Page 26 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

T wo days passed and Sam could now stride the length of his room with a cane.

His legs were tired, but he felt better every day.

Daisy still came by frequently, helping him stroll around the room, and keeping his mind occupied with memories of their kiss.

He knew she was thinking about it too. He’d catch her staring at him, her eyes unfocused, sucking on her bottom lip, and he’d have to turn away and silence a groan.

He needed a change of scenery to stave off this unrelenting wave of lust. That kiss had done more harm than good for both of them.

It haunted him, day and night, clinging to his thoughts.

No woman had ever left him this enthralled.

But Daisy wasn’t just any woman. She was temptation.

Risk. Life. He didn’t realize how little he’d enjoyed being alive since waking up from his injury until she’d walked into his room.

Anger and restlessness had consumed him.

But then there she was, casting away the shadows with her smile, her vivid eyes.

He understood now why Hades dragged Persephone to the underworld and refused to let her go.

And now that they’d kissed, the claws of his infatuation had sunk deeper.

He wanted something that could not be his, and it pushed him beyond reason.

What was he willing to do to keep her? How desperate had he become?

Would this all-consuming desire ever come to an end?

Was he debilitatingly hungry for her because of his having been near death?

Or was this just a symptom of his boredom and dissatisfaction?

Those were the thoughts that made him stay his hand.

As much as he wanted to push that boundary and give in to his need for her, he reigned it back with just as much force.

She was not a woman of experience. Every kiss shared would only make her think that they could have a future together, and that was impossible.

Today, Amelia agreed to let Sam meet with his new man of business. Mr. Jergen had been writing relentlessly, asking to meet with Sam, and finally, she had given in. Sam was fully dressed now and pacing his room.

“You should be sitting,” Amelia said.

“I should be taking this meeting in my study. I should have had this meeting two weeks ago.”

“You could barely stand two weeks ago. Answering letters left you exhausted.”

Sam marshalled his anger. As he had begun to feel better, it became harder and harder to remember to disguise it. “I know. But I can’t be expected to improve without effort. You have to allow it.”

She fisted her hands at her side. “Samuel Everett Clark. I watched you die. I watched the color leach from your body. I can barely stand to look at your bed because—” She stopped and shook her head angrily at him.

Sam knew she was holding back a litany of insults and emotion.

Amelia couldn’t seem to let go of the idea he could die at any moment.

And Sam could see why. Which was all the more reason Sam needed to get back to his living his life, even if he still needed to modify what that looked like as he hid the speed of his recovery.

In truth, they all needed to get out of this house—hell, out of this room.

He might finally move himself to the master suite after this was all said and done.

If not sooner. Maybe today? He considered the thought.

He’d always left it the way his father had kept it.

It was regularly cleaned, his watches, cufflinks, cravat pins, still there in the dressing room. But now, perhaps it was time.

“Petrov,” Sam said. “I’d like to move to the master’s suite today.” Amelia unclenched her hands. “We both must move on from this, Lia. I can’t live another day in this room. I almost died here, and I’m tired of being reminded of that fact every day.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be stronger.”

He approached her and took her hands. “You’re the strongest woman I know, and I am proud to be your brother. But we have to let go of this fear. You keep looking at me like I’m a ghost. Like as soon as I leave this room I’ll disappear. But I won’t. I’m still here and I’m alive because of you.”

He pulled her into his chest, and she wiped at a stray tear. He patted her back until she pulled away. Petrov handed her a handkerchief. Sam let her go and Blakewood entered, followed by an older, bald man.

“Is everything all right?” Blakewood asked as he put a hand on Amelia’s lower back.

“It’s fine,” she said. “But I won’t be staying for this. Excuse me.”

Blakewood looked after her and then turned to Sam. “Do you want me to stay or go?”

“You can stay,” Sam said. “Mr. Jergen, I presume?”

The bald man nodded. “Yes, my lord. I see you are indeed alive.”

“As alive as I can be,” Sam returned. “Have a seat.”

The table had been moved away from the bed, sitting before the windows with the curtains opened and fresh spring sunshine spilling into the room, the breeze filling the air with the scent of a few early roses.

“We have much to discuss. Did you receive my letters? I had hoped to meet with you much sooner. Though I must say Mr. Blakewood has been a great deal of help in getting your records and the like from Mr. Crest. Mr. Crest seems to believe you are deceased.”

