigh in thickness.

From there, it continued up to where it sat nestled in the stone of the cottage’s side wall.

The problem was that was about the height of Sam with his arms stretched overhead.

But if he could lift the limb high enough, hopefully with the force of the other men pulling on the rope, they could get this bugger free.

“Everyone ready?” Barrow called.

Sam tested the weight of the massive branch, the rough bark cutting through his leather working gloves. Hmmm. Well, he’d give it his best shot. He settled in a lunge stance underneath the limb, sliding his hands into position, muscles poised. Sam called back that he was ready.

Barrow counted them down, and on three, Sam heaved.

The branch lifted slightly. He pushed through his heels, drove all of his weight through his straining legs for leverage, and with an almighty grunt, hefted the branch overhead.

Holy fuck. The bough was a lot heavier than Sam had expected.

His arms shook, muscles screaming. The branch tilted in his arm, and he dug deep, sweat trickling down his back.

He watched the crevice, the bough rocking against the stone, loosening, but not quite slipping over the edge.

“Push, Thorne!”

Fuck . His heart drove into his ribcage, blood pumping so furiously he could feel the tick in his neck. Dig a little deeper, Sammie. He leaned back and then hurled his weight forward. The branch rolled up—and over the dip, and the weight blessedly disappeared.

A deafening boom cracked through the air, and the ground shook beneath his boots. His arms fell, limp and useless, and he dropped to a crouch, gratefully pulling in lungfuls of air. Probably should have remembered to breathe when wrestling with that branch.

“Good work all!” Barrow called out.

After a few more draughts of oxygen, he stood and headed to Ash, who was wiping sweat from his forehead, cheeks flushed.

“You sure you can handle this, old man?” Sam said between ragged breaths.

Ash shot Sam a death glare. A gleeful rush bloomed in Sam’s chest. Christ, he loved pestering his best mate about his age.

So, naturally, Sam pestered even more. Sam leaned over and murmured, “Don’t want you to strain anything too important now.

Or else you won’t be able to please your pretty new young wife.

Perhaps you should take a nap. Recover.”

“Two years. That’s all that separates us. Two fucking years, Sam,” Ash growled. “I swear I should’ve let this branch be dropped onto you.”

“If you two old coves are done bickering, I’m happy to lend some young muscle,” a familiar voice called over.

Sam spun around to see Bentley standing a short distance away, a sly smile curving his pretty face. And what looked very much like appreciation glinting in those amber eyes. Had he seen Sam’s display of strength? Oh, Sam hoped so.

“Bentley,” Ash greeted warmly and strode over to shake his future brother-in-law’s hand. “You don’t have to assist with this.”

“Technically, you don’t either, Your Grace,” Sam pointed out, following behind, the workers’ voices fading behind them as they walked out of earshot.

“I don’t mind,” Bentley quickly added. “It’s something I’d do on my own estate. I prefer being involved. Besides, there’s nothing like a bit of physical exertion to get the stresses of the day out, right?”

Sam grinned. Wasn’t that the truth? He caught Bentley’s gaze.

“I personally love physical exertion as an outlet.” The man’s cheeks immediately flushed, and delight bubbled up in Sam’s gut.

He was so bloody adorable when his freckles disappeared under a flush.

“Hauling around all this hard wood. Erecting thick beams. Coaxing the supports until they sink into place just right.”

Bentley stared at him bug-eyed, mouth open and closing wordlessly. While Ash bent over double laughing.

“Good Lord. What are you, five?” Bentley finally managed, the shock still evident in his wide-eyed gaze.

Sam shrugged. “No, I’m not five. I’m closer to twelve. Maybe fourteen on a good day.”

Ash straightened and let out a last whooof of laughter. He pointed at Sam. “Accurate.”

“God help me,” Bentley said, but he said it as his face split into a grin. He glanced toward the cottage. “So, what is the plan here?”

“We need to head inside and inspect the damage. I’m sure we’ll have some supports that need replacing.

