Page 36 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

D aisy yawned, the book in her lap failing to hold her interest as she waited for Sam and her brother to return. Sam had been gone most of the day and during that time, a message arrived from Lady Claystone.

Miss Blakewood,

I have heard dangerous gossip about Lord Alston.

He was seen in public today, making a spectacle of himself.

It is time to remove yourself from that household at once if the young lord is recovered.

It is fortunate that Cliffton will arrive the day after tomorrow.

You will come to tea then and reunite with your faithful fiancé.

It is time to begin the wedding preparations.

Octavia Claystone

Daisy shuddered. She hadn’t written back. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to pretend she’d never gotten the summons, not until she had a chance to talk to Sam. He would calm her fears. He would know what to do.

Dinner had been a quiet affair with only her and Amelia.

Daisy hadn’t been able to bring herself to mention the note.

The moment she did, she knew chaos would reign.

So, Daisy had kept it to herself, trying to hold on to her hope for one more day.

They’d played cards in the drawing room before retiring, but Daisy couldn’t stand to wait in her room.

She settled into the large chair by the drawing room hearth, staring at the flames and wondering whether if she burned the letter, she could then pretend it had never been received.

The house grew quieter, and the servants drifted off to their own beds.

Daisy suspected they’d forgotten about her, but then again, they didn’t miss much.

They’d left the candle burning in the hall, knowing at some time their lord would return.

Daisy hoped it would be soon. Her eyelids were growing heavy.

The click of the front door startled her awake.

She’d dosed off, her cheek on her fist. Quiet murmurs, the deep voices of men, came from the hall.

Daisy peeked around the chair but could only see shadows.

One drifted past the doorway of the drawing room and disappeared, the other loomed in the doorway, then entered, stepping into the glow of the oil lamp.

The light gilded Sam’s curls in heavenly licks of gold and Daisy bit her cheek.

She should say something, shouldn’t she?

He turned his head in her direction as if hearing her thoughts. Then he doused the lamp and Daisy gasped as the room was swallowed in shadows, except for her little haven of warmth and light here by the hearth.

“Sam!” she whispered. She heard his quiet chuckle as he moved around the room.

“This isn’t amusing. What if you trip?”

“You’re in my chair,” he said directly behind the tall back.

“Oh, here.” She stood. He came around the padded arm and sat. Daisy smiled, overjoyed to see him, though he was looking weary and a little mussed. Amelia said they’d gone to the Den to speak with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. She couldn’t tell if that endeavor had gone well by his closed expression.

“How was your evening?” she asked.

“It’s better now.” He grabbed her hips and turned her, tugging her into his lap, her back to his chest. He nuzzled her neck and undid the coiled braid on her head, dropping pins haphazardly.

“Sam!” Daisy whispered again, scandalized by his hungry touch but also melting from the inside.

He lived in her mind, inappropriate and sinful visions filling her head of what it would be like when they married, if they married.

She hated that her doubt still lingered.

She didn’t buck the rules, yet here she was, poised to attempt to break an engagement. Cliffton would be here all too soon.

She didn’t want to dwell on it. Whatever action she was to take could wait a few more hours.

His lips blazed a path across the back of her neck. “You wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”

“Will you tell me?”

“I don’t want to think about it right now. I have you right where I want you.”

Her heart skipped. His voice settled her nerves, the deep, sultry tone heating her blood, and now all she could think about was his hands on her body.

His kisses sent chills down her spine and Daisy arched, her bottom pressing to his lap where she could feel the stiffening line of his arousal.

His hand had been roaming over her stomach but as she turned her head toward his, he cupped her breast, and his hips bucked against her rear.

He let out a shaky exhale, his breath feathering over the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder. Daisy reflexively swiveled her hips in answer to his and he moaned.

He softly bit down on her neck and her skin erupted in prickles.

“Sam,” Daisy gasped.

He soothed the gentle bite with his tongue.

“We’re not private here.”

“Everyone is asleep,” he said.

“You don’t know that!” she hissed half-heartedly.

One of them had to be reasonable, remember, and it wouldn’t be him.

He was a fallen angel, intent to corrupt and sin, but she too eagerly wanted to fall from grace with him.

She was learning a lot about herself in a very short time.

He’d unleashed her, shown her parts of herself she hadn’t known existed, wants, needs, desires, sensations.

She’d been so deprived. Feeling forever unwanted because of Cliffton. It had been impossible not to think she was the reason, especially when Lady Claystone reprimanded her for every little error she made. But now...

“I do know it,” Sam said. “It was established long ago that my household need not wait up for my return. They can leave a candle on the hall table, and I’ll let myself in.”

He licked up the side of her neck and Daisy swallowed a moan. His tongue on her skin... she wanted it all over.

“We’re completely alone.”

Daisy moved her hips as he pressed his hardness to her.

“What should we do?” Daisy asked.

He released his grip on her breast to put both hands on her hips, holding her down as he ground into her bottom. Her thighs squeezed together, aching for friction and pressure.

“Touch me,” she said in a voice she did not recognize as her own, it was breathy and agonized with painful need.

His breath caught in her ear, and he released her hips.

