Page 27 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

She looked down. “I’m sorry. If there had been any other way...”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. Let me grieve the loss of...”

Daisy came to mind. He’d never feel like that again, would he?

Not without ignoring his marriage vows—if he couldn’t find a way out of this arrangement after all.

He didn’t think he’d be a man who’d want to keep a mistress—not that he’d disgrace Daisy by asking her to be his mistress, but it would be impossible to ignore this yearning for her, even if he vowed to cherish another.

Once he re-entered society, how much longer would Mrs. Dove-Lyon wait before she dragged him to the altar?

He’d once asked his father, at the curious age of eight, why he’d never remarried, and Sam had never forgotten what his father had said.

“I could never love another woman the way I love your mother. That is a love so rare that it cannot be replicated. A once in a lifetime love. Anything else pales in comparison, and that is not something I wish to experience. I have you and Amelia, and that is enough.”

Sam was not a romantic by nature, but he’d still rather marry for love.

And he was only twenty-two. He had so much time to fall in love that he hadn’t been looking for it yet.

And he was not fool enough to hope that this mysterious woman the widow intended for him could somehow be the one for him, one he would love, not when he resented the very thought of her.

What kind of marriage began with dislike? A miserable one.

“Where’s Daisy?” Blakewood asked quietly.

“She’ll be up shortly,” Amelia replied.

Daisy.

Just her name speared him through the heart. If ever there was a woman who could inspire the sort of devotion and love his father had held for his mother, it was Daisy. And he couldn’t have her.

“If you two wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be alone,” he said.

Amelia and Blakewood shared a worried glance but nodded and left him.

“My lord?” Petrov peeked out from the dressing room. “Do you still wish to move rooms?”

“Yes. As soon as possible.”

“I’ll have everything ready by this evening. It’s time, I think, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“No. It’s time. You’re right.”

Petrov went back to work. Sam looked at his bed and then turned his back to it. He’d never sleep there again. Looking around the room, Sam’s skin began to itch. The walls pressed in, and he couldn’t bear to be in there one more moment.

He was done with this. He had to leave. Sam stood and took his cane in hand and went for the door, a flicker of doubt about his own stamina only pushing his rage further. He reached the handle, turned the knob and stepped out into the hall.

He exhaled with relief. He was in the hall.

After weeks, he was standing in the bloody hall, and he’d never seen a sight more beautiful.

He walked toward the back stairs, taking his time, admiring the carpet, the walls, the paintings of hunting dogs rambling through the woods.

When he got to the end he turned back and hesitated.

The master suite was here. The double doors were polished to a shine, the brass handles smudge free.

Sam put his hand on the handle, the brass warm under his palm like it was welcoming him.

“Alston?”

Daisy was there on the landing of the back stair, likely shocked to see him out of his room.

“What are you doing out here? Are you all right?”

“I am.” Now that you’re here. Daisy was everything that was bright and new in his life. A new beginning.

“I’m switching rooms. Would you like to see?”

She nodded and came to his side. Sam twisted the handle and pushed the door wide. The smell of linseed oil and lemon hit his nose. The curtains were pulled back, light spilling into the room. This side of the house looked over the back garden.

Sam waved her in, and she entered slowly, looking around the room. “Is this the master suite?”

“It is.”

“Why haven’t you taken it before?”

“I didn’t want to. I’d spent most of my boyhood in the other room, but now I can’t bear another minute in there. I’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

Sam entered, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of his father. The spicy scent of his shaving soap still hung in the air like he’d just been here. Sam’s throat tightened as he approached the desk where his father had worked at night.

Daisy went to the hearth, touching the small frames and figures on the mantel. His grandfather used to whittle dogs. Three sat there in various positions, sniffing, pointing their nose, and howling at the sky.

“Is this you and Amelia?” Daisy asked.

Sam walked to where she stood. He waited for the weakness, the dizziness, for the reminder that he was ill and injured, but it didn’t come. Today was the first day he felt well.

Daisy looked back and smiled at him, pointing to the small painting of him and Amelia as infants, held in his father’s arms.

Daisy grinned at it, touching the gold frame lightly with her fingertip.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d set eyes on that picture.

