Page 49 of Enemies with an Earl
That inquisitive amber gaze sharpened. Sam could practically see the man fighting not to ask more questions.
He shook his head and expelled a small huff of laughter. “I’ve been here two decades, Bentley. Because my family disowned me. That’s all I’m willing to say on the matter. The Duke—Ash—is a friend who gave me somewhere safe to stay. We have an unbreakable bond, and this castle knows it. I realize familiarity with another lord, with you, however, was unacceptable.”
“Appearances are very important.” Bentley’s lips tilted up in a weak smile. “Especially for those like us.”
“Exactly.”
“Thank you for…sharing more about your past. It’s not my place to pry. I apologize.”
They stared at each other, and the silence between them grew uncomfortable. Sam rolled his lips in, and Bentley’s gaze skittered away.Awkward.
“I should take my leave, then. I just wanted you to know…” He trailed off, everything that needed to be said already said.
He turned toward the door, and his hand fell to the handle.
“Wait.”
Sam glanced over his shoulder and caught Bentley’s gaze. He couldn’t read the shadowed expression, the dark, honeyed gaze that stared back at him. All he knew was there was something desperate in the command the man had just thrown out.
Sam spun slowly. “Is there something you need, my lord?”
Bentley nodded slowly. “I need assistance…getting out of my attire so I can retire for the evening.”
The silence was deafening. Because that sounded very much like an invitation.
Sam cocked a brow.
Bentley cocked one right back.
Sam tamped down a smile. “You’ve never required my assistance with”—he jerked his chin in the direction of Bentley’s loose lawn shirt and breeches—“with those items in the past.”
Bentley lifted an indifferent shoulder. “I find I’ve forgotten how.”
Anticipation seared Sam’s skin, gooseflesh popping up in its wake. He was moving before his brain could comprehend what he was doing. He stopped a pace before Bentley. Waited for him to call the next move.
“Perhaps…” Bentley said softly. “You should demonstrate for me. On yourself.”
Sam’s coat hit the floor with a softthumpin the next breath.His fingers flew over the buttons of his waistcoat, and that followed suit, quickly followed by his cravat. He yanked his shirt from his breeches, then reached over his back and tore it over his head with one hand.
Bentley blinked dumbly at him. “That was very…expedient.”
“I find I’m highly motivated.” Sam stepped forward. Inches separating them now.
His hands gripped Bentley’s billowing lawn shirt, a few sizes too big, and slowly pulled it from the man’s breeches. Their gazes caught and held. And now Sam took his time. Because he didn’t want to hurry when it came to touching Bentley. He slowly lifted the shirt, sliding his knuckles up a hard, muscled torso.
“Arms up, my lord,” he murmured.
“Bentley.” The man’s whisper puffed over Sam’s skin as he lifted his arms, and Sam divested him of his shirt.
“Bentley,” he said softly.
They watched each other again, the moment stretching out, thick with the weight of what was to come. Though Sam hadn’t ever expected it to be what came next.
“I don’t like the imbalance of power between us,” Bentley whispered. “I don’t want you to feel as though I am taking advantage of you. Earlier, I thought perhaps that was what you had felt. And the guilt that had turned my stomach as you walked away made it clear that I felt it, too. That’s not what this is.”
“I appreciate that,” Sam said slowly. He searched Bentley’s darkening gaze. “What exactly is this to you, Bentley? Because I have to say, I have no bloody clue what’s happening here. One minute, we detest each other. One minute, we’re at each other’s throats…”
“The next we’re down each other’s throats.” Bentley winked, and Sam barked out a laugh.