Sam barked out a laugh, then grabbed his side with a curse. His rib apparently took offense to the levity. It was getting better, but sudden movements still punched like the devil.

“My lord?” Mr. Jergen asked in concern.

“I have a broken rib that is still mending. Hardly life threatening, though it takes a bloody long time to heal. As for Mr. Crest, he was dismissed by my sister and refused entry into the house. He was being influenced by my cousin Nelson, my current heir. Lady Amelia rightly thought him to be disloyal. Even now she is still protective regarding who is allowed to enter.”

Mr. Jergen nodded. “Would it help if she were removed to her own—”

“She is my twin,” Sam cut the man off before he could suggest anything offensive. “She will not be pushed out of her childhood home. Without Lady Amelia’s support, I would not be alive.”

Mr. Jergen dipped his chin. “My apologies if I have offended you or your sister.”

“She is not a woman who bends to the will of others, Mr. Jergen, and she does not break.”

“Yes, I see that now. However, in the absence of others within society who have seen you recently alive, Mr. Clark has taken to using your title in public without repercussion from you and has been spending on credit against the Alston estate.”

Sam nodded. “As I suspected. I need to get out of this house and back in the public eye.”

“That will certainly reinvigorate the rumor mill,” Blakewood warned. “Two Lord Alstons?”

Sam grinned. “Good. He deserves to be humiliated in public.”

“Your Aunt Ruth will suffer as well.”

“I know. She’ll lose her position in society. But what can I do? For too long she has plagued Amelia, trying to force a marriage Amelia didn’t want to Nelson, and now this? I’m in no mood to forgive. Amelia isn’t either.”

Blakewood sighed and nodded. “Then what is the next step?”

“I could go outside right now,” Sam offered.

Blakewood snorted.

Sam turned a glare on him.

“I’m being practical, as should you. You’ve been in bed for weeks.

You’ve been learning to walk the space of your room.

If you attempt those stairs, you might break your neck.

I watched you fall from that horse and I’m not keen to see you fall again.

Please bear with us, Sam. You haven’t seen you from our perspective. ”

“I also prefer you not injure yourself further, my lord,” Mr. Jergen said.

“As long as Lady Amelia will allow me entry, we can conduct your business here. I’ll send notices to the shops currently allowing Mr. Clark to purchase on Alston credit and inform them that you will not be responsible for his debts. ”

Sam nodded and turned to Blakewood. “And what would you suggest I do with Nelson?”

“We can arrange a meeting with him in public, somewhere many people will see you both together. I’ll lure him there under a false name to ensure his presence, claiming to have proof you’re dead. Until then, keep walking and regaining your strength.”

Sam grinned. “I think Amelia is influencing you.”

After a few more points of business, he concluded his meeting with Mr. Jergen, and Blakewood went to check on Amelia.

Now that Sam was alone, he sat in his chair by the hearth and thought about what Blakewood had said.

He was playing a delicate game, but it was the only way he could try to prevent his marriage from happening.

He needed time to figure out a way to stop it, time he would only be given as long as he remained weak and helpless.

Yet for the sake of his family and title, he needed to be capable enough to take care of his business affairs and to be seen outside.

Amelia entered, spotting him by hearth, and Blakewood followed a moment later. “I can’t believe you want to meet with Nelson. He doesn’t deserve to speak to you after what he’s done.”

Sam rubbed his brow. “It’s the only way to quiet him once and for all.”

“He won’t be silent until you’ve heirs to replace him. Only then will he slink away.”

“Then I’d best get on with that,” Sam grumbled. “Though, if I don’t have the stamina to make it downstairs, then I can’t bed a—”

“Alston,” Blakewood warned.

Sam narrowed a glare at him. “She’s a married woman. We don’t have to pretend for the sake of her innocent ears.”

“He’s right,” Amelia said. “I’m under no illusions about what happens between men and women, dear husband .”

Sam turned away. He didn’t need that reminder.

“Perhaps it is fortuitous that you already have a wife waiting?” Amelia said.

“Don’t,” Sam snapped at her. “You didn’t want to be forced to marry and neither do I. You go to bed every night next to someone you love. I’m being forced to marry a stranger.”