Mr. Hastings (Dearest Edward),
I have kidnapped your sister. I do not apologize, nor do I ask forgiveness for this admission. As you stated earlier this evening, I am never to leave your sister’s side again, and I have no intention of doing so.
(Please do not hit him, Edward.)
An unexpected business situation arose which requires my immediate presence and therefore, your sister’s as well. I anticipate this can be resolved within a fortnight; however, I cannot guarantee that date. Please ease Mrs. Hastings’ mind by informing her we will return in time for the second engagement party.
(Please do not hit him, Edward.)
As no one is aware of our location or departure, we should be safe to wander about freely. If you need to contact us, you may send a letter by way of my townhouse. Mr. Davis will forward the correspondence onto us.
(Please do not hit him, Edward.)
This is a much needed rest for Miss Hastings, considering the ordeal she recently experienced at the hands of her cousin, Mr. Franklin Morris. I accept full responsibility for this irrational escapade and will accept whatever castigation you deem necessary upon our return.
Sincerely,
Benjamin, Lord Westwood and his fiancée, Miss Samantha Hastings
“I really think he may kill you this time.” Samantha folded her hand through Benjamin’s. She laid on her back, in the center of the bed, staring up at the ceiling of their rented rooms.
Tingles raced through Benjamin’s fingers. He glanced up from the letter, lifting her hand to his mouth. “That is a risk I am willing to take.”
“To be a widow before I am a wife.” Samantha shook her head and rolled over, extracting her hand from his. She propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes perusing the letter.
“We are rectifying that situation today.” He pulled her into his embrace, dropping a kiss on her lips.
Samantha’s jaw dropped. She pushed him away. “What do you mean?”
“You and I are getting married.”
“Why today?”
“As much as I enjoy seducing my fiancée, it is important she maintain a respectable reputation. Therefore, should anything occur due to this escapade,”—he wiggled his eyebrows—“you would already be secretly married, and the scandal will vanish.”
“It will not completely vanish,” said Samantha.
“True,” he inclined his head in acceptance, “but it would be far less destructive to your reputation.”
“Compared to yours,” Samantha laughed, “mine is hardly fodder for gossip.”
Benjamin slid off the bed, dropping onto his knees. He took her hand, clasping it between both of his. “Miss Hastings, will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes, I will, Lord Westwood.”
“There will be no more of that,” he said, rising.
“What?”
“Lord.” He leaned over her, his mouth capturing hers, his tongue sliding past her lips, teasing her tongue. Her hands skated up his shirt, wrapping around the back of his head. Drawing him closer, her body warmed under his touch. He grinned against her lips, pulling away.
“We are going to be late, Samantha.”
“Then, I suggest you do not tarry removing my clothing.”
“Miss Hastings!” he exclaimed. “I am shocked by your request.”
She smiled, her face lighting with delight.
It had been a while since he’d seen true joy on her face. Morris would never take that from her again.
Depositing her gently on the bed, he kissed her chastely and rose, folding the missive and placing it on a small desk. “As I said, we have an appointment.”
“I had hoped to distract you.” Samantha stood, crossing the floor and wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his back.
“I find you extremely distracting.” He spun around, pressing his lips to her mouth, desire coursing through his veins, is body hardening, responding to her proximity. She really would be the death of him. His hands closed around her wrists, lifting them from his waist. He glared at her sternly, trying to recall the expression Edward used whenever he was dealing with his sister.
She burst into giggles. “You look like Edward.”
“That was my intention.”
The humor draining from her face, she chewed on her lower lip. “Benjamin, what it something happens to Edward while we are away?”
“I have instructed Mr. Davis to contact us with any important correspondence.”
“Do you trust him?” Samantha tilted her head.
“Mr. Davis has been in my employ for a long time. He has never done anything to jeopardize his post.”
“I heard he used to work for the Shirelys.” Samantha leaned away from Benjamin, lifting the letter from the desk.
“Yes, he confirmed that fact with me.” Benjamin nodded.
“Did he mention the reason he no longer worked with them?” Samantha turned.
“No, merely that he was grateful for his current position.” Benjamin’s forehead creased. Had he underestimated Mr. Davis? The man had been nothing but loyal in his service. Was it all a façade? His eyes flicked over Samantha, fear pooling into his stomach.
“Mr. Davis worked for the Shirely family at the time young Jeremiah died. He left shortly after the boy’s passing.” Samantha twisted her fingers together as she revealed the secret.
Crossing the room, Benjamin drew Samantha into his arms. “The only thing your story proves is Mr. Davis is loyal even after his service has completed. That one fact should put your mind at east.”
She nodded.
“Besides, someone has to witness our union.” He winked. A rap echoed in the room. Samantha twisted in Benjamin’s arms, trembling. Releasing Samantha, Benjamin strode to the door, placing his hands flat against the surface.
“Who is it?”
“Mr. Davis. I have come to collect you and your guest.” Smart man. Without instruction, Mr. Davis did not acknowledge Benjamin’s title or name.
Benjamin unlatched the door and pulled it open to reveal Mr. Davis. He smiled and bowed, entering the room. Once Benjamin closed the door, Mr. Davis moved in front of Samantha and bowed lowed. “My Lady.”
“That is not my title, Mr. Davis.”
“Ah”—he tapped the side of his nose—“it will be soon.”
“Is everything prepared?” asked Benjamin. After locking the door, he joined Samantha, his arm sliding around her waist.
“Yes, my Lord.” Mr. Davis smiled, taking Samantha’s hand. “Miss Hastings, may I say how delighted I am you will become the mistress of the house. If there is ever anything you need, do not hesitate to ask me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davis.” Samantha nodded her head.
“It would be my honor to witness your marriage.” Mr. Davis glanced at Benjamin. “The carriage is ready, my Lord.”
“We will meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes, Mr. Davis.”
He bowed and exited. Benjamin followed him to the door and twisted the key once again.
“Do you intend to lock me in every room we visit?” Samantha arched an eyebrow.
“Only the ones in which I seduce you,” he rumbled, returning to her side. “And since we now have fifteen minutes, I believe you requested I disrobe you, Miss Hastings.”
“Lord Westwood!” Samantha gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock outrage. “How scandalous!”
He laughed, wrapping her in his arms. “I am the World’s Most Wicked Rake.”
“Prove it to me,” dared Samantha, sliding her hands underneath his shirt.
“I shall, Miss Hastings,” he replied, passion raging through his body. “I shall.”