An Imperfect Engagement by Alyssa Drake

Author:Alyssa Drake
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Alyssa Drake

Chapter Fourteen

Day 4

“Is there a legitimate reason why you voluntarily abandoned a perfectly good bed in favor of these stiff chairs?”

Sam’s eyes popped open, her head snapping up. Lord Westwood resided in the adjacent armchair, his long limbs folded in a reclined position, his lips curved in a pleasant smile. The bruising on his face, diminished over the past few days, was replaced by dark circles under his eyes—an indication of sleeplessness.

“I have nightmares,” Sam replied, still reeling from the sudden shock of discovering Lord Westwood sitting beside her in the library.

“I am quite aware of your nocturnal difficulties… everyone in the house can hear you scream.” His weary voice held an edge of concern.

Sam’s mouth opened into a tiny “o.” She flushed but refused to look away for fear he might vanish. Her hands twisted in her lap. “Who told you?”

“Thomas,” Lord Westwood replied, lifting a glass from the nearby table. He sipped it slowly, watching Sam over the rim.

“Is that why you came?”

“That is one of the reasons.” He dropped the glass lightly on the table again, turning his full attention to Sam. “Are they always of your cousin?”

“Yes.” She nodded and shivered, Franklin’s leering face floated into her mind.

“If I were here, do you believe they would desist?”

She wanted to lie, wanted him to stay, but she could not. She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to his boots, muddied from the recent storm. “No,” she whispered miserably.

The chair groaned as Lord Westwood leaned forward, reaching out his hand to tip Sam’s chin up. Before he could touch her, Sam shrank away from him, vehemently shaking her head.

“Please, no. If you are a dream, you will disappear as soon as you touch me, and if you are really here,” she paused and exhaled slowly, “I cannot bear to watch you leave again.”

His green eyes burned, a myriad of emotions passed through them. With a sigh, he retracted his fingers and relaxed into the chair. “I am an illusion.”

“For a mirage, you look exhausted,” Sam murmured.

“It stems from not sleeping in my bed.” A hint of wickedness tinted Lord Westwood’s half-smile. “However, that should not keep you from its decadent softness.”

Sam crossed her arms. “I refuse to sleep in your chamber until you do.”

“Is that a fact?” Lord Westwood arched an eyebrow. “I am intrigued by your request. However, I am surprised to learn your brother has not required you to discontinue this nonsense.” He gestured at the room.

“Wilhelmina has been distracting him,” Sam replied with a minute smile.

“I see.” Lord Westwood grinned, his eyes roving over her. “You are quite distracting yourself. Had we more time, I might accept your offer and put you to bed properly.”

A tingle ran the length of Sam’s spine, pooling in her abdomen. She cocked her head to the side, considering his statement. “Would that convince you to stay?”

“Would you forego your inane plot to ensnare Mr. Morris?” Lord Westwood volleyed in a dark whisper.

“No,” Sam replied. She frowned. “Have you no faith in me?"

“I have no doubt your plan will work, Miss Hastings.

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