Page 73 of Enemies with an Earl
Damn the adorable, impossible to resist tosspot.
“All right, Felix.” Sam said with an exasperated huff that wasn’t in the least bit exasperated. “But just for a moment.”
Felix’s gaze flicked up to his, something flashing in those amber depths that Sam couldn’t quite interpret. “Just for a moment,” he whispered, an echo of their exchange beneath the willow.
Sam slid atop the bed and maneuvered so he was against the headboard, and Felix rested in front of him. Felix’s head dropped back against Sam’s chest, and he wriggled until he was nestled firmly in Sam’s arms. A soft thrumming hum built inside Sam, growing warmer, stronger, spreading all the way through him, filling each limb, tingling through his fingers and toes.
Every one of his senses heightened. His ears picked up each one of Felix’s soft breaths, every rustle of the bedlinens. He tightened his hold, Felix’s heat sinking into him, the silkiness of Felix’s amber curls feathering against his chin. Felix’s hands wandered until they found Sam’s, the soft glide sending prickles dancing over Sam’s skin. And as though they’d done this a thousand times, Felix wove their fingers together.
It was a perfect fit.
And that more than anything scared the shite out of Sam.
37
Sam
“Ireceivedanotherletterfrom Robbie,” Molls said from across the table in the servants’ quarters.
He and Molly tried to have small bites to eat together when they could. The kitchen was always a hustle bustle of servants rushing in and out, whether seeing to tasks or grabbing a bit of sustenance to see them through the day.
“He and Neville are doing well. They’re living with a woman named Colette at the moment, and theyloveher. Said she’s just like Cook.” She continued chattering happily about the things Robbie and his partner had been about.
Sam was delighted for the young footman, but the conversation faded in and out, his thoughts elsewhere.
Ash was married now. He and Lady Felicity had wed in a small ceremony in the local chapel. It had been a very quiet event, little flourish—the benefit of securing a common license and marrying in haste. Sam could only imagine the public spectacle a duke marrying would bring. And he couldn’t picture his reclusive best mate handling that attention well.
So, it was a perfect wedding for the two of them. And pretty soon, the rest of the Jennings family would be departing. Which was why Sam was stuck in his head. It appeared that Lady Bentley wanted to remain at least another sennight to be with her daughter. But Sam wasn’t certain what Felix’s plans were, given he’d already been here a sennight with his sister and was probably tiring of Devonford Castle. He was definitely tiring of Sam if the way he was avoiding Sam’s glances was any indication. Sam gnawed on his lip. He wasn’t sure the man even remembered his drunken night spent in Sam’s arms.
“You’re quiet,” Molls said, a bite of cheese hovering in front of her mouth.
Sam tore off another piece of bread. “I beg your pardon, Molls. Lost in thought, I suppose.”
“Thought? You have those?”
Sam chucked his piece of bread at her, and she darted out of the way, a grin breaking out on her face. “Imp.”
Her grin softened. “So, why so quiet?”
He glanced toward the bells on the wall. One in particular. One that, if it rang, Sam didn’t need to answer any longer. BecauseGileswas here. The poor old cove. Sam was a little afraid the castle was going to do the man in. Three flights of stairs just to advance one floor was a lot for those knobby knees. He’d offered to step in for the man. But the man had clearly been much too proud to take the assistance. Felix probably wouldn’t have been pleased anyhow. But Sam was starting to get desperate, looking for excuses to even just lay eyes on the man.
“No reason. Have you seen Giles, the Bentley valet? I wanted to make sure he hadn’t run out of boot polish.”
Molly cocked her head, a lock of brown hair falling over her cheek. “He departed, didn’t you know? Lord Bentley left earlier this morning, obviously with his valet in tow.”
The ground seemed to tilt out from beneath him, a muted buzzing filling his ears. Felix had left. Again. He pulled roughly at his cravat, the fabric suddenly much too tight. Like maybe Felix had tied it instead, with the intention of taking away Sam’s ability to breathe. It sure as bloody hell felt like that was what the man had done.
“This all feels oddly familiar,” Sam finally said, somehow managing to keep his words even.
“Oh?”
“We had nearly this same conversation eight months ago.” He shoved a piece of bread in his mouth, taking away the need to force a smile he knew he couldn’t summon. Only now his mouth was dry as the sodding desert, and he had a hunk of bread he’d probably never manage to swallow stuck in his mouth.
“Huh. Did we, truly?” Molls chuckled. “I don’t remember that at all.”
Sam remembered. With alarming clarity. He shrugged noncommittally.
Well, he guessed that was that, wasn’t it? It didn’t get more clear than a man slipping away without a farewell. His stomach turned over. Twice.
