Page 59

Sam

“Shite!” Felix tugged hard on Sam’s hand. “Hurry, this way, before we’re drowned rats.” He took off through the field they’d been walking through.

Sam shook the rain out of his face and hurried to follow.

He glanced up at the angry grey sky, the myriad shades blurring together from the raindrops obscuring his vision.

Bloody England. Sam ran hard after Felix.

The man was fast, and Sam had quite a bit more bulk to lug around than the svelte man heading for the Bentley gardens.

Apparently, Sam and Felix’s decision to risk the weather and stretch their legs with a leisurely stroll around the Bentley property had been a poor one.

It was grey every bloody day, so how was one ever supposed to know if it was going to storm?

Sam entered the garden just as Felix’s form disappeared behind a hedge where the path curved.

Sam’s favorite season was autumn, and he’d wanted to enjoy the sights.

The foliage was all changing colors, like an artist had swept his brush over the landscape, swirling shades of burnt oranges, moody reds, and vibrant golds.

The air was crisp, with a slight chill, refreshing on the lungs.

It was tight and sharp in his chest as he ran, like a cleanse with each breath.

But it also meant getting caught in a rainstorm was blasted freezing. Cold rain trickled down Sam’s back, and he shivered. But Bentley had just reached a set of double French doors and was throwing them open. Shelter.

“In here!” Fee called over his shoulder, then disappeared inside.

Sam stepped through a moment later, a wall of warmth immediately hitting him, along with the sharp scent of citrus, cedar, and musty earth.

He quickly shut the doors behind him and leaned back against them, breaths bursting from him.

Felix, bent over double, hands on his knees, was desperately trying to catch his own breath.

A toothy grin split his freckled face, and he chuckled between ragged inhalations.

His amber hair was plastered to his face.

He looked like a dog just dunked in a pond. A very adorable one.

“We should have known better,” Felix said through gasps. “That sky had looked ominous. But you and your bloody leaves.”

It hadn’t just been wanting to enjoy the foliage, though. Sam was becoming increasingly antsy. Their month was almost up, and they hadn’t had any sort of discussion about what happened next. So, the thought of walking off the nerves had seemed like a bloody swell idea.

But Felix didn’t know all of that, so instead Sam said, “If you don’t like the colors of autumn, then you clearly have no soul.”

There he went again, hiding behind blasé.

Felix hadn’t given Sam any reason to doubt his feelings, had given Sam every reason to believe they were genuine.

It was just so blasted difficult to believe.

Sam’s family hadn’t loved him, a love that should have been incontestable.

He wanted to move past it, the wall of his own making that he’d erected all those years ago.

But, bloody hell, he’d built it so damned well.

And both he and Fee had been performing an intricate dance around the subject, like Fee was avoiding it, too. What they had right now was so perfect. Sam hadn’t wanted to risk anything touching that.

Felix sniggered and straightened. His cheeks were a fetching pink over his freckles, amber eyes that fiery whisky Sam loved.

The one that meant the man before him was feeling playful.

Christ. The formidable Earl of Bentley. Was playful.

Sam fucking loved it. He wanted to drink in every bit of this man he could, just like the thirsty earth outside.

Which was why he’d chosen to live in blissful ignorance until the clock forced his hand.

Every day showed Sam a new side of Felix. This month had been one discovery after another. And each one had all made it clear—this man was nothing like Sam’s first impression.

Said man, currently sauntering up to Sam, had a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Sam cocked his head, peering suspiciously at a Fee who very much looked like he was up to no good.

Felix pressed up against him, hands coasting over Sam’s torso and behind his back. “You look nice…all wet,” he said softly.

A click rang out, and then Sam was stumbling backward—straight into the freezing deluge outside. The storm swallowed his sharp gasp. Felix followed in a rush, hands on Sam’s chest, shoving until they stood in the middle of the garden path, ice-cold rain pouring down on them.

“Felix,” Sam yelled over the thunderous drumming of the rain, his body shuddering beneath the chill. “What in the bloody hell are you doing?”

Felix’s lips chattered as he grinned. Then he threw his arms around Sam’s neck, and his mouth crashed down on Sam’s. And Sam was thrown off balance once again. Thrown off by the storm of emotions competing with the one that raged around them.

