Chapter 8 #2
Sam pulled up on the reins and slowed the horses as they came up to the corner of Spring Gardens and Cockspur Street.
He jumped down from the curricle and came around to help Mrs. Brown.
As she put her foot on the step and reached out for his shoulders, her half boot slipped.
He caught her waist with both hands, lifting her and safely bringing her to the ground.
Their bodies touched as he lowered her to her feet, and heat rushed from his chest through his core.
Stifling a moan, he asked, “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head but looked flushed. “N-no. Only my pride. I’m afraid I’ve never had an abundance of grace.”
“I’m happy to catch you in my arms any time.” Her smile made his pulse race. He held out his arm, and she took it as they entered Farrance’s.
“Oh my, it smells divine in here,” she gasped, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath. “Thank you for suggesting this.”
They sat at a small table. A man came up and took their order of tea and a plate of various comfits and pastries.
“This tea is superb,” she exclaimed. “And these cakes… I’m trying to determine what is in them. I must try to replicate them.” Her face was flushed from the steaming tea, her eyes sparkling as she tried another candied fruit. “Are you not enjoying the sweets?”
“Indeed, I am,” said Sam, placing his chin on his fist and smiling at her.
“Flummery, Dr. Brooks, but I enjoy it all the same,” she said around a mouthful, then giggled.
“Please, call me Sampson… or Sam.” He poured them more tea. “Unless you don’t wish to continue our friendship, which would devastate me.”
“Well, Sampson, we can’t have that.” She paused, her gaze holding his, and something changed between them at that moment.
It happened in a breath, but he knew she was finally giving in. Would give him a chance. His heart soared.
“Then you must call me Dorothea… or Dottie,” she said at length. The tip of her tongue peeked out to swipe up a crumb at the corner of her mouth. His breath caught.
When they finished their tea and sweets, she wrapped up the last remaining candied fruit and tucked it in her reticule, murmuring, “For Violet.” Then they made their way to St. James’s Park.
It wasn’t busy, being Wednesday, which Sam preferred.
They strolled, her arm in his, and he thought they looked the perfect couple.
Others passed them, smiled, and nodded as the pair spoke of books and music.
They walked along the canal, and he told her of the pelicans residing there since Charles II.
They talked of their favorite colors and smells and animals.
The sun was setting when they made their way back to the curricle, and he hated for their time together to end.
Sam was happy with the day, felt he’d made progress with… Dottie. He liked the feel of her name on his tongue. That thought sent him in another direction, soft lips and…
He maneuvered her behind a cluster of trees, placing his hands on her arms. There were few people about, and they were in shadow.
“Forgive me if this offends you, but I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks.
May I?” He waited, thinking he’d gone too far, when her blue eyes darkened. With desire? Did she feel the same?
“Yes, but—”
He couldn’t wait and stepped closer, breathing in her sweet scent. Orange and cloves. She moved back, leaning against a tree trunk. Her eyes raked across his face, down his chest, and then she locked her gaze with his. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing coming in rapid bursts.
“Do I frighten you?” he whispered.
She shook her head, and his patience fled.
Bending his head, he brushed her lips with his.
A jolt shot through his body, desire flaring hotter than he’d ever known.
He flattened against her, trailing kisses across her jaw, down her neck.
He heard the gasp and smiled before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.
Her hands came around his collar, fingers scraping his scalp, signaling she was as hungry as he was.
Sam’s blood pounded in his ears as his tongue traced the seam of her mouth.
She opened for him, and he entered that heavenly space, tongues clashing, dueling, leaving them both breathless.
When he ended the kiss, he kept his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.
“I knew it would be like this.” It had been better than his dreams. A blessing or a curse?
“I apologize for my… for…” His desire? His passion? But he wasn’t sorry.
She shook her head. “Don’t. We’ll spoil it.”
He nodded, and with a deep breath, he stepped away, tucking her arm in his once again as they made their way back to the path. Sam had a ridiculous smile on his face. He could feel it, and he didn’t care. That kiss. That kiss had been—
“So, do you have plans for the future, Dr—Sampson?” she asked breathily.
He reluctantly came back to earth and scrambled to gather his thoughts.
“I have an office for my practice, but as I gain experience, I’d like to mentor young doctors at one of the hospitals.
Perhaps my own hospital. There are so many in need of care and so few good physicians.
The medical field is changing, growing, and I want to be a part of it.
” Did he sound pompous or passionate? He hoped the latter. “And you?”
“America. I’m saving my money and starting a new life in America.”
Sam’s stomach plummeted to his knees.