Chapter Two

 

      Lord Haughton had forgotten to tell Mrs. Howell that there would be two extra men at the high board for the evening meal. Luckily Josephine, with her usual sensible foresight, had informed the cook, and the menu was delicious – a side of rare beef, a large salmon caught that day from the icy waters of the Severn, small meat pies for each person, and a seemingly endless supply of a delicate white wine.

      Cade ate until he felt he would burst. He noticed, too, that Lord Haughton’s daughters did not simper and pick at their food like so many ladies at court. Samara, in particular, seemed to enjoy her food and attacked the beef with bold enthusiasm. He tried several times throughout the course of the meal to get her attention, but she ignored him, dividing her concentration between Josephine on her left and little Gemma on her right.

      Damn, but she was gorgeous, he thought to himself. She was garbed in a simple but alluring violet velvet gown, which seemed to intensify her blazing red hair, bronze-flecked green eyes, and creamy skin with its slight hint of gold. Her face was almost catlike, with its high brow and cheekbones, pointed little chin, and the almost imperceptible slant to her eyes. She had attempted to tame her unruly mass of heavy curls by tying them back with a lilac silk ribbon, but several ringlets had come loose and hung in tempting disarray about her face. He imagined tearing that ribbon away and letting her hair swirl down around them like a thick silk curtain, enveloping them in their own private world. There was nothing subtle about Lady Samara Haughton’s beauty, and if what he had seen of her personality that day was any indication, she would definitely make for a distracting tumble.

      He didn’t realize he was staring until her eyes suddenly met his, head-on. To his intense mortification, he flushed, and she gave him a sly little smile, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Undisguised heat crept into her gaze as she looked back at him, caressing his face with her glittering eyes. He was unable to tear his own gaze away from her and stared dumbly, until she casually turned away and resumed conversation with Josephine. He blinked hard, feeling the need to shake his head to clear it out, flushing even redder as he heard a badly-disguised chuckle from Hayden, who never missed anything. Damn the b***h, he thought fiercely. She must have been ruined. No mere virgin could look at a man the way she just did, and inspire the feelings she’d caused in him!

      “She must have forgiven you,” Hayden said low, grinning wickedly.

“She is mine tonight,” Cade muttered back.

“I don’t think she’ll complain,” his cousin replied. “In fact, from the looks of her, I think she’ll welcome it!”

The earl of Bolingbroke, oblivious to the exchange, sat quietly at the head of the table, picking at his meat pie. They had made arrangements for twenty of Bolingbroke’s men to escort Cade and Hayden back to Easton Castle the next morning. The snow had stopped and while it still coated the ground in a thick blanket, it would be easier to travel back now that there was no blinding storm. Having finalized the plans, Lord Haughton had nothing left to say, and so he did not speak. He was not the best of hosts, but Cade had been around enough people to realize that the earl was a man in pain. Obviously never recovered from the death of his wife, the hurt was still as fresh as if it had happened that very day. Cade felt sympathy for the gray wisp of a man, and even more for his daughters, who had obviously grown up with little parental attention. Then he caught a flash of fiery hair out of the corner of his eye, and sympathy melted into desire. He could hardly wait for the meal to be over. He’d always welcomed a challenge, and the idea of taming that little wildcat Samara was almost more delicious than he could handle. He anticipated a struggle – obviously she was as forceful as he was, and it would not be easy to bend her to his will. But he would. Then, when he had her warm and purring in his arms, he would take the rest of the night to show her things he wagered no stable boy had ever even imagined.

Samara, meanwhile, was fuming beneath her controlled veneer. The earl of Easton was abhorrent. He barged into her house, scaring her and her sisters half to death, then had the audacity to manhandle her. Now, he was sitting across from her as she tried to enjoy her supper, staring as if he had never seen a woman before! She felt him looking, though she strained not to make eye contact with him and engaged in meaningless conversation with her sisters – Josephine, who was always too worried about their father to be interesting, and Gemma, who, as usual, was lost in her own imaginary world and was speaking softly to herself. Finally, when she could no longer stand the feeling of his eyes on her, she looked back at him. Samara knew enough about men to recognize desire when she saw it, and it was there, plain as day, and hot, melting the ice in those blue eyes of his. Deciding to have a little fun with the insufferable Cade Badgley, she flirted with him from her side of the high board, gazing at his face as if he were the handsomest man she’d ever seen. Samara had plenty of practice with flirting, and could tell when her little game began to have the desired effect. His eyes glazed over, his face grew flushed, and his breathing was slightly ragged, though he tried hard not to show it. He was experienced, of that she had not a doubt, so her little victory was extra satisfying. Concealing her triumph, she looked away from him, and pretended not to notice the whispered conversation that followed between the earl and the viscount.

