Page 40 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

T hat evening, Daisy languished in the bath, sipping her third cup of hot chocolate.

Sam had returned after his meeting, pensive and rather closed lipped about his task , as he called it.

He had to fetch something for Mrs. Dove-Lyon and that’s all he would say.

But it would happen tonight after dinner.

When he’d told them all, Amelia and Graham had been overwrought and bubbling with questions that had only angered Sam.

He’d stormed off to his suite, moving stiffly, and Amelia and Graham had argued softly with each other in the drawing room.

Daisy, not wanting to be near any of them in her own terrible mood, chose to take a bath in her room.

She was sore, aching where Sam had driven himself into her over and over.

The mere memory made her hungry for more, despite the soreness she already bore.

Daisy didn’t doubt he could improve her mood as long as she didn’t pester him with questions.

And truly, she didn’t need to know. A task didn’t sound particularly dangerous.

But no matter what it was, she wanted him to go with the memory of her love pulsing in his veins.

A bit of encouragement for him to succeed and hurry home.

Most of all, she wanted this madness to be over.

Which was why she had begun a letter to her mother and father.

She’d feel better if she could work through what she might say to them.

She couldn’t be afraid, not now, not after last night.

Nothing anyone could say could prevent her and Sam from marrying.

But that didn’t stop her stomach from turning into knots at the idea of a confrontation with her parents.

She’d never done something like this. She’d always been the good, dutiful daughter.

Now she would ask them to end her betrothal. Daisy supposed it was a blessing Cliffton had not returned sooner. She could only imagine the nightmare this would be if he had, and there were a wedding date set and plans in place. Just the idea made her stomach turn.

“Thank you, Cliffton.” Daisy never thought she’d be grateful to him for ignoring her all these years.

For her marriage to Sam, Daisy wasn’t going to wait longer than the standard four weeks. Once the banns were read the final time, they’d marry, she’d move in here, and they’d begin their life, together.

As long as tonight went well.

It was almost time for dinner. Daisy dressed in something comfortable.

Wind still battered the house, but the rain had lessened.

Before leaving her room, Daisy had a note from Amelia that she wasn’t feeling well, and that she and Graham would be dining in their room.

Amelia didn’t anticipate Sam wanting to dine with them after the way the afternoon had gone, so Daisy went to the dining room thinking she’d be dining alone, but there he sat.

Daisy entered, her heart lifting at the sight of him, even though his face was somber.

In the short time she’d been here, she hadn’t seen him look so withdrawn.

He’d been angry, yes. Mischievous, most definitely.

Happy, smiling, teasing, exhausted, petulant—but never like this, like he carried an immense weight.

Or maybe he was afraid of what he had to do tonight.

The thought sent a cold chill down her spine.

Daisy took the chair at his right, and the moment he noticed her, the far-off look in his gaze evaporated, the butter knife he’d been spinning in his hand was set down, and he angled his body toward hers.

“Daisy, I’m sorry I’ve been missing most of the afternoon.”

“Were you hurt earlier?”

“My rib was being bothersome, but it’s my pride that took the greatest hit.”

“Oh... Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Daisy bit her cheek. He wouldn’t share his troubles with her.

“I just want to look at you. I’m not even hungry.”

Neither was she. Her nerves had quickly knotted themselves inside her stomach and her head throbbed with an anxious headache. “I’m not either.”

He frowned. “If you eat, I’ll eat.”

Daisy reached for his hand. “Agreed.”

He wove his fingers through hers and didn’t pull away as the footman brought out their meal. Tonight’s supper was catered for warmth and comfort. A thick stew and warm rolls graced the table, along with butter molded into a fish.

Sam sliced off the head and spread the gob on his split roll. Then he dipped it in the broth of his stew and took a bite.

“If my mother saw such a thing, she’d faint,” Daisy said.

“I know how to behave in front of your mother. This magnificent example of manners is just for you, Daisy. Never forget, I’m a beast, and I like to toy with my food before I eat it.”

