Samantha (Barrett 2)

She searched his face intently. "Will we finish what we just began?"

"Yes." Even as he uttered the vow, Rem knew he intended to keep it. Neither of them could retreat from this madness, return to being the people they were before. It was too late ... for both of them.

Soberly, Rem reached around to button her gown. "The next time you're in my arms, I promise to bring you every exquisite pleasure you've ever dreamed of, fulfill aches you never even knew you possessed."

"When?"

His eyes smoldered. "The instant I get you alone." He framed her face between his hands, kissed her softly. "Will you be all right?"

"Not nearly as all right as I will be next time."

His body leaped at the suggestive gleam in her eye. "Samantha—"

"My lady? Are you well?"

"Yes, Cynthia, of course I'm well," Sammy snapped loudly enough for her friend to hear. "I'll be out in a minute."

"I'm going to throttle your new maid," Rem muttered.

"I'd better go." Sammy eased away reluctantly.

"Till tomorrow, imp." He pressed his lips to her palm.

"Remington. . ." Sammy stared at his mouth as it caressed her fingers. "Until we find the time we need to be alone ... until then"—she raised her chin, candidly uttering her solemn proclamation—"I don't want you with other women."

Rem didn't mock her as she'd feared. He didn't even smile. "Your fate is sealed, my lady," he murmured huskily, his breath warm against her skin. "Since that night at Boydry's, I haven't been with another woman. I haven't even wanted one. Only you."

"Not even at Annie's?"

"Not even at Annie's."

"I'm glad." Sammy's smile was radiant, her belief instant and absolute.

Humbled by her faith in him, Rem felt that now-familiar emotion unfurl in his chest. "Go, love." He leaned across to open the carriage door. "Before your Cynthia has my head."

Sammy nodded, dazedly accepting the waiting footman's assistance in alighting, profusely thanking the stupefied servant for his exceptional efforts. In truth, she wanted to hug the man ... and everyone else for the gift she'd just been given.

Her elation did not extend to Cynthia.

Waiting only until Rein's footman had abandoned his post, Sammy confronted her friend, mincing no words.

"What exactly did you think you were doing?"

"Saving you." Cynthia gestured toward the Worth family crest, emblazoned on the gleaming carriage side. "It's obvious who brought you home. It's not hard to imagine what was going on in there," She scrutinized Sammy's disheveled appearance. "It appears I didn't interrupt a moment too soon."

More exasperated than embarrassed, Sammy headed toward the house. "Right now, I'm far too ecstatic to be angry," she called over her shoulder. "However, when my feet touch the ground, I have a few things to say to you."

She disappeared into the entranceway.

Cynthia inhaled sharply, frustrated and worried over Samantha's naiveté. Naught but pain could result from the preoccupation her young mistress had with the Earl of Gresham. Yet Samantha refused to see the reality of where her adoration was heading. Well then, it was up to her to intervene, Cynthia thought, before it was too late.

Taking advantage of her unexpected opportunity, Cynthia stalked forward and yanked open the carriage door. "I'd like a word with you, my lord."

Rem leveled his cool gray stare at her. "That would probably be wise. Perhaps you could explain your rather curious display of morality."

"I know what you think of me, Lord Gresham. In truth, I couldn't care less. But Samantha is a different situation entirely. I want you to leave her alone."

"You've known her several days, and are already prepared to assume the role of her protector?"