He gathered up her skirt, his hands raking over her thighs as he spread them wider.

The heat thrown from the hearth bathed her in warmth as he coated his fingers in her arousal and pressed one inside her.

Daisy lifted her hips, wanting more pressure.

His thumb brushed her sensitive peak, the pleasure so acute it bordered on pain every time he touched her there.

But the moment he stopped she wanted more.

She wanted to be possessed by him, consumed in this need until there was nothing left of her.

He added another finger, the stretch and filling of her body building the intensity of her yearning. She had no shame, no fear, when she was in his arms. Nothing existed beyond Sam and his touch. This was where she belonged, where she truly felt at home, in her skin and in her heart.

Daisy arched and dug her hand underneath her lower back to touch him.

He bucked into her hold and groaned. “ Daisy .”

Daisy smiled. “I want to know how to pleasure you.”

“Pleasuring you is my pleasure,” he said, his tongue trailing along the sensitive curve of her ear. What she wouldn’t give to feel his tongue between her legs again.

“Sam,” Daisy moaned.

He chuckled devilishly into her ear. “You’re at my mercy.”

He increased the tempo of his fingers, his palm grinding against her with a twisting motion and Daisy couldn’t hold back the sounds that came from her. But what she could do was torture him back.

Daisy squeezed her fingers around his cock as much as she could, driving her hand up and down as far as she could reach.

“ Daisy ,” he groaned. His voice breaking as she reached his tip and squeezed again. He thrust into her hand, matching the movement with his fingers and Daisy lost all sense of reality.

There was only Sam and her. The world dark around them and filled with the moans of ecstasy.

Her body tightened, heat flooding her limbs and she knew the end was coming. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to leave this perfect moment where nothing else mattered but them.

As long as his hands were on her body, she belonged to him. She never wanted that to end.

“Sam, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she begged.

“Never,” he growled into her hair. “I will never stop loving you, worshiping you, bringing you to the heights of pleasure.”

“Sam—I—” But her voice broke into a silent cry as her body exploded with ecstasy, shattering her thoughts and will until she was nothing more than floating stars in a sea of black bliss.

She was the night sky, and she wanted to stay here in the heavens, with Sam’s hands on her body, Sam’s lips kissing her shoulder, and Sam’s heart all her own.

She didn’t know who this mysterious bride was, but she couldn’t have him. Daisy would fight to the death if she had to. She was not giving him up. Ever.

A shuddering exhale left her as Sam pushed her skirts down. Daisy blinked into full awareness, the room quiet and still.

“Will you tell me what happened tonight? You went to the Lyon’s Den, didn’t you?”

He tensed behind her. “It’s late. We should go to bed.”

Daisy twisted to look at him, his features bathed in flickering orange light. “You don’t want to tell me?”

He sighed, sitting up straighter with her. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. But you’ll be worried and upset, when you should be sleeping soundly after my very thorough, expert ravishing of your delectable body.”

He nuzzled her hair, but Daisy would not be dissuaded. “It’s too late for that. Worried is my foundational emotion. I need to know, or I won’t sleep at all. I’ll think about every possible outcome of that meeting, and I won’t be able to stop unless I know.”

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Daisy...”

“Sam,” she returned in a tone she’d never used before. It was cold and hard like stone. Unbending.

He lifted his head. “All right.”

Daisy shifted on his lap to face him. His eyes were hooded.

“What did she ask you to do?”

“Nothing yet. But the contract is voided. The bride herself refused to force me.”

Daisy gasped. Her heart shot off like a cannonball, the pounding so fierce she felt like she was vibrating. “Who—” Did she want to know? Who she was, what she looked like? If she was pretty?

He swallowed as his hand moved up her back. “You’ve met her. You know her as Miss Smith, though that is an alias.”

Her heart stopped. The nurse. The pretty woman with the sad eyes who had spent much of her time alone with Sam before Daisy arrived. She shivered and acid rose up her throat.

“She . . . did she know who you were?”

“She did. She needed reassurance—that’s why she was here under a fake name.”

“Reassurance for what?” Daisy’s jealousy tasted bitter on her tongue.

“She needs to marry to be protected from her family. Her previous fiancé abused her, but they were going to force the marriage anyway. She needed to know if I was a good man, someone safe who wouldn’t hurt her.”

Daisy closed her eyes. How awful. “What is her name?”

“Miss Felicity Brandon.”

Daisy bit her lip, trying to bury her jealousy and insecurity. Sam cupped her cheek, and Daisy opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “She refused me. She’ll stay under the widow’s protection. I did offer to help her in any way I can, but I told her I won’t marry her. I won’t marry anyone but you.”

Daisy nodded, her eyes burning. “But you have to do something else?”

“Yes, but it won’t involve marriage. You are my betrothed. You will be my wife.”

His words calmed her pounding heart, her nausea easing as he held her stare, the certainty in his words undeniable. She almost told him about the message. Almost. But she didn’t want to ruin this moment. There was always tomorrow and every day after.

All she had to do was break her engagement with Cliffton. Her mind spun anew with thoughts about how she might do that. None of them remotely confident.

“Come. Let’s get you to bed.”