The moment she closed the front door, she began undressing, leaving a trail of clothing behind in her passage to her bedroom. When she reached her bed, she dropped onto the mattress in a sprawl, pulled a cover over her, and within seconds was fast asleep.
In the days since she’d met Ranelagh, she’d barely slept, and while he may have been accustomed to a schedule of continuous sex, she was not.
Chapter 27
Already experiencing withdrawal symptoms, Sam couldn’t have slept had a gun been put to his head, and knowing he had to keep busy if he were to last two days without Alex, he went to Eddie’s house, dragged him out of bed, and insisted on his company.
They’d played eighteen holes under an overcast sky and, against Eddie’s protests, began a second eighteen midafternoon, despite a light rain falling.
At the third hole, with the wind picking up, Eddie tossed his club at his caddy and hotly declared, “I’m done, Sam. If you have to keep your mind off the lovely widow by wearing yourself out on the golf course, I don’t have to be part of your damned abuse. Not only did you wake me up at the crack of dawn—”
“It was eleven.”
“As I was saying—the crack of dawn, not to mention you’ve dragged me up and down this damned course for hours without so much as a drink.”
“I can’t drink.”
Eddie spun around, his gaze incredulous. “You’re dying.”
Sam handed his club to his caddy and waved the two lads away. “I’m not dying,” he said calmly, “but I sort of promised Alex I wouldn’t sleep with anyone for these two days, so I want to stay sober.” He shrugged. “In the interests of caution.”
Sam’s explanation had done nothing to diminish Eddie’s incredulity. Wide-eyed, he said, “You may not be dying, but you’re obviously delirious. What do you mean, you promised her not to sleep with anyone?”
“Just that.”
“You mean you’re sleeping alone tonight?”
Sam nodded.
“And tomorrow night as well?”
“Yes.”
Eddie softly whistled. “Damn, she must be good. How long has it been, Sammy, since you spent two nights alone?”
“Don’t make it sound so unusual. I spend time at my country home and at my hunting lodge and I don’t necessarily have female guests.”
“But your pretty maidservants draw straws for you, if I recall. Or doesn’t that count?”
The viscount had the grace to look disconcerted. “You’ve made your point. But I’ll manage just fine for two days.”
“Provided you don’t drink and you wear yourself to exhaustion on the golf course.”
“Something like that,” Sam said with a grin.
“Well, I’m going to the clubhouse and get myself a brandy before I die of a chill.” Eddie offered his friend a sardonic glance and began walking away. “Since you’re in love, you may watch me drink.”
Sam caught Eddie’s arm and brought him to a standstill. “For the record,” he said carefully, “I’m not in love.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind joining me at Hattie’s tonight. She has a dozen new ladies in from Paris—your favorite type, as I recall.”
“Maybe some other time.”
“Bloody hell! I don’t believe it!” Eddie made a cross with his forefingers as though warding off evil spirits. “I bloody hope whatever you have doesn’t contaminate me.”
“Alex is very nice. That’s all.”
“Really. Nice. I hadn’t heard you refer to sex as nice before. Tell me how it’s nice. Tell me what the hell she has, Sammy. Come, come, aren’t we old friends? Describe this fucking rarity”—he grinned—“or rare fuck, because I’m all ears.”
“Not a chance.”
“Are we going to hear wedding bells?” Eddie mocked.
“What do you think,” Sam said brusquely.
“Thank God. It would shake my principles to the core.”
“You don’t have any principles.”
“Well, it would scare the hell out of me.”
As it turned out, the men didn’t stay long at the clubhouse. Eddie wasn’t able to change Sam’s mind, and after a period of cajoling and grumbling, he gave up trying to coax Sam into having a drink, and they returned to London.
“I hope you come to your senses,” Eddie said as he exited Sam’s carriage. “Do you think you should see a doctor?”
“I’m not sick, but thank you for your concern.”