Perhaps not since his father died. He had known this room was cared for, in preparation for him and out of love and loyalty for his father, but he’d never been able to step foot in here until this moment.

And Daisy stood with him. Like she belonged here. His father would have adored Daisy—it was impossible not to—and she just fit. A bright gem in the warm muted colors of the browns and creams.

The urge to kiss her overwhelmed him and he had no reason to fight it. Or rather, he stubbornly refused to.

He cupped the back of her neck and turned her toward him. She startled in surprise when he touched her, but her smile never faltered. She trusted him that much? She shouldn’t—his mood was dark, needy, and he didn’t give a damn about all the reasons he shouldn’t kiss her anymore.

Her eyes lifted to his as he drew her closer, tipping her head back to hold his gaze. Only at the last second did her smile wobble. Her eyes widened slightly, and she sucked in a breath before his lips touched hers.

Daisy melted into him, proving to him once more how right she was for him.

Her mouth opened without question, and he took and took and took.

Every thought about his life and the bleak future he didn’t want slipped away under a tide of ardent need.

He knew that this kiss would be the beginning of something fiery and passionate.

Sam was no saint, but his seduction of Daisy would earn him a special seat beside the devil. Because in doing so, he was breaking the contract. He was throwing his honor aside and claiming what he wanted.

Daisy.

Sweet, delectable, Daisy. She was all that he needed. This wasn’t just want. No, this was a need .

Holding her neck with one hand, he sent the other gliding down the back of her dress, over the curve of her hip and bringing her tightly against him where he was already hard.

This time he’d let her feel it. With their height difference, her skirts would not disguise the ridge of his arousal.

She’d feel it against her lower belly, and he was animal enough to enjoy that fact.

She did not squirm away, but she did lose her concentration.

Sam grinned into the kiss as he devoured her mouth.

Her hands floated over his shoulders, but less confident than before, and he would not tolerate that.

He broke the kiss and panted into her hair.

“Daisy,” he said, his voice ravaged with need. He wanted to sink into the warmth of her body. Under his hand her hips were soft and round. She looked innocent, but that was only because she’d been stifled. She was all woman, and her body was made for him to worship.

“Sam, you said we shouldn’t . . .”

“I was wrong.” He looked down at her, her rosy, wet lips calling to him.

“Wrong about what?”

“This, us. You. I thought that denying myself was somehow the right thing to do, but I’m not even sure what that is anymore. Or maybe I don’t care what is right or wrong when it comes to you. I just need you.”

“Sam... are you feeling all right?” She touched a hand to his forehead and Sam moved it to cup around his neck.

That’s where it belonged, and he wouldn’t deny himself anymore.

He’d had everything taken from him and he was in no mood to sacrifice anything else.

He was going to take from now on. Take his life back, his control, his desires.

“Daisy, tell me honestly how you feel about me. Not as your brother’s friend, or Amelia’s brother, but me. Why do you submit to my touches, my kisses, why do you laugh at my insufferable humor, why do you look at me like you want me? I need to know.”

“Sam,” she said in a whisper, “I don’t know what to say. I... I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“Please try. Because if you don’t feel the way I do, then I’d have to let you go, and if I do that, I think it might just kill me.”

Her eyes searched his, and he prayed he hadn’t frightened her. She was not used to men like him, to emotions like this that battered the body physically and emotionally.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” she whispered. “I want you to touch me, kiss me, all those things. I look at you because I want you. I can’t stop it. I shouldn’t feel this way, I know.”

He dipped his head and kissed her again. He didn’t need to hear more. That was enough for now.

There was a scuff and then a creak in the hall.

Sam lifted his mouth from hers. “Bollocks.”

She covered her mouth. Voices followed, first Petrov, then Mr. Chase.

Sam set her back from him. He turned her and nudged her down into a wingback chair by the hearth, then he sank into the other.

Petrov entered first, his gaze sweeping the room swiftly, followed by Mr. Chase.

Tension knotted in Sam’s gut. Petrov wasn’t fooled, which meant Chase wasn’t either. But what would the spy do about it?

Mr. Chase said inspected the room like it might hide assassins.