Daisy flushed. “Well, it does look appetizing.” She tore her roll in half, swiped it with a small fin of butter and dipped it in her stew.

She took a bite, and soggy roll, salted butter, and savory juices filled her mouth.

She wanted to moan but didn’t. A dribble of broth slipped down her chin and she might have been embarrassed had Sam not been watching her eat with a different sort of hunger in his eyes.

He swiped at the droplet and sucked it off his thumb.

Daisy clamped her thighs together. Their meal passed in growing anticipation as their charged silence built.

They watched each other, touched each other, gentle touches with fingers and hands or his hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze.

She’d occasionally dab at his mouth with her napkin, and by the time their plates were taken away, she was nearly in his lap, leaning over the table, his chair angled toward hers and his leg pressed against hers.

Daisy was burning with a fever only he could break.

“Come,” he said as he pulled her to her feet.

“Where? Don’t you need to leave soon?”

“I need a kiss for good luck first. How about in our favorite chair?”

Our chair?

Daisy blushed as she let him tug her into the drawing room. He closed the door and the lock snicked. She widened her eyes at his back, though she suspected even with an unlocked door, the staff knew not to interrupt their lord. How, she didn’t want to know, but they always conveniently disappeared.

Sam spun to face her, framed her face with his hands, and then he was on her.

His tongue slipped into her mouth because she was already waiting to give him anything he wanted.

He scooped her under legs without breaking the kiss and carried her toward the hearth that popped merrily, driving away the chill.

Instead of sitting, he lowered her over the arm of the chair.

“Sam, your rib!” She belatedly remembered.

“I bound it up tightly and used some of the ointment Dr. Bradley left me. It’s manageable for now.”

“What happened earlier?” Daisy asked. She needed to know why he would be in enough pain to require such measures.

“Chase threw a jab at me, forcing me to react and helping me remember that I’m still weak and pathetic.”

“He hit you?”

“No, he tried to hit me. He missed. But his aim wasn’t to hit me.” He scowled. “I don’t think.”

Daisy stared at him in disbelief as he came to kneel in front of her. “Why would he do that?”

“To prove I needed his help.”

“To do what?” She chastised herself inwardly. She’d resigned herself to not asking, and yet here she was, doing that very thing. But her worry was eating her alive.

Sam didn’t meet her gaze as he set his hands on her knees. “I’m supposed to steal something from someone.”

Daisy gasped so hard she felt a sharp sting in her throat. “What if you get caught?”

His gaze rose to hers. “I won’t get caught.”

“Are you a master thief?”

He reached under her skirts. “I stole your heart, didn’t I?”

The touch of his hands around her calves stole her wits, but Daisy wouldn’t let him distract her from this. “I stole yours.”

He chuckled. “How do you figure that?” His hands reached the backs of her knees, and he gave a sharp tug. Her bottom nearly slipped off the chair.

Daisy didn’t know how to answer. “You were engaged.”

“As were you.” He began to gather her skirts, and her belly tightened as her suspicion about what he wanted to do rose. Delicious heat spread over her skin.

Daisy bit her lip as she tried to gather her thoughts. “But you didn’t know that. You only knew that you were engaged.”

“Under contract to be engaged. I think of you as my one and only betrothed, because you are the only woman I proposed to.”

Her heart fluttered at that. The air touched her thighs, and he pushed them wider, his focus now between her legs and intensely hot.

“Sam,” she said on her next breath.

“Mm, yes Daisy?” he said huskily.

She was melting, she could feel her body slickening under his gaze and forgot what she was about to say.

“I think you’re right,” he continued when she remained silent. “You did steal my heart. I had no intention of giving it to anyone, not after I learned Amelia had bound me to a stranger, but then you arrived, and you took it right out of me. Claimed me for yourself.”

Daisy liked the sound of that. “What happened to the good luck kiss?”

He licked his lips—his sinful, talented lips—and she squirmed, spreading her legs further.

“I didn’t say it would be on your mouth, did I?”

Daisy tossed her head back against the plush back of the chair and she swore she heard a growl as his mouth closed over her.