Clear out any debris. The mason should be able to use the stone that was knocked out to rebuild the wall.

Then new thatch for the roof,” Sam said, pushing back his sweaty locks.

Bentley tracked the movement, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He liked a sweaty man, did he?

“We have to be careful,” Ash warned. “We don’t know how stable the damaged side of the cottage is. And as much as you annoy me, Sam, I don’t actually want you crushed beneath it.”

“No worries there, Your Grace. I’m well-practiced in handling large timber.”

Bentley shook his head, gaze lifting heavenward, but his lips twitched. He turned to Ash. “You have put up with this for two decades? I’m honestly in awe of your endurance.”

“Endurance?” Sam asked. “If you want to be awed by—”

“No,” Bentley said sternly, thrusting a finger in Sam’s direction. He turned back to Ash. “How do we make him stop?”

Ash chuckled. “I gave up a long, long time ago, Bentley.”

Sam shot them both his most dazzling smile.

“I’m a perfect angel. I have no idea what you oafs are talking about.

” And then he sidled up next to Bentley.

“I can show you a rather effective way of silencing me later, if you’re so inclined,” he whispered.

A strangled sound came from Bentley, and Sam bit his lip against his grin.

Sam headed in the direction of the cottage’s front door. “Let’s go. What are you two waiting for?”

The stable master beat him to the door, and Sam stepped in after him. He surveyed the damage with a low whistle.

“My thoughts exactly,” Barrow murmured.

The right side of the cottage where the branch had fallen was a mess.

The wooden planks on the floor were still wet in the small kitchen, which had taken the brunt of the wreckage.

Sam took a few steps forward. Soft too. There hadn’t been much inside the cottage since it was no longer used, but the few chairs, the table, and a bench were all covered in a sludge of debris.

“Well, first things first. We need some temporary supports put up,” Sam said, attention on the ceiling.

Ash stepped up to his side, following his gaze. “I’m surprised it’s still up there.”

The tree branch had broken clean through some of the rafters and damaged a beam. The support beam in question was sinking low in the middle, bowing precariously, with large fractures through the wood.

A couple of men walked in with temporary supports. Sam, Bentley, and Ash worked with the men to clear the area of the ruined furniture so they could erect the four pieces of timber that would act as a support until they could acquire a new beam.

“We need to rip up these wooden planks too. They’re a death trap with how slippery they are. Let’s get them out of the way before we get the supports up,” Barrow ordered.

The men grunted—a few groaned—their agreement.

With so many bodies working hard, it didn’t take long for the small space to heat up.

Before long, most were down to their shirtsleeves.

Sam ran the back of his arm across his forehead.

It came back streaked with grime. Dust was flying, sticking to their skin.

He glanced over at Bentley, who was currently assisting one of the tenants with carrying the ruined table out of the cottage.

His face was covered in a light coating of dust, his freckles nowhere to be seen.

His amber curls were tight with sweat, lawn shirt sticking to his sweat-soaked figure.

How was it possible for a man to be so tempting when he was covered in filth?

Sam wanted to eat the man. He let out a nearly inaudible whimper.

“Stop.”

Sam’s gaze shot to Ash. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your face says otherwise.” Ash chuckled softly. “You’re in so much trouble, Sam. If Bentley is anything like his sister…” He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You stand absolutely no chance, mate.”

They put up the temporary supports and gathered around the dilapidated beam. This wouldn’t be a simple task. The beam was extremely heavy, about Sam’s hand in diameter. They needed to knock it free from where it was secured without it cracking and falling on someone.

Barrow handed Sam a mason’s hammer. “You think you can get this thing loose?” Barrow jerked his chin toward the mortise and tenon joint.

The beam was cut at the ends to have a protruding tongue of wood to fit into the matching slot of the vertical support.

If Sam could knock the tongue out of the mortise, they could wrestle the damaged beam free and replace it when they had a new one made.

For now, the various temporary supports would hold the structure.