“Mr. Chase, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Sam said dryly.

Mr. Chase’s blue eyes landed on him like sharp blades. “I see you’re changing rooms?”

“I needed a change of scenery.”

“Miss Blakewood. How do you do?”

“I am very well, Mr. Chase. And you?”

“Splendid,” he said, his tone just as sarcastic as Sam’s. “I do need a private word with his lordship if you don’t mind.”

She hopped to her feet. “Of course. I’ll return once you’re settled.”

“At dinner,” Sam said.

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Good day, Mr. Chase.”

“Good day, Miss Blakewood.”

Petrov carried a trunk into the dressing room and exited again.

“Well?” Sam asked.

Mr. Chase’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing on Sam as he took the chair Daisy vacated. “I had my suspicions, but I didn’t take you for a fool, Lord Alston.”

Sam raised a brow. “Suspicions? About what?”

Chase crossed his ankles. He pulled a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it. “She’s stunning. A man would have to be dead not to notice.”

“Get on with it, Chase.”

“If you renege on the contract, the price will be steep.”

Sam ground his teeth. “I didn’t agree to it. Why should I be held to it?”

“For your sister’s sake.”

“What sort of matchmaker takes advantage of men on their deathbeds? What if I’d died? Then what?”

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon knew it was a risk.”

“If you’re here to make threats, get on with it.”

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon is not a woman to be toyed with. Normally I’d say have your fun, but not with a genteel lady like Miss Blakewood.

And I’m assuming her brother doesn’t yet know you’re preying upon his innocent sister.

I feel a bit protective myself, since I too have a sister, and I’m certain you would feel the same, Lord Alston, if Mr. Blakewood behaved as you have. We have more in common than you think.”

Sam’s hackles rose. She wasn’t Chase’s to protect. She was Sam’s. “She doesn’t need anything from you. We’re both capable of knowing what we want.”

“And what is she going to get from you? Not a marriage, that’s for certain. Does she know you’re betrothed? Does she know this can never be anything more than an affair of the heart? Is your heart involved or just your cock?”

Sam leaned forward in the chair. “If I were half as strong as I used to be, you’d be unconscious by now.

What happens between Daisy and me is none of your concern.

” His heart was more than involved, but he’d never admit it to Chase.

His heart wanted, it craved, it would only keep beating as long as Daisy was his.

This longing coursing through him, this fever of desire—it wasn’t mere lust. He loved her.

Even if his cock never worked properly again, he loved her, and he’d dedicate his life to her pleasure and happiness.

“That’s where you are wrong,” Chase said sternly.

“It’s messy, and I clean up messes professionally.

You’ll put an end to it now, if you have any sense.

And do it graciously, or I’ll have Mrs. Dove-Lyon do it for you.

There’s no telling what her brother would do to you if he found out. Have you no fear after facing death?”

“I don’t think I do. I lost everything.”

Chase snorted and waved around the room. “Hardly.”

“On the surface, no. But in my heart? What would you do? Would you submit gracefully to the will of another? Somehow, I don’t think you would.”

“You have no idea what I’ve done or what I’ve lost. Forgive me if I don’t sympathize.”

“I won’t. I don’t expect anything of you.”

“Let me be clear. You end this or I will.”

Never, his heart said. Sam bit back a grin. “Or what? What could the woman possibly do? Expel me from the club? She cannot force my hand.”

“Do not underestimate her. It’s not just about you, but the other persons involved, your sister, your friend, and now Miss Blakewood. Do you want to drag them down with you?”

“I don’t take kindly to threats, and I won’t be blackmailed.”

“This isn’t a game you can win. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You will act swiftly, or I will act for you.” Chase stood and straightened his coat. “Frankly, I’m disappointed in you.” Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I thought you more honorable than to take advantage of an innocent woman.”

“Question my honor again and I’ll call you out.”

Chase chuckled and walked out. Sam fisted his hands, wishing they were wrapped around that rat’s neck.

He ran a hand through his hair and stared blankly at the empty hearth. Just for a moment he’d had something wonderful in his grasp, and it was already slipping away. What was he going to do? Fight for it, that’s what. He loved her and he was not going to lose her.