“Bedding one woman doesn’t mean you understand them.”
“Ouch. You must not think much of me if you believe I’ve only shared one woman’s bed.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How many?”
The question fell from her lips before she could stop it. Feeling her face burning hotter, she studied his boots. She shouldn’t have asked, but now that she had, she wanted to know the answer.
He clicked his tongue. “A true gentleman doesn’t tell. Suffice it to say my number far exceeds your own.”
This turn of the conversation brought more heat to her cheeks. Due to her constant blushing, she wondered if her color would ever return to normal.
“I can’t argue with that, but I still say my knowledge of women exceeds yours.”
The baron’s twitching lips made her narrow her eyes. He didn’t believe her.
“Please, enlighten me then. How do you propose I get to know your sister?”
An involuntary urge made her lips curl. She had never been asked how she’d liked to be pursued. If their circumstances had been different, she’d welcome the opportunity. However, not only was her secret in danger, but she feared she truly liked the man too much to spend more time with him.
“Growing up with Samantha, I’ve learned a lot about women. But with her, I believe leaving her alone would be best. Life is already trying enough for a man to add complications.”
“She can’t have a friend?” His knowing smile didn’t make it look like he just wanted friendship.
“Of course she can, just not you. Having a baron hanging about the house would only raise speculation.”
“From whom? As far as I’ve seen, you and your sister are the only two people living in that entire area.”
“Still I-”
“I just want to talk to her. Can you make the arrangements? Can I see her tonight?”
Samantha sighed. What was she to do? She couldn’t understand why he pressed. No man other than Mr. Lemange had developed such an interest in her. Lord Berwick clearly wanted something from her. Would it be something she was willing to give?
Looking into his determined face, she knew this wouldn’t be the end of his pressuring. If she refused him now, he may still appear at her house tonight. She couldn’t have him randomly showing up. Dropping her head she took a deep breath, then faced him again.
“All right. I’ll leave early today so I can . . . prepare her for your arrival.”
His answering smile hit her in the chest. This was bad. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down with him. It wouldn’t be easy since he made her feel so comfortable. Tonight she would have to find out what he wished from her, and then she would ensure he never wanted to see her again.
Kenneth rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Tonight he would see Miss Samantha again. For his own sanity, he needed to see her soon. Only then would his troubled mind rest easy.
After those disturbing moments he had with Sam, he knew experiencing his attraction to Miss Samantha would explain everything. The similarities between the two of them had to be confusing his body.
“Berwick, we’re growing bored,” Hockley complained, drawing Kenneth’s attention. “Are there no balls or parties out here? I miss female companionship.”
“Me too,” Froste added. “However, not all men feel that way about women.”
“What?” Kenneth choked out as his palms began to sweat.
His two friends looked over at him, disappointment clear in their gazes. Did they suspect? He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This wasn’t his fault. He didn’t ask to feel something for Sam, nor did he understand it.
“I know you are out here all alone in the country, but that’s no excuse.” Hockley shared a look with Froste.
Head spinning, Kenneth sat forward. Nausea rolled in his stomach. What was he to do now? What would happen to him? He cursed himself, and he cursed Sam too.
“Yes, it would behoove you to remain better informed. Honestly Berwick, they do have post delivered out here.”
Kenneth blinked. His life was falling apart, and his friends wanted to complain about his refusal to pay to have London’s newssheets delivered?
“Since you appear to be clueless, I’ll take pity and fill you in.” Hockley leaned forward as if about to confess a great secret. “Viscount Tarrington has been chased from London.”
“Why?” Kenneth’s head reared back. This was not what he expected to hear. With the focus on Tarrington, he allowed his tense muscles to relax. Whatever this pertained to, it didn’t affect him.
“He was caught with his pants down,” Froste explained. “Although that was a common occurrence, the fact he was with his valet made the circumstances different.”
Hockley snorted. “He never expected his wife to barge in on them. I don’t imagine she’s likely to forget the sight anytime soon. Anyway, he will not be showing his face in London in the near future.”
The images filling Kenneth mind didn’t appeal to him. He had no desire for that. His preference remained toward women. So why did Sam have to be different? Why did the boy’s smile feel like a punch in the stomach? Why did he look forward to spending time with the boy? Why couldn’t he be normal?
Instead of feeling amusement in the viscount’s fate, Kenneth felt sorry for him. After all, the man could be just like him. The valet could have been the only boy Tarrington noticed. The main difference being Kenneth would never act on his feelings.
He would remain Sam’s friend. That was all. But Miss Samantha posed another matter for him to pursue. Her existence still gave Kenneth hope. Perhaps if he could bed the woman, all his unusual feelings for her brother would dissipate. He needed to see her soon.
After promising his friends a taste of country society, he excused himself to collect his horse. Sam already had plenty of time to warn his sister of Kenneth’s arrival, and he could wait no longer. His muscles grew stiff with tension as he neared Samantha’s house. What would he do if he felt nothing toward her?
