Free The Only One by Samanthya Wyatt Page B

the Mississippi. The two-story house with its white walls and curved stairs on each side adjoining the balcony.” Her eyes met his. “See? It’s not so hard.”
    “A man does not wax poetic about his home the way a woman does.”
    “Ah. Then you are ready to admit I am a woman?”
    Did he think her keen? Admirably so.
    “I admit you are a female.” He frowned. “An exasperating one.”
    “It is a start.” Her fingers smoothed a wrinkle in her gown. “Do you miss your homeland?”
    “There is no place like a man’s home.” He studied the sun in the middle of a clear blue sky. Swirls of white gave hint of the clouds lingering on the horizon. On the other side of the ocean lay the land of his birth. His chest rumbled with a deep sigh. He missed his old life more than he missed Nethersall Castle.
    “My house is made of stone and timber, built in the thirteenth century. Generations of dukes have lived there.” He snatched a blade of grass and stuck the thing between his teeth. “With each generation, the new duke expanded the structure, adding more rooms, another tower—as if it weren’t big enough. Three stories, five towers, a maze of rooms such that you would need a charted map. Iron grillwork, stone stairs on the outside, polished oak on the inside. Trees, meadows, flowerbeds, high-climbing rose bushes. A vineyard. The Okeanos Tower, which means ‘ocean,’ borders the cliff’s edge. Oft times I stand on the balustrade watching the waves smash against the rocky shore. Do my best thinking then.”
    “It sounds enchanting.”
    Her voice echoed too close to his ear. Her breath grazed his cheek. He jerked back. When the hell had she moved so close? He tossed the weed aside.
    “Don’t you like me?”
    “As much as I like any member of your family.”
    “I meant you might like me a bit more. Like a . . .”
    “The daughter of a friend,” he finished for her.
    She chewed her luscious lip again. “Well, yes. And . . .”
    “And what?”
    “Do you desire me?”
    God spare me . When he kissed the girl, he should have spanked her instead. The thought created an image of her body spread across his lap, her rump covered in tan breeches, sticking up in the air waiting for the hand he’d rather use for caressing instead of delivering punishment.
    He bounded to his feet. “I think this conversation is over.”
    “But we haven’t settled anything yet.” Large brown eyes pleaded.
    “Heed me well.” Hands fisted on his hips, he glared down at her. “You’re a child.” He was the one who needed to remember.
    Skirts shuffling, she climbed to her feet in exasperation. “I’m a woman.”
    “I’m a man. And you should not be alone with me.”
    A blonde brow rose in impishness. “Because you might kiss me again?”
    The scamp.
    She sashayed closer, her arms out toward him; a spitfire playing the seductress. Preposterous.
    Shouts drew his attention to the paddock. A gathering of men yelled in earnest. A horse snorted and bucked, trying to dislodge the rider on his back. Then, the man flew into the air. Another jumped the fence, distracting the steed while the rider tried to avoid getting stomped by the incensed beast.
    Small fingers wrapped around his arm. “Giles.”
    He glanced back to Alex. Her eyes fluttered while she leaned in for a kiss.
    “That does it.” He bent down, grabbed the urchin by her thighs and tossed her over his shoulder. With angry strides, he marched to the paddock as her fists pounded on his back.
    As he drew closer, Alex’s indignant yells drew the men’s attention. Three in particular. He paused and dropped the wriggling bundle on the ground. Right in front of her brothers.
    In the middle of a cloud of dust Alex fumed, and glared daggers.
    Giles scowled at her and then turned to three stunned faces.
    “Keep the brat away from me.”

Chapter 11
    Humiliating. Never had Alex been so embarrassed. Giles stormed off like a stallion bolting through an open gate. Kit arched a brow.