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“I can take a few swings,” Bentley murmured. Sam’s stare snapped to his left, not having realized Bentley had approached.

Barrow eyed Bentley up and down. “If you two alternate, we’ll have that ol’ thing down in no time. Not often we have someone close to your size, Thorne.”

They worked the joints loose with a hammer and chisel and then set up a ladder under one side of the beam.

Sam climbed up, Bentley holding the ladder steady while Sam took the first swings.

The timber creaked on the initial blow. Large clouds of dust burst into the space with each impact.

But the thing barely budged. Sam swung until the muscles in his shoulder burned like they’d been pressed with a cattle iron.

He lowered the hammer to Bentley, who took it immediately.

He shook his arm out as he stepped down.

“Hope you have better luck than I did,” Sam said raggedly.

Bentley met Sam’s gaze, amber eyes gleaming. “I’m sure you loosened it right up for me.”

Sam’s jaw slackened. Had Bentley just made a naughty jest ? Bentley winked and then popped onto the ladder. Bloody hell. The man was making it too easy to forget all the reasons why Sam didn’t like him. Sam wasn’t so sure there were any reasons left.

He shook off that thought and held the ladder steady.

He took advantage of his position and took in the gorgeous man above him.

Bentley’s strong thighs flexed as he braced his body before each swing.

The linen of his shirt, sheer from sweat, stretched taut every time he launched his arm forward.

Every so often, he gave those amber curls a rough shake, angrily tossing them out of his eyes.

Sam’s hand itched to be able to do the task himself.

Bentley landed a particularly punishing blow, and the beam shifted a good inch. Progress! The beam gave another creak. Bentley paused and stretched his neck from side to side.

“Want to switch?” Sam asked.

Bentley shook his head and poised for another swing.

Definitely not a soft-handed idle lord. Not even bloody close.

He landed another blow, and a soft crackling threaded into the heavy breathing and encouraging cheers from the crew.

Sam’s gaze flew to the center of the beam, the fracture in the wood larger than before.

“Lord Bentley,” Sam said urgently. This wasn’t going to work. The beam was too close to—

An ear-splitting snap rent through the cottage.

Fuck. Sam threw his arms around Bentley’s waist and wrenched him backward.

Shouts and yells filled the small cottage.

He thrust Bentley away, just as half of the beam came swinging down.

Sam dove atop the man, cradling his arms over their heads, trying to create a protective cage.

A deafening crash rang around them, wood exploding, and Sam couldn’t tell if the entire cottage was shaking or if it just felt that way inside his skull.

Debris whipped against his legs, across his head.

Nothing too heavy, but bleeding hell, it stung like the blazes.

Silence settled, but a ringing still continued in Sam’s ears.

He glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes to see through the dust-shroud room.

And there was the beam, ladder completely destroyed, in bits and pieces strewn about the cottage—exactly where he and Bentley had just been standing.

Curses and hoarse calls asking after everyone’s welfare echoed through the space.

He sagged slightly, relief melting his frame at seeing no one around the fallen beam. He turned back to Bentley, then quickly rose up on his knees, cautious not to be too close to the man for too long in public company.

Sam assisted Bentley up and tugged him close enough to whisper, “Are you well?” He pulled back and searched the man’s face. Black pupils drowned amber irises, the flush previously donning those high cheekbones completely gone, skin now pale as parchment.

Bentley nodded jerkily. “Fine. I’m fine.” But the response was unthinking, like he wasn’t truly there.

Ash hurried over and corralled them over to a corner of the room, away from others. “Bloody hell. Bentley.” He clamped a hand on the man’s shoulder and scoured every inch of him. “Are you all right? Thank God, Thorne’s quick on his feet. Fucking hell.”

Bentley shook his head and seemed to come out of his stupor. “I’m fine,” he said again. Bentley met Sam’s gaze, and something Sam couldn’t quite name reflected back at him. “Thanks to Thorne,” Bentley added softly, before his gaze slipped away.

Sam wasn’t certain he believed the man, but anyone would be shaken up after an accident like that. Sam would just keep a close eye on Bentley to make sure he hadn’t suffered any injuries and ensure the shock faded.

Apparently, Sam’s concern must have been obvious.

“ I’m well, ” Bentley said with more force.

“A man needs a moment after he’s almost crushed to death by a falling hunk of timber.

” He winged a brow, and a bit of his usual pompous-self resurfaced, color seeping back into his previously wan pallor.

“Careful, Thorne. I could almost believe you’re starting to care about me. ”

Sam was afraid it was already too late for that.