Terrified of the thought, he pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted, walking Hazel instead of continuing at a fast clip. He stood on the edge of discovering something about himself that he may not want to know. Would he be safer returning to London? Picking an heiress and not returning to Berwick until the stable boy had moved on?
Knowing he needed answers, he forced his hand to knock on her door. A full second hadn’t passed before the door swung open, and Miss Samantha stood before him. Loose locks of her hair caressed her face as a light breeze entered her house without invitation. The shy smile on her full lips hit him like he walked into a brick wall.
“Good evening.” The relief in his voice sounded palpable, even to him. He wanted to take her in his arms and spin her about the room in pure joy.
“My lord,” she curtsied. “What brings you here this evening?”
He ran his gaze around to emphasize the fact that he still remained on her doorstep. As this was the second time he had to invite himself in, he realized she didn’t get many visitors. The thought that she didn’t entertain many men made him happy.
“May I come in?”
She pinched her lips together as if in disapproval. “Perhaps we can take a walk instead?”
His disappointment dulled his joy as he nodded and offered his arm. He would much rather be welcomed into her house. He’d hoped to see for himself how she enjoyed the chairs he’d selected for her. The walk also provided him with the unhappy sight of how bad his estate had fallen.
Without taking his offered escort, Miss Samantha strode past him and headed down the street lined with abandoned buildings. Shrugging to himself, he hurried to catch up with her.
“So,” she began. “What brings you to this area again today? From what I gathered from Sam, your arrival isn’t accidental.”
“I wanted to see if you were enjoying the chairs I sent.”
She stopped walking and met his eyes. “You came all the way out here for me to offer my thanks? I
should have sent a note, but . . . Thank you. The gift was both thoughtful and appreciated.”
“That wasn’t my entire reason for visiting, but I’m pleased to hear you like the chairs.”
“I would repay you, but I have nothing to give.”
He sighed. “Why can’t you accept something as a simple kindness? I’ve never seen two people so against receiving a gift.”
“And I’ve never met anyone as selfless as you.” As she took a step forward, the soft light in her eyes nearly sent Kenneth’s heart out of his chest. “I can never say thank you enough for what you have done.”
Uncomfortable with the idea she thought of him as some kind of saint, he cleared his throat and shifted his feet. “It wasn’t much. I-”
“Something that’s not much to you means a lot more to others.” The blue sapphires of her eyes sparkled as she gazed upon him.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
After blinking several times, she retreated back a step. “Like what?”
“As if I am worthy of your adoration. I’m selfish, not selfless. One of my main reasons for buying you those chairs was so I could see you again.”
He ran his hand through his hair, and then turned and strode away from her. Mentioning his interest in her hadn’t been part of the plan. She unnerved him. Now he needed to leave her alone. He accomplished what he sought out to do, so there was no point in plaguing her further.
A warm hand slid between his arm and body. Startled, he whipped his head toward her. She smiled shyly as her hand curled around his arm, accepting his earlier offer of an escort.
“Anxious to leave? That isn’t the response I expected from someone who invented an expensive excuse to see me. So, why did you?”
Unwilling to answer, he clenched his teeth and kept his stare straight ahead.
“You don’t have to answer.” The brightness of her voice made him wary. “I can invent my own reasons.”
“You can envision any number of sordid reasons, but I . . . I just wanted to talk to you again.” He shrugged as if his request was the most natural occurrence.
“Oh. Then are you satisfied?”
Sliding his attention to her, he drank in the sight of her. His hungry eyes traveled from her silky brown hair down to the tips of her dainty toes. His body hardened. No. He wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more from her. One night to be more specific. That would be the cure he needed. Then his fascination would be cured.
“For today.” He rubbed his free hand along his jaw. “Perhaps we can do this again?”
She sighed. “If you insist, I would be agreeable to a visit one afternoon next week. Wednesday perhaps?”
Kenneth observed her face closely. She kept her gaze forward and her face expressionless. Her ready answer told him she either expected his question, or she hoped for it. Regardless, he felt happy.
“Then I believe we have a deal.”
Chapter 5
“Don’t you know anything?”
Heat crept up Samantha’s neck at Lawrence’s question. All the knowledge she possessed had been pressed upon her by her mother to encourage womanly pursuits, not the type of activities to hold a boy’s interest.
“Leave him alone,” Darin scolded. “I bet he knows more than you.”
Lawrence glared at his brother and then turned his attention back to his fishing pole.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been fishing before,” Samantha confessed.
“Don’t worry about him. I believe he’s just cross because I wouldn’t let him invite Kenneth.”
“Then why didn’t you ask him to come?” Although she’d been pleased the baron hadn’t been there, she couldn’t help asking.
Darin shifted uncomfortably. “Well . . . I . . . I thought it would be nice without him here this time.”
Pinning him with her gaze, Samantha tried to decipher what had happened between him and the baron. Lord Berwick seemed to regard both boys as family, so she didn’t understand this reaction.
