Page 14 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

S am tried not to stare at her, but she pulled his gaze like she’d cast some sort of enchantment on him.

She turned her head to the side, tucking a loose strand of ruby hair behind her ear.

His heart did not beat abnormally, but there was a throb somewhere else at the sight of Daisy Blakewood.

His brain could not rationalize the girl from his memory and the goddess who stood before him now.

The light from the hearth cast her in a warm glow, her hair shimmering with licks of flame, and the green in her eyes had gold flecks that caught the lamp light.

She still had her freckles. Only they weren’t cute and childlike, but tempting.

He wanted to brush his thumbs over them and kiss each one.

The thought, wholly inappropriate, should have cooled his ardor, but he wasn’t a man who denied himself his salacious thoughts and feelings. Not even when it was Blakewood’s sister standing before him.

She had bloomed like a rose, full-bodied and lush, soft and beguiling. Her lips were plump and pink.

“Would you like to play a game?” he asked. His tone was more seductive than he intended. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve never been good at cards.”

“I can show you a simple game Amelia and I played as children. But you’ll have to come closer.”

She approached slowly until she stood at his hip. Sam focused on his cards, gathering them up again and reshuffling. He passed her half the deck, and she raised both brows.

“How do I play?”

“We each set down a card. The highest card wins, and you keep it in a separate pile. When you run out of cards the person with the most cards at the end wins.”

“Seems simple enough.”

“It is. Are you familiar with the card faces?”

She nodded, and the firelight danced over her cheeks and mouth. He gripped his cards tighter.

“You go first,” he said.

She put down a card face up, and he set down his. “You win.”

She beamed, and the whole room brightened.

Those same shadows that had darkened his room before withered under her radiance.

If he could somehow rig the game to make her win every hand and never stop smiling, he would, but this game was pure chance.

Their piles grew and he finally set down his last card.

A two. He was certain she would beat him, and he counted the seconds until she set down her card.

An eight. Their gazes locked, and she bit her lip, smiling shyly.

His stomach hollowed, and he gripped the edge of the coverlet to keep from reaching for her.

It would be physically excruciating to reach across the small space between them and pull her toward him, but so was this lust churning inside his weakened body.

Why did she affect him like this? Was it his injury?

The weeks of celibacy? Perhaps this was a good sign.

His health must be returning. If he was tempted to seduce a woman, even one as undoubtably untouchable as Blakewood’s little sister, then he was ready to get out of this bed, get back on his feet, and take his life back.

She gathered her cards together, her gaze breaking from his. Color filled her cheeks, and Sam could have groaned. She was utterly gorgeous. Lovely, like a sunset whose beauty catches you off guard no matter how many times you’ve seen one.

That was Daisy.

Whatever was happening inside him wasn’t good, but he was too weak to stop this burgeoning infatuation.

As long as he didn’t act on it, these thoughts and feelings would simply be his secret, and bloody hell, it made him feel alive again.

He’d be damned if he’d deny himself her company after h e’d gone through so much.

He had so little to distract him from his misery—he would be selfish now without compunction or guilt.

“Daisy—may I call you Daisy?”

She nodded as she handed the stack of cards back to him.

His fingers brushed hers, and his chest squeezed painfully as he leaned closer to grab her hand so she couldn’t slip away too quickly.

An idea had struck him. Stupid and impulsive, yes, but just maybe brilliant as well.

And it would ensure him more of her company.

If tonight proved anything, it was that he couldn’t get stronger by himself. He needed someone to help him.

“Yes.” Her gaze dropped to their hands. His large hand nearly consumed hers.

“I need your help.”

“ My help?”

He nodded. “I need to regain my strength, but no one here will let me take more than a step away from this bed.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure I can help you.”

“You can. If you would come when no one else is around and help me up, I could get more exercise and recover much faster.”

She shook her head and bit her lip. Sam tugged her, and she landed beside him on the mattress with both hands next to his waist. The side of his chest felt like it was tearing open as he leaned closer, but he knew it was just his rib complaining.

He cupped the back of her head and smoothed his thumb over that bottom lip, tugging it free of her teeth.

Her wide eyes met his, and her breathing quickened.

He’d surprised her, but she wasn’t pulling away.

“You don’t know how serious this is. There is a lot at stake for me and I need to recover more swiftly than they will allow me. But it has to be in secret. Please.”

Her gaze wandered over his face and chest. “You don’t look that ill.”

“It is a complex situation. It looked like I was recovering before, but then my bleeding got worse, and I was going to die for certain if Dr. Sloan hadn’t performed his experimental surgery.

By all accounts, it’s miracle I’m alive, but the rumors that are presently shredding Amelia’s standing in society are also claiming I’m dead. ”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I can’t imagine what you are feeling.”

“Then you must imagine how terrified Amelia was. And your brother. They carried the burden of my injury alone and kept it secret from society as long as they could to prevent my aunt and cousin from making the situation drastically worse. But there isn’t anything more they can do for me. I need to do the rest on my own.”

“I still don’t know how I can help you.”

“I just need you to help steady me while I take steps, so I don’t fall and hurt myself like tonight.

A little at a time. I’m not expecting miracles.

But I need to regain my strength and stamina.

Only movement will do that. And they can’t know I’m doing this, or they’ll try and stop me.

I think Amelia would prefer to keep me in this bed forever if it meant I was safe. ”

She pressed her lips together, her eyes creased with worry, but then she nodded. “I suppose I could. To keep you from getting hurt again.”

Sam raised both brows. “You’ll help me?”

“I will. I can see why they are scared, but I can also see that you are well enough to move. You look quite virile to me.”

Sam had to stop himself from saying something about demonstrating his virility.

He’d already stopped himself from saying something about her nimble body because he knew she had not intended the innuendo.

However much he meant to enjoy her presence, this wasn’t a proposition.

He genuinely needed her to help him get out of this bed, not get her into it.

She had a fresh perspective the others did not.

They looked at him and remembered him dying. Daisy looked at him and saw him living.

“When do we begin?” she asked.

“Tomorrow. After breakfast, I’ll send Miss Smith down to the kitchens to do something while I rest. Petrov will be sent off to have my clothing tailored. And Dr. Sloan leaves tomorrow morning, so he won’t be a bother.”

Sam let go of her hand and he instantly missed the heat. Loneliness sat heavy in his stomach. He didn’t want her to leave, but she had to.

She stood and shook out her rumpled skirts. “Before I go, do you need anything? Water, perhaps?”

A hug. He wanted a hug now that his troubling emotions were bubbling up and he was about to be alone once again. But he didn’t want to pressure her into an unnatural closeness. They hardly knew each other, though he’d had the gall to ask her to secretly help him break Amelia’s rules.

“Why did you agree to help me?” he asked instead.

She bit her lip bashfully. “Lady Amelia taught me something today about good trouble.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Oh no.”

Daisy smiled at him. “Helping you get better in secret seems like the sort of good trouble she described.”

Sam smiled back at her. “Good trouble indeed.” But even good trouble was still trouble.

“Goodnight, Daisy.”

“Goodnight, Lord Alston.”

He shook his head. “We’re co-conspirators now. Call me Alston.”

She stepped back but didn’t turn away. “Goodnight, Alston.” Then she turned and left, taking all the light in the room with her.