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Sam swallowed, thinking over his words. “You wouldn’t have hurt me.”
John laughed without humor, a hollow sound that made her stomach constrict unpleasantly. “You shouldn’t say that, Sam. I could and I would hurt you. That’s who I am.”
Sam turned at that, the same moment her corset dropped to the floor. She stepped over it, standing in a single chemise, and her underthings, shivering in the cold shed. But she had to make him understand. “You would never hurt me, John. No matter how angry you are. I am not afraid of you.” She placed a hand against his cheek again, but he twisted away from her touch.
“I don’t want you to have any illusions about me, Sam. Next time I’m in this mood, you run to your room and bolt the door. I can’t control myself when I’m in a temper.”
Sam shook her head, about to argue again, but he cut her off.
“You don’t know me, Sam. Please, do not convince yourself otherwise. My painful past is the one that defines me. This anger I have inside me has helped me survive, has helped me kill. God help me, I never want to hurt you when I’m in that state of mind.”
“Very well.” Sam took a step back and hugged herself, feeling colder than she had a moment ago. “All right, I shall do as you ask if it makes you feel better, but I am not afraid of you. I know you would never hurt me.”
John reached out and ran his hands over her arms. Then he took off his coat and placed it on the bed. “Sit,” he said as he started unbuttoning his shirt.
Sam’s mouth went dry as the shirt started gaping open, revealing his muscled neck and chest, heat rising from her throat to her face. If this was his idea of warming her up, it was working.
He took off his shirt and threw it over her shoulders, bringing his warmth and scent with it. Sam inhaled and huddled farther inside his shirt. John sat on the bed and collected her against his chest. Sam tucked her feet under her bottom and turned to settle comfortably in the circle of his arms, burrowing her head in the crook of his neck. She could smell his skin, the rain mixed in with his sweat, and had an uncontrollable urge to burrow her nose inside his warmth.
She pressed her lips against his neck instead and moaned lightly.
“Sam?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?” he asked, laughter lining his voice.
“Inhaling your scent.”
“I don’t believe I smell that good,” he said with a chuckle.
“For me, you smell like home.”
John drew her deeper into his embrace and kissed her on the top of her head. “I am sorry,” he whispered.
Sam raised her head and looked up at him. His eyes were troubled again. She wanted to wipe that look from his face and never see it again.
“I am sorry I yelled at you and let the anger get the better of me. I shall try to rein in my temper.” He shook his head. “I can give you millions of excuses for why I acted that way, but none of them will be enough.”
“How about you give me one?” She kissed him lightly on his chin, his stubble tickling her lips. “Give me at least one excuse, I want to understand you better.”
John heaved a troubled sigh. “My father, he wasn’t very good to me. I do not have pleasant memories of this place, especially not the master’s chambers. I am a third son and…” He grimaced and Sam’s heart ached for him. “I was never meant to inherit this place. That chamber was never meant for me, and I never wanted it either.”
She licked her lips. “You can’t live constantly in the past, afraid of your memories, unable to move on because of them. We can make new memories, lovely memories in that room.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know how.”
“Then let me show you.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against his.
It was a soft, comforting kiss. She didn’t mean to arouse him. But John crushed her closer to him with a groan and took her mouth with his, licking against the seam of her lips, urging her to open for him. As soon as she did, he plunged his tongue inside her heat, devouring her. He tasted of ale and him, that taste of him that was extremely alluring. She shyly touched her tongue against his and he groaned.
“Sam,” he growled against her lips. “We shouldn’t… I can’t take you here.”
“I want to.” She plunged her fingers into his hair, drawing his head closer to hers, kissing him with all her ardor. She wanted to make him forget all his troubles, to distract him, to heal him. She knew she couldn’t, it was a journey he had to make on his own, but she could at least comfort him in the cold of the night.
He softly laid her down with her back on the bed and kissed her chin, her throat, and ventured lower, licking and nibbling on her flesh. He reached her breast and took her nipple into his mouth through her shift. Sam moaned and arched against him, drawing her breast farther into his mouth, wanting to feel that contact again, that feeling that shot from her breast and settled between her legs. He swirled his tongue and there it was again.
Sam put her hands on his head and held him tight. He kissed, licked, and nibbled on her nipple, driving her insane. She moaned, unable to form a coherent thought. He moved on to her other breast and the cold air wafted against the abandoned nipple. She covered it with her hand and John immediately nudged it away, covering her with his palm. He played with her nipple, drawing circles with his fingers, pressing it, pinching it all the while his tongue did wicked things to her other breast.