After the dessert, which had been a delicious apple tart with thick sweet cream, the earl of Bolingbroke seemed to return to the present time and invited his guests into his study to share a bottle of brandy. Cade felt he had drunk enough, but the sad little man was, after all, loaning out his men to help repair Easton Castle. Cade and Hayden held a conversation with their eyes – something they’d always been able to do, being as close as they were – and they silently agreed to follow Lord Haughton into his study.

Samara tried to engage her sisters in a game of cards, but they both pleaded exhaustion and went to their own chambers. Samara was alone for the rest of the evening then, and decided the prospect was not an unpleasant one. She found her maidservant, Betty, in her chamber, dozing before the fire.

“Betty,” Samara whispered, shaking the maid by her shoulder. Betty leapt from her chair, her eyes wide.

“Oh, my lady! I don’t know what came over me – it was so warm and cozy in here, and before I knew it I was drifting off – “

“It’s all right, Betty,” Samara said. “However, it is late, and I wish to bathe before bed. Please get my tub and ask the kitchen boys to bring up some hot water for me.”

“Yes, my lady,” Betty said, bobbing an obedient curtsy and bustling from the room.

Samara stripped off her gown, chemise and stockings and laid them on her bed for Betty to put away. She twisted up her long mass of wild red curls and pinned it so it wouldn’t get wet in the tub. She slipped into a chamber robe just in time, for the kitchen boys were already arriving with buckets of steaming water.

Betty pulled out Samara’s large oak tub from the corner of the room and stepped back to allow the water to be poured in. When the tub was ready, the boys left Samara’s chamber and Betty helped her climb in.

“You may retire for the evening, Betty,” Samara told her maid. “I wish to soak, and I know you’re tired.”

“It’s all right, my lady,” Betty protested.

“Really,” Samara said. “I can bathe myself. Go to bed, and I shall see you in the morning.” She bestowed a sweet smile upon the older woman.

Convinced, Betty left for her own tiny chamber, which was attached to Samara’s so she was close by in case her mistress needed her in the night.

Samara sank into the warm water, exhaling as she felt the tension of the day ebbing away. She laid her head back against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes in bliss, savoring the sensation of the gently lapping water and the soothing scent of her lavender bath oil. There was nothing she loved more than a hot bath at the end of the day – it relaxed her enough to sleep, and she ended up smelling a lot better than most people she knew.

She felt herself, on edge since the moment the earl of Easton had stormed her home, begin to relax. Pointing her toes, she lifted one leg out of the water, stretching it out as far as she could. Then she lifted the other, and did the same thing, reveling in the languid sensation that began to spread throughout her body.

That was how Cade Badgley found her, when he came through the door to her bedchamber.

Samara dropped her leg back into the water with a noisy splash, rapidly ascertaining that nothing of vital importance was showing. She contemplated shrieking, letting the whole household know that their esteemed guest had barged in on her in her bath, but quickly changed her mind. Despite the compromising position in which he had caught her – how had he known which chamber was hers? –  she could still have a little bit of fun with him. After that, they would be even.

“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?” she asked coolly.

His eyes dropped to her body, fully submerged in the fragrant water.

“I was hoping you might ask that,” he said low, taking in the expanse of creamy white skin beneath the water.

“Oh, really?” she drawled. Her heart raced nervously – what was she doing? – and she lazily stretched her arm out and pointed to a cake of soap on the floor beside her tub. “Would you get that for me? It is out of my reach.”

Wordlessly, Cade reached down and picked up the cake of soap, handing it to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him, and she smiled coyly as she dipped the soap into the water and began to wash. He spotted the chair beside her tub and sat down, apparently getting comfortable.

Swine! she thought furiously, although she struggled not to let her face betray her emotions. Men were animals! Did he really think that she wanted him in her chamber, watching her bathe? Did he think she was one of his court w****s, whose only purpose and desire was to pleasure him? Well, she would show him. She knew men – she had been alternately flirting with them and slapping them since she was a maid of eleven. She would get him to a breaking point, and then turn him away. He would not dare to rape her in her father’s house!

