Free Sinful Liaisons by Samantha Holt Page A

refreshing about giving oneself up to another for control, particularly when one was used to being in control every moment of every day.
    “No.” She motioned to breakfast on the side table. “Won’t you help yourself?”
    He grinned at her. “I find myself quite famished.”
    “Exercise will do that to you.”
    “Indeed. And we both had quite a bit of exercise last night. Though, Evelyn, you could have awoken me this morning.”
    She wouldn’t admit she had found the sight of him sleeping wholly arresting. How could she bring herself to wake the beautiful man when he looked so at peace? She had spent several minutes watching him breathe deeply and marvelling at the feel of having another person in her bed again. In truth, she’d forgotten what it was like and hadn’t realised quite how lonely she’d felt going to bed alone every night.
    “I thought you needed your rest.”
    “I’m no old man,” he scoffed before turning away to load his plate with sausages and bacon. When he came to sit to the side of her, he nodded to the letter she still clasped. “Why do you scowl at that letter?”
    Evelyn folded the paper and stuffed it into the pocket of her skirt. “You are curious are you not? Surely it is none of your business?”
    “Your welfare is my business. If something is vexing you, I would do what I could to resolve it.”
    Meeting his sincere gaze, she debated telling him. The great weight pressing down her chest begged her to release it all upon him. But she’d been doing everything alone for so long. Could she really share her problems with a man who was still virtually unknown to her?
    The concern in his gaze was the undoing of her. Perhaps it had been his generous lovemaking or the way they now knew each other’s bodies so completely that fostered a sense of closeness, or perhaps it was that in him she recognised so much of herself. Either way, she drew out the letter and unfolded it before pushing it toward him.
    “I recently received a letter from George Whitbury. He claimed that my late husband made a wager with him many years ago. Mr. Whitbury has been out of the country for several years but now he has returned and wishes to claim his winnings.”
    Pierce drew the letter over and scanned the contents. He sighed. “I’m sorry. Many an acre of land has been lost at cards. But at least it isn’t the house or more.”
    “But I don’t understand it. Rupert did not gamble. I can’t believe this is real.”
    “Are you sure? I do not wish to disparage him but I’ve met many a man whose family was in complete ignorance of their gambling habit. It’s not until the creditors are upon their doorstep do they find out.”
    “Does your family know of yours?”
    He gave a wry grin. “Indeed they do. Some of my brothers enjoy the occasional wager themselves but Julian didn’t approve. He’d threatened to cut me off many a time.”
    She tapped the letter. “I knew Rupert well. I loved him dearly and we had no secrets from each other.” Pierce looked doubtful. “Do I seem a fool to you?”
    “No, not at all.”
    “Then I can’t believe that Rupert fooled me. I have to believe that this is a forgery.”
    He lifted the letter again and studied it. “A signature is easily forged but proving so isn’t easy. Have you spoke to the witness? Sir Lloyd. Doesn’t he own several cotton mills?”
    “Yes, but I didn’t know his name until this morning. He promised to send on proof of the wager after that night at Stourbridge.”
    “George Whitbury was the man you met there?”
    “Yes,” she admitted. “That was the only reason I wished to go there. I think he’d hoped his location would put me off meeting with him.”
    He shook his head. “Why you not say something?”
    “What business was it of yours?”
    Releasing a long breath, he took her hand. “Evelyn, you’re an independent woman but there’s no sense in struggling on your own. After all, are you not paying me a handsome sum? You might