28. Sienna #3
“Then why distract me?”
His hand moved at my waist, possessive. “Because you also need to learn how to think while I touch you.”
I stared at the cards in my hand. They could have been written in another language.
Jamison chuckled low against my hair.
“Terrible little gambler.”
I turned my head. He looked down at me, eyes dark with a promise he should not have made in my father’s salon.
I faced forward very quickly.
Jamison lit another cigar, but only after I sat back in his lap. By the third time I won, I understood why.
I had a full house, and when I looked at Jamison, he did not explain it first. He waited while I counted the cards under my breath and slowly pieced it together.
“Three sevens,” I whispered. “Two kings.”
His hand stilled at my waist.
I looked up, barely daring to smile. “Full house?”
His expression changed.
Pride, I realized.
“Yes.”
I beamed.
This time I did not apologize for it.
“Now make Julian pay for seeing the river.” Jamison kissed my temple and kept his mouth there a little longer than necessary.
Julian sighed. “I preferred her before the education.”
I won.
Sabine smiled at me, while Henri whispered something against her hair that made her laugh. My father studied the table, then Jamison, then me with an expression I could not read.
I gathered my chips badly, dropping two.
Jamison caught one before it rolled off the table.
“Still clumsy.”
“I won.”
“You did.”
“Say it nicely.”
The request escaped before I could stop it. I stiffened immediately, expecting the room to punish me for wanting too much. Jamison’s hand tightened around my waist. His mouth came to my ear, so close his lips brushed the shell of it.
“You played well, baby.”
My throat went tight. The room had narrowed to his voice and the warmth of his hand under the edge of my dress.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
His lips touched my temple again.
“You’re welcome.”
The final hands passed in a blur of small victories.
I still forgot whether a flush meant matching suits or matching numbers.
Kept queens away from ugly cards because some instincts could not be educated out in one evening.
But I folded two losing hands without mourning them aloud, called one bluff, and even managed to avoid smiling when an ace arrived.
By that time my father called an end to the night.
My cousins drifted toward the doorway with the kind of whispering that meant this would be discussed in six rooms before breakfast. Sabine rose carefully with Henri’s help, then came over to kiss my cheek.
“You looked happy tonight,” she said softly.
I looked down at Jamison’s tattooed hand still covering mine.
“I was,” I said.
Sabine’s smile warmed, and Henri gave Jamison a nod that looked much less afraid than it had that morning. Father lingered near the door, eyes moving briefly to Jamison’s arm around me. Whatever he saw there made his mouth tighten, though he only said, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Father,” I replied.
Jamison inclined his head. “Bellemere.”
My father left.
The salon emptied of witnesses except Reeves by the door and staff too discreet to count.I should have moved from Jamison’s lap. I knew that. The game was over.
His arm tightened.
Jamison lowered his mouth to my temple again, but this kiss was slower. I turned my cheek into him. His mouth brushed the corner of my eye, then my temple again.
“I still think twos deserve kindness,” I whispered.
Jamison’s quiet laugh moved against my back. “I’ll buy you a deck made entirely of twos.”
He kissed my temple one final time before his hand slid carefully from beneath my dress and settled back at my waist.
“Come on, baby,” he said. “Bed.”
I opened my eyes and just as he stood. He did not put me on my feet. Gasping I clutched his shoulders.
“Jamison.”
Reeves opened the salon doors without comment.
My face burned as Jamison carried me through the hall. Thankfully, most of the family had gone, though a few younger cousins peered from the far staircase and immediately ducked back, whispering furiously.
“You’re creating gossip,” I whispered.
“I’m correcting old gossip.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means no one in this house should remember you walking away alone when they could remember me carrying you.”
The answer silenced me.
He looked down.
For once, he didn’t make it into a joke.
Outside, the path to House Alder lit by small lanterns in the grass. Jamison carried me beneath them as if I weighed nothing.
Halfway down the path, I rested my cheek against his shoulder.
We made it back to the house and he didn’t place me on my feet until we made it upstairs.
He bent and kissed me. Slow at first. His hand under my jaw, the other holding me tightly against his chest.
“You’re tired,” he murmured, his hand moved, sliding around my hip, and he tapped my ass gently. “Bedtime, baby. You’ve had a long day.”
I gasped and looked up at him. His expression did not change, but his eyes warmed with amusement.
My whole face heated. “You cannot just tap me like that.”
“I just did.”
I tried to glare.
He lowered his mouth near my ear. “That was gentle.”
My heart was racing again. This man reminded me nothing of the man that I had stood beside for years. Every day that passed, I felt myself forgetting to be cautious. Because, that was who I was. I loved too hard, and often the wrong people.
He stepped back and reached for the tie at the side of my dress.
I caught his wrist.
“Is there another reason you’re here?” I asked.
He didn’t pull away from my hand. I heard the rain beginning again outside the windows, soft against the roof of House Alder.
“Sienna.”
“No.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted, so I tried again. “Please don’t say my name like that. I need to ask it.”
His jaw tightened.
I kept hold of his wrist because if I let go, I might lose the courage.
“You’re staying through breakfast and frogs and cards, and you keep saying you’re here for me, but…” My throat closed for a second. “You’ve never done this before.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
I pressed my lips together. “If there is another reason, tell me.”
“There are always