Cade sat, watching her soap her limbs. When she had rinsed herself, he silently stood and took the cake of soap from her hands, noticing that it was sweetly scented with flowers. Her bath water smelled of lavender, and he thought it was the perfect scent for her – spicy and sweet at the same time. He knelt beside her tub, sensing her surprise as he rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt and began to soap her long white back.

She tensed beneath his fingers, and he could feel it, but neither of them said a word. Drops of water sluiced down her back, and he admired the graceful curve of it. She was long and slender, and although he usually preferred a little more meat on the bones of his women, he thought it suited her. He stared at the damp red curls stuck to the nape of her neck, and when she lowered her head, he saw that her pale cheek was flushed. Whether it was from the heat of her bath water or from anticipation, he did not know, but he thought it more than becoming.

He took up the small bucket next to the tub and submerged it, letting it fill with water. He poured it over her back, rinsing the soap from her skin. She shivered slightly in the air of the chamber, which was slightly cool despite the blazing fire.

“You are finished,” he said softly.

“Will you hand me my drying sheet?” Samara asked him.

He stood and went over to the fire, where her drying sheet lay over the back of a chair. Samara took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she’d actually gone this far, but now was the moment of truth. As he turned to face her with the sheet in his hand she stood up in her tub, removing the pins from her hair so it tumbled over her ivory shoulders, and he stopped dead with a sharp intake of breath.

He had never seen anything more beautiful than Samara Haughton. She was fire and cream, her hair wild and her green eyes flashing. A primitive urge raged up inside him and before he could stop himself, he was by her side, his arms around her, lifting her from her tub and setting her down on the floor of her chamber. Without even knowing what he was doing, he lowered his head to her and captured her mouth in a kiss that was almost angry in its ferocity.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, Samara thought foggily as her knees buckled beneath him. Cade had his strong arm under her in an instant, supporting her, and lifted her into his arms. He carried her over to her bed, where he tossed her naked on top of the soft down coverlet before sinking down to join her.

She knew she must stop him before her little game got carried away, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth form the words. His hand was in her hair, gripping so that he was able to move her head to expose her long white throat to his lips. His other hand roamed freely over her body, grazing places she’d never even touched herself, but not lingering in any one spot for very long. His fingers left a trail of fire wherever they moved, and she squirmed beneath him, unable to help herself. His mouth was scorching her, and suddenly, unable to help herself, she gave a soft cry.

Suddenly there was a rustling from Betty’s small chamber. Cade and Samara froze, and then Betty’s voice sounded through the door.

“My lady? Is everything all right?”

“Yes, Betty,” Samara called out, clapping a hand over Cade’s mouth. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I stubbed my toe against the bedpost.” As she spoke, she rolled out from under Cade. She knew what was coming – Betty had been her maid since she was a baby, and Samara knew her well. The doorknob separating Samara’s chamber from Betty’s began to turn.

More quickly than Cade had ever seen anyone move, Samara was wrapped in her drying sheet and pushing him toward the door. He had no time to react, to protest. She opened the door and shoved him out into the hall, then closed and locked the door behind him. She was just in time. Betty was entering the room, her nightcap crooked, her eyes bleary with sleep.

“I’m fine, Betty,” Samara said smoothly, despite the racing of her heart. “I took a long bath, and I’m just drying off and getting ready for bed. Please, go back to your chamber and get some sleep. If I know you, you’ll be up at first light bringing my breakfast.” Samara smiled at the tiny older woman, touching her on the shoulder as she gently shepherded her back into the small chamber.

“If you’re sure – “ Betty began.

“I am,” Samara said firmly. “Good night, Betty.” She closed the door behind her maid and padded back into her chamber, shaking with the fear at the fact that she had very nearly been caught in an extremely compromising situation. She dried off and slipped into her nightgown, quickly braiding her hair and tying it with a bit of ribbon. A soft knocking sounded on her chamber door, but she ignored it. The game was over. She had paid him back for frightening her and her sisters. She had had her fun, and nearly been ruined in the process. She did not want to play with the earl of Easton any longer.

The knocking continued with intermittent regularity for a few minutes. Eventually the earl seemed to give up, and the persistent tapping stopped. She heard his footsteps as they faded down the hall.

There, she thought with a touch of smugness, although her legs were still quivering. Sweet dreams, my lord of Easton.

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[TLK]

Names + lust.