Page 22 of Enemies with an Earl
Ash’s low chuckle snapped Sam out of his state of shock. But then Ash’s gaze turned inward, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “I hadn’t realized Robbie wanted to leave. I tried to create as safe a space as possible—for everyone—here at Devonford…”
“Youhave,” Sam assured.
Ash had made Devonford a haven of sorts. All misfits, people, and horses who didn’t belong, who were mistreated, found safety here at Devonford. But that only extended so far. To the castle and stable staff…but one couldn’t force their tenants, the local village, to adopt those values.
He nodded slowly. “Yes, well. I wish him and his partner the best. I wonder if Lord Bentley will approach me or not. I am a silent benefactor of the organization, so he knows I support the cause. Sometimes these things have to move quickly, to avoid”—his gaze flicked to Sam’s—“consequences. Capital comes in handy.”
Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Lord Bentley ran some sort of underground organization that helped men like Sam? And Ash—Sam’s bloody best mate—was a benefactor, and Sam didn’t know anything about it? And that last statement…made it sound like the organization might even save people from dire circumstances. People like Sam’s eighteen-year-old self.
“Are you well, Sam?”
Sam backed toward the door. Was he well?
“I don’t know,” he murmured.
He was extremely confused. A tad dizzy. His heart was thumping oddly against his breastbone. The sheer emotional range he’d endured today hardly seemed safe. Could someone cock up their toes from such extremes? Perhaps he should go lie down.
“Sam…” Ash’s call cut off as the door swung shut. Sam hurried down the dim hallway, back toward the servant’s quarters.
And that’s when he realized something. If Ash hadn’t already known about Lord Bentley and Robbie…it meant Lord Bentley hadn’t said anything.
The man hadn’t breathed a word of Sam’s egregious behavior.
If Bentley hadn’t complained to the Duke about Sam’s behavior…then Sam might possibly be wrong about the lord being a complete bastard. Still a bastard, just not acomplete one.
And that powder keg Ash had just dropped: an organization that assisted men like Sam. What the fuck was Sam supposed to do with that knowledge? He refused to soften toward the man. He also refused to acknowledge the relief that flooded him, knowing Bentley didn’t hold any sort of interest in Robbie.
Because that was precarious territory to be in. It was so much easier to keep his physical attraction toward the man under control when the man had the personality of a baited badger.
But the other issue with learning about Lord Bentley’s involvement? It had some very,verydangerous assumptions whispering through his mind. Like maybe the subtle signs Sam thought his eyes had been making up…weren’t so made up after all. That those heated glares weren’t just fueled by fury, but also by a desire that matched Sam’s own.
10
Sam
Sammutteredalitanyof curse words under his breath. This was thefourthtime tonight Lord Bentley had rung for him. Fuckingfourth. The only blessing was that Sam hadn’t fallen asleep yet this time. There was nothing worse than being abruptly woken up in those first thirty or so minutes after one had fallen asleep. But that was exactly what had happened to Sam twice already. He swore to all that was holy, Lord Bentley was the spawn of the devil.
Sam knew this was punishment for lashing out at Lord Bentley earlier. And while Sam had gotten extremely lucky that Bentley hadn’t said a word to the Duke—even if Ash would always stand by Sam—Sam had to admit he should have never cornered the man like that. A risky move that could have ended with Sam once again in the hands of the authorities.
But Sam had been blind with fury over someone harminghisfamily.
That was all it had been. Sam feeling protective. Sam hadn’t been jealous. Not one bit.
He had not felt that hot, ugly sting deep in his gut at seeing Lord Bentley inches from Robbie. Sam had most definitely not been bitter becausehe’dbeen right there Bentley’s entire stay, alone with the man. And Bentley hadn’t once cozied up tohim.
He wasn’t jealous. He swore it. Only a daft man would be jealous over someone he despised.
Oh, Sammie boy, you are a daft, daft man.
He hurried down the hall to the servants’ stairs leading to the floor of the castle housing the guest chambers. He raked his hands through his hair and then shook his head, trying to gain some composure—some semblance ofconsciousness. Sodding hell, he was tired. The man was infuriating. Summons after summons for ridiculous requests.
A flash of movement and a scream abruptly cutting off stopped Sam in his tracks. He quickly backed up to the library double-doors. He squinted— Was that? His mouth popped open. It was. Lady Felicity in nothing but a night dress on a library ladder with Ash’s handson her waist. With the way she was leaning back, she clearly had almost tumbled backward. Sam’s brows pinched. But what on earth were the two of them doing alone together at three in the morn…
Lady Felicity slowly turned, her hands falling to the ladder for support. Sam’s brows lifted to his hairline. Because his best mate’s hands didn’t move from their place on the woman’s hips. The two stared at each other, unmoving except for the rapid rise and fall of Lady Felicity’s chest. And then Sam saw it, so subtle he nearly missed it: Ash’s fingers visibly flexed, tightening on her.
Well, this just got very interesting.
Ash assisted Lady Felicity slowly to the ground, their gazes locked on each other. And then the man jumped back like he’d caught fire. Sam grinned. There was his honorable-to-a-fault best mate. Who just had his bloody hands on his son’s fiancé! Oh, this was a delicious little tidbit. He could not wait to bring this up with Ash tomorrow. Or today, he supposed.Urghhh.He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, desperately trying to force himself awake at three in the bloody fucking morn.