“It’s not concern so much as a matter of survival. I don’t want to think this could happen to me.” He shuddered.
“I’ll keep my distance,” Sam promised with a faint smile. “Give my regards to the girls at Hattie’s.”
“I’ll tell them you’re in love.”
“Tell them whatever you want.”
And that casual reply more than anything alarmed Eddie.
Chapter 28
It wasn’t a good night for Sam. He tossed and turned, rose a dozen times to have a drink, de cided against it in each instance, finally dressed before dawn, and rode out to the site of his new golf course to keep his mind off what he couldn’t have for two more days yet.
Watching the sun rise from the crest of a hill, he surveyed the broad green sweep of land that would one day be as perfect a course as man and nature could devise. But rather than the usual sense of satisfaction such contemplation provoked, he instead felt distrait and edgy.
He swore softly, and his mount turned its head in response. Sam stroked his horse’s strong neck. “It’s not you, Duff. I’m just losing my mind,” he told the animal, a faint grimace lifting his mouth. “Over a damned woman.” No matter the softness of his tone, the thought was staggering. He wondered how he was going to reclaim his life—or, more to the point, get through the next two days.
Alex had slept the sleep of exhaustion, and when she woke she was startled to see it was midmorning. Throwing off the covers, she quickly rose and dressed, keeping one eye on the clock. She had only minutes to spare before her first scheduled meeting at the Kensington Museum, where she was a member of the board. After that, she’d promised to listen to proposals for the new children’s wing at St. Anne’s Hospital.
Hurrying to her carriage house behind the garden, she felt a renewed sense of purpose in her return to the advocacy that was such a large part of her life. There was enormous satisfaction in helping others, in having her wealth serve the public good, and while the pleasure Sam offered couldn’t be faulted, there was more to life than self-indulgence.
Especially with a man like Sam, whose self-indulgence was legend.
Breathing in the sweet-scented air of her garden, she looked forward to her responsibilities and obligations. Should she put all her diplomatic skills to use, she might convince old Mr. Tristam that buying the Courbet painting of two half-dressed women in a wooded landscape wouldn’t condemn him to an eternity in hell. And with luck, the young architect of the new children’s wing would have finished his drawings so she could finally move on to the building of it. Since her trust fund was the principal financing behind the project, she had the last word. Something much less certain in her relationship with Sam. She smiled. Obviously, he didn’t understand how often she exercised her authority in the world at large.
When she returned to her studio late that afternoon, the Courbet painting finally acquired and the children’s wing scheduled for groundbreaking the following week, Alex was in fine spirits. She’d stopped for flowers to celebrate her successful day. Walking up the path to her front door, her arms full of delphiniums and white roses, she was surprised to see Ben seated on her doorstep.
“Harry sent me,” he said quickly, rising to his feet. “I hope you don’t mind. Harry said he’d meet me here.”
Alex took note of the satchel at his feet. “He’s coming here to paint?”
“He thought we could finish the sketches from yesterday. But if it’s inconvenient …”
The young man looked embarrassed, his downcast gaze almost serv
ile. Alex immediately attempted to put him at ease. “It’s not inconvenient at all. I’m finished with my appointments for the day. Please, come in.” She smiled. “I’d enjoy painting after a busy day.”
“Harry should be here soon,” the young man offered, picking up the satchel. “He asked me to bring some new robes.”
After unlocking the door, Alex led the way into her studio. “Let me put these flowers in water and I’ll be right with you. If you’d like to change.” She waved toward a doorway. “Use my study.”
When she returned a few minutes later, Ben, garbed in a gleaming cerulean blue djellaba, was seated on a chair conveniently placed in front of her easel. It was impossible not to be impressed by the quality of the glamorous silk garment. Alex complimented him on his robe.
“My father gave me this before I left home. I think of him every time I wear it.” Sadness overcame his features and tears welled in his eyes.
“You must miss your family,” Alex said kindly.
He nodded. “After the earthquake I had to leave the village to help support them. London can be lonely.”
“I imagine it can. Are you hoping to return soon?”
“Not soon, but eventually, God willing,” he said. “Harry promised to find me more work modeling so I can earn extra money. Most of my pay from the museum goes directly home.”
“Harry can be depended on, you can be sure. Would you like something to eat before we begin? I think I missed lunch.” She hadn’t, but the young man didn’t look as though he had an abundance of food.
“If you don’t mind, miss. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“You poor man. Come to the kitchen. I’ll find us something.”
In short order, Ben was seated across from Alex at a large monk’s table, an array of food before him. While he ate, Alex kept him company with a slice of Madeira cake and a glass of hock, and between mouthfuls he gave an account of his family and the village poverty that had brought him to England.
It was a poignant tale typical of so many immigrants to the city, one she’d heard many times before. As the story of his plight unfolded, Alex offered not only sympathy but in the end also a well-paying job at her father’s warehouse. “You could still help at the museum. I’m sure my father would allow you flexibility in your hours, and you’d be able to send more help home to your family.”
Ben’s eyes filled with tears again. “Thank you, thank you, kind lady.” His voice vibrated with emotion. “It was the most fortunate of days when I met young Harry and you.”
“We’re more than happy to help. Once Harry arrives, he’ll tell you himself.”
“Bless you, my lady.” Ben’s bottom lip trembled. “You are our benevolent angel.”
“Well, well, well …,” a lazy voice intoned. “What do we have here?”
Alex spun around at the low drawl, saw Sam looming large in the doorway, and immediately frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“You probably should run along.” Sam gestured at the man seated across from Alex. “And tell your sister to stay out of my life.”
Alex’s gaze swiveled to Ben and then back to Sam. “What’s going on here?” A hint of temper vibrated in her voice. “What sister? Ben’s modeling for me.”
“I’ll bet he is.”
“You know him?”
“You might say so. And I doubt Mahmud’s up to any good.”
“His name is Ben.”
“Today maybe.” Sam snapped his fingers at the young man and indicated the door with a jerk of his thumb. “Get out, Mahmud.”
As the young man scrambled to his feet, Alex put up her hand to stop him. “You needn’t leave,” she said, taking issue with Sam’s peremptory commands. “I won’t let Lord Ranelagh hurt you.”
“You decide, Mahmud,” Sam gritted out, soft menace in his tone. “Do you think this lady can save you?”
Slipping around the end of the table, Mahmud bolted for the back door, and a moment later silence filled the kitchen.
Alex rose and faced Sam, her annoyance plain. “Would you care to tell me what that was all about?”
“Would you care to tell me what you were doing with him?” Sam returned, a minute edge to his voice.
He filled the doorway, his broad shoulders brushing the jambs. Resentful of this unwanted intervention, she said, “You’re not my keeper. You have no right to question me, and I don’t like you barging into my house. I particularly don’t like you frightening my friends away.”
“He’s not your friend. He’s Farida’s brother and he’s not here because he likes the color of your eyes. Let me rephrase that. If he likes the color of your eyes, you’re damned lucky I showed up when I did.”
“He was modeling for Harry. He’s perfectly benign, and don’t think just because your liaisons come to disastrous ends that Ben, or Mahmud, or whatever his name was, would necessarily be a danger to me.”
Sam blew out an impatient breath. “That brother-and-sister duet are predators, and danger follows in their wake as sure as the sun rises in the east.”
“I beg to differ with you. He’s not a predator. For your information, he comes from a village near Damascus that was nearly destroyed by an earthquake and he’s working very hard to support his entire family on very little money, and—”
“He was born and raised in Cairo.”
“How do you know?”
“I know because Farris had them investigated. They’re thieves. They have been most of their lives, and while I don’t question the motives behind their life of crime, I’m done paying for it. They have orders to leave London by week’s end or lose the settlement I’ve agreed to give them. Is that a clear enough picture?”
He took a step into the room. Alex unconsciously braced herself. “Very clear,” she replied stiffly, irritated to have been momentarily intimidated. “But it still doesn’t give you the right to intrude into my house and life. This is my home, Sam, and even if you hadn’t disregarded our agreement, I don’t appreciate your barging in.”
“I saved you from a thief, possibly more. Most would thank me.”
“Thank you,” she said coolly. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”
“What if I said I didn’t want to?”
“Then, you’d be no better than he. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of me.”
“Am I taking advantage of you?” His voice had suddenly gone soft.
“Yes.” She steeled herself against the silken accents, against potent memory, against his seductive gaze. “Yes, you are. I prefer my privacy.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She straightened her shoulders. “It means I can’t—I won’t allow you to take over my life.”
“And I’ve done that?”
“Completely. Since I met you, I haven’t done anything but—”
“Make love?”
She flushed crimson, but her voice, when she spoke, was firm. “I can’t afford to keep doing that.”
“Why not? You liked it.”
“It’s not enough. Don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t. Explain to me why you won’t do something you like.”
“Explain to me why making love is all you do.”
“It’s not all I do.”
Her brows rose. “You’re simply misunderstood by the world at large. Is that it?”
“I don’t care what the world thinks.”
“Obviously. And perhaps there’s where our visions differ. I do care—”
This time his brows rose. “Really. I don’t know too many ladies who pose nude.”
“Let’s just say I care in my own way,” she said, impassioned about her freedom. “And I also care about a great number of things other than my own pleasure.”
“Don’t suddenly turn Puritan on me. I know you better.”
“You couldn’t wait even two days.”
“Waiting somehow makes me a better person?”
“You could have done it for me.
Instead, you chose to indulge yourself as usual—as always.”
“Look, I don’t want to fight,” he said quietly.
“And I don’t want to give up my life.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve come too far to relinquish my independence for—what? Your capricious desires?”
His eyes suddenly turned chill. “Nobody asked you to give up your life,” he said curtly. “And pleasure isn’t necessarily evil, despite your newfound virtue. You’re reading way the hell too much into this, sweetheart.” He nodded, a brisk, dismissive gesture. “It’s been interesting.” His cool gaze raked her from head to foot. “I’ll give you that.” And then he turned and walked away.
When the door shut a moment later, the soft sound was utterly final.
Chapter 29
Well, that little scene demonstrated how useless it was to try to please a woman, Sam decided angrily, striding away from Alex’s studio. He hadn’t even had a drink since last he saw her—not with Eddie, not the previous night, nor had he considered seeing another woman, all in an effort to meet some damned exacting standard of some dutiful bitch who had just told him she wasn’t changing her life for him.
As if he wanted her to change her life for him!
As if he wanted more than the pleasure of her damned hot body!
Standing at the curb, he surveyed the empty street, begrudging his stupidity in sending his carriage away. Who would think she didn’t want to have sex when she’d been having sex with him for nearly a week now. Silly him. He should have known she was in a new celibate phase. If he was a fortune-teller, maybe he might have known, he fumed, turning toward the park. Well, he wished her pleasure in her cold, chaste bed. There were plenty of other women in London who were more than willing.
But he’d not walked far before he found himself wondering just how long her bed would remain chaste, and considering the passionate nature of their relationship the last few days, that disastrous thought refused to be dislodged from his brain. She didn’t seem like the type who would go long without sex and, of course, there was always damned Harry with his soulful eyes just waiting to console her. Merde and damn and bloody hell. It wasn’t a pleasing prospect. Especially knowing how unbelievably hot she could be. Especially after having screwed her almost constantly the past week. Dammit, he didn’t like to think of her with Harry—or whomever—and for a flashing moment he considered pirating her away to some distant place where he could keep her for himself. Cooler reason almost immediately put period to such a ludicrous notion, and he instead surveyed the street ahead, looking for a pub.
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