“I thought you liked spending time with him.”
“I do,” Darin quickly assured. “It’s just he has been acting different lately. Especially when you’re around.”
Samantha reared her head back as panic welled up inside her chest. Did the baron know her secret? Could that be why he wanted to see her as a woman? To verify his suspicions? She felt lightheaded.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” She tried to infuse defensiveness into her voice, but it came out weak, uncertain.
“It’s not that-”
“I’ll tell you why,” Lawrence interrupted. “He acts as if you belong to him. Like he’s your father or something. But he’s not.”
The young boy glared at her. His jealousy struck her as odd. She could feel the love Baron Berwick felt for Darin and Lawrence. It was almost tangible. He would make a wonderful father one day.
The thought shot heat to her cheeks. She couldn’t think of him like that.
“No. He’s not my father. I don’t have one anymore.” The words were painful to say, but she tried to keep her emotions from showing. “I think that’s why he is trying to help me. You, on the other hand, he likes.”
“Yes, but . . . I got something!”
Lawrence yelped as the fishing pole nearly flew from his grasp. Darin quickly ran to aid his brother. Between the two of them, they pulled the wiggling, silver-colored fish from the rushing water. Although in awe of their catch, Samantha couldn’t help but feel sorry for the fish.
“Great job.” Darin clapped his brother on the back.
“See.” Lawrence gave her a smug smile. “That’s how it’s done. Clearly I’m the best teacher.”
The three of them laughed and were still in jovial spirits when Baron Berwick arrived. Seeing him striding toward them made her breathing speed and her palms sweat. After agreeing to meet with him regularly as Samantha, she wasn’t sure how to act around him. Should Sam know of the arrangement?
“Hello there,” his deep voice greeted them. “Good job, Lawrence. I see you have a prime catch there.”
“Yes.” Lawrence puffed out his chest. “I’m the best fisherman.”
“You sure are.” After ruffling the boy’s hair, the baron turned to her. “Sam, are you ready to go?”
She gulped and nodded her head. This next excursion he planned for them would be the most difficult for her. He’d arranged a hunting trip for them. Much to her dismay, she would be forced to spend the night alone with him.
As they traveled to the hunting cabin, her horse moved nervously beneath her since she couldn’t manage to relax her tight grip on the reins. The baron didn’t seem to notice as he chatted along happily, excitement gleaming in his eyes. Her fear kept her from enjoying his pleasure.
“You will like the hunt,” the baron promised, seemingly unaware of her distress. “As a boy, I found little I liked more. The happiest memories of my father happened in that cabin.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
The baron laughed, bringing warmth to her face. Her apprehension shone too clearly in her voice. She surged her horse forward, anxious for this to be over with. Surely one night wouldn’t change anything.
“We are here.” Pride colored his words as he dismounted and indicated she do the same. “It’s . . . not as magnificent as my memory painted.”
Casting her eyes upon the cabin, Samantha wondered how it could have ever held magnificence. The front of the structure didn’t appear to have been kept in good repair, and she hoped the inside received more attention.
When they stepped through the door, the baron sucked in his breath. Peering around him, her mouth dropped open. The roof from the entire back of the structure had caved in. Jagged wood pieces littered the floor and covered the furniture. With the recent rain, pools of standing water remained in sunken places on the floor and mold reached every surface it could.
The cabin creaked and protested as he walked through it. His hands were clenched into fists and his lips press
ed together.
“I can’t believe . . . Or rather, I thought this place would have survived. My father just . . .”
Pain rippled across his face, tearing her up on the inside. Witnessing how quickly his joy had been eradicated affected her more than she wanted to admit. Her heart ached as it encouraged her forward. His disappointed eyes never left her face. Helplessness engulfed her, so she leaned toward him to offer comfort with the only thing she had.
The warmth of his body seeped into her pores as she pressed herself against him and touched her lips to his. The sensation of his beautiful lips upon hers shot a thrill through her. She didn’t have an opportunity to explore all the emotions dancing within since he immediately pushed her away.
Stumbling backwards, she brought her hurt gaze to his disgusted face. Realization hit her like a punch in the chest. She’d ruined the strange relationship she had forged with the baron as Sam.
His face darkened, and she knew she had to get out of there. Spinning around she tried to scramble away, but her foot slipped, sending her face first into the debris. Pain sliced through her chest, making her gasp. She pulled herself to a sitting position and looked down to see a piece of wood sticking out of her chest.
Hearing footsteps approaching her, she put the agony aside, yanked the stake from her chest and climbed to her feet, ignoring the warm, sticky substance oozing from the wound.
As quickly as she could, she tore out of the cabin and into the cover of the trees. Time didn’t exist as her head spun and her feet continued on without thought. Deep into the brush.
Home. She had to get home.
The acrid smell of the blood made her stomach flop. She couldn’t take it any longer. Her cabin couldn’t be far now, but she lost the ability to move in a straight line.
Catching the Baron Page 5