about three hours. Will that do?”
“That sounds perfect.” She smiled, obviously feeling victorious, and started toward the house once more.
“Samantha,” he called, catching her hand and pulling her back to face him. “The price for losing tonight will be very high. I want to see you naked.”
Samantha let herself into her room and then collapsed upon the huge bed, staring up at the ceiling, Lord Chattel’s words ringing in her head. I want to see you naked.
She shivered and hugged her arms across her chest, wondering if he really meant what he said or if he was just playing games with her.
What was she doing?
The passion she felt every time she looked at him was something entirely new to her, but something she desperately wanted to explore. She wanted to be naked with him. Perhaps it was wrong of her, but really, who would be hurt if she gave into it? She was a widow, after all, soon to cut her hair and pretend to be a man in a dangerous game. Her reputation may be tattered in a month’s time anyway if she was discovered to be a woman.
Remembering Lady Morgan, she wondered how this evening would affect his courtship. He certainly wouldn’t completely change his life after one sight of her naked body. If she thought that, then she would be a fool. It probably wouldn’t change their future at all. She would go on to the tournament and he would go on to wed Lady Morgan and do his medical research. Perhaps they would never see one another again. They certainly didn’t belong in the same social circle.
Pushing to her feet, she crossed to the window and t oyed with the lush velvet curtains, looking out at the park below. She wished she could stop time and stay in this place forever. The fading sunlight bathed the gardens and marble statues in a warm, golden glow. Everywhere she looked she saw beauty, down to the last detail, from the neatness of the rows of trees to the sparkling water in the ponds. There were wild deer foraging in the farthest part of the park. She enjoyed looking at the scene and imagined sitting here to paint it.
Paint it? What was she thinking? She would never be here that long. She frowned as her mind turned back to Lord Chattel’s announcement that he was courting another woman. What was she like? Probably perfect in every way, saying and doing all the appropriate things, unlike her.
Samantha felt the old competitive spirit rise in her again. Since she was a young girl she had always enjoyed taking on a challenge, especially with the boys, whether it was a running race or a game of cricket. It was hard for her not to compete. And the boys seemed to like her more for it. By the time she reached maturity, she found she never really had to compete for a man’s attention. They usually swarmed around her. Those village boys, and even Henry, were quite different from Lord Chattel. She was sure that competing with Lady Morgan would be competing on a whole new level — and she may not have all the right tools at her disposal.
Crossing the room , she picked up her father’s pipe and smelled the sweet, earthy aroma. She had brought it with her to remind herself of him and of home. She needed to regain her focus on her purpose here: winning the tournament and saving her farm. Regardless of her attraction to Lord Chattel, she still needed his help to win the tournament. She resolved to stop thinking of him as a man and start thinking of him as only a teacher. She needed to quit dreaming about replacing Lady Morgan and start concentrating on preparing for the challenge of her life.
A few hours later, a determined Samantha made her way downstairs to the study, with only a few butterflies in her stomach. Perhaps Lord Chattel would have forgotten about his earlier statement. Not likely. The door was shut, so she took a few moments to gather her courage before knocking.
“Come in,” he called from within.
She opened the door and his gaze took in every inch of her as she
“That sounds perfect.” She smiled, obviously feeling victorious, and started toward the house once more.
“Samantha,” he called, catching her hand and pulling her back to face him. “The price for losing tonight will be very high. I want to see you naked.”
Samantha let herself into her room and then collapsed upon the huge bed, staring up at the ceiling, Lord Chattel’s words ringing in her head. I want to see you naked.
She shivered and hugged her arms across her chest, wondering if he really meant what he said or if he was just playing games with her.
What was she doing?
The passion she felt every time she looked at him was something entirely new to her, but something she desperately wanted to explore. She wanted to be naked with him. Perhaps it was wrong of her, but really, who would be hurt if she gave into it? She was a widow, after all, soon to cut her hair and pretend to be a man in a dangerous game. Her reputation may be tattered in a month’s time anyway if she was discovered to be a woman.
Remembering Lady Morgan, she wondered how this evening would affect his courtship. He certainly wouldn’t completely change his life after one sight of her naked body. If she thought that, then she would be a fool. It probably wouldn’t change their future at all. She would go on to the tournament and he would go on to wed Lady Morgan and do his medical research. Perhaps they would never see one another again. They certainly didn’t belong in the same social circle.
Pushing to her feet, she crossed to the window and t oyed with the lush velvet curtains, looking out at the park below. She wished she could stop time and stay in this place forever. The fading sunlight bathed the gardens and marble statues in a warm, golden glow. Everywhere she looked she saw beauty, down to the last detail, from the neatness of the rows of trees to the sparkling water in the ponds. There were wild deer foraging in the farthest part of the park. She enjoyed looking at the scene and imagined sitting here to paint it.
Paint it? What was she thinking? She would never be here that long. She frowned as her mind turned back to Lord Chattel’s announcement that he was courting another woman. What was she like? Probably perfect in every way, saying and doing all the appropriate things, unlike her.
Samantha felt the old competitive spirit rise in her again. Since she was a young girl she had always enjoyed taking on a challenge, especially with the boys, whether it was a running race or a game of cricket. It was hard for her not to compete. And the boys seemed to like her more for it. By the time she reached maturity, she found she never really had to compete for a man’s attention. They usually swarmed around her. Those village boys, and even Henry, were quite different from Lord Chattel. She was sure that competing with Lady Morgan would be competing on a whole new level — and she may not have all the right tools at her disposal.
Crossing the room , she picked up her father’s pipe and smelled the sweet, earthy aroma. She had brought it with her to remind herself of him and of home. She needed to regain her focus on her purpose here: winning the tournament and saving her farm. Regardless of her attraction to Lord Chattel, she still needed his help to win the tournament. She resolved to stop thinking of him as a man and start thinking of him as only a teacher. She needed to quit dreaming about replacing Lady Morgan and start concentrating on preparing for the challenge of her life.
A few hours later, a determined Samantha made her way downstairs to the study, with only a few butterflies in her stomach. Perhaps Lord Chattel would have forgotten about his earlier statement. Not likely. The door was shut, so she took a few moments to gather her courage before knocking.
“Come in,” he called from within.
She opened the door and his gaze took in every inch of her as she
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