Felix kissed Sam harder, tongue dancing with his.

But it wasn’t an urgent kiss, not one born of need.

No. The way Felix’s fingers twisted into Sam’s hair, the way his body pressed into Sam like skin-to-skin wasn’t close enough.

It wasn’t lust or desire. It was what had been the final catalyst in Sam falling for this man.

It was passion. It was feeling . If a kiss could embody love… Christ, surely this one did?

Sam’s heart hammered in his chest, and now he wasn’t sure if he couldn’t hear because of the rainstorm or the blood drumming in his ears.

His hands went to Felix’s arse, soaking-wet breeches clinging tightly to every muscled curve.

He tugged Felix closer, their warm bodies protecting them from the chilly droplets beating down on them.

Their kiss eased, turned soft, and then Felix pulled away.

A grin broke free on Fee’s face, dimples flashing through a curtain of rain.

Sam’s ability to breathe deserted him. He swallowed thickly, emotion clogging his throat.

What a sight this man was. Raindrops gathered in long amber lashes, freckles stark against his chilled pale skin, lips a deep pink and swollen.

“W-What are you doing?” Sam managed, covering the surge of emotion with a chuckle. “What is this?” He waved his arms around them, indicating to the torrent they currently stood in. A deafening crack of thunder shattered the air, and their eyes flew wide.

Felix grabbed Sam’s hand and started walking backward, hurriedly leading Sam to the orangery they’d just before taken shelter in. “Probably best we get back inside to safety,” he yelled.

He turned, opened the doors, and strode into the building, and Sam rushed after him. He closed the doors on the storm, instantly overtaken by the silence of the orangery.

Then he prowled up to Felix and tugged on the man’s dripping waistcoat, gaze falling to the puddle quickly forming at their feet.

“So? Are you going to tell me what that brief lapse of sanity was about? Not that I’ll ever complain about a kiss.

” He dropped his voice. “But I would have been more than happy to do that here.”

“Come n-now, Sam,” Felix scoffed between chattering teeth.

“You’re telling me you’re a man who loves crisp autumn mornings, the changing colors of the s-s-season, but you don’t think everyone ought to kiss in the rain?

” His lips hooked up in a cheeky half-smile.

“If you don’t like kissing in the r-rain, then you clearly have no soul. ” Then the playful bastard winked.

The saucy cove.

Sam grazed his nose alongside Felix’s. “Fee… Are you telling me you’re a bit of a secret romantic?” Because Sam-the-utter-sap melted at the thought.

Sam loved little things like that. Small things like kissing in the rain.

Things like how in the groggy haze of morning, when they were still half-asleep, Felix would reach up to smooth back Sam’s sleep-tousled hair.

How, without Sam having said a word, raspberry tarts started making an appearance during meals and whenever refreshments were served.

Bloody hell. They needed to have the dreaded conversation.

Sam was going to go crazy if he didn’t find out where Felix stood.

His chest tightened. He had to believe, based on how they’d been this past month, Felix would want him to stay.

He had to. A tremor stole over him, but he didn’t think it was the residual chill.

Please, God, let me have this man.

“There are a few fireplaces kept lit to heat the orangery. Come, let’s stay warm by one until the storm lightens enough that we can make it back to the manor.”

Felix softly pressed his lips to Sam’s, then linked their hands and led Sam down a path shrouded in leafy green plants sitting on wrought iron shelving.

The orangery was dim from the darkening storm, only faint light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows and glass-paned roof.

The muted drumming rain was the only sound besides the soft thud of their boots on the slate floor.

They weaved through an aisle of fruit trees, citrus heavy in the humid air, and then came to a small opening at one end of the greenhouse, where a small fireplace offered a cozy glow against the chill.

They fought with their wet coats and finally managed to extricate themselves. They hung them to dry and then settled atop a bench they’d dragged over to the fireplace, huddling close to each other and holding their hands before the warmth emanating from the hearth.

Sam cleared his throat. “I received a letter from Ash this morning.”

Felix’s gaze shot to Sam’s, a question lingering in his amber irises.

“He and your sister plan to leave Brackenridge Hollow in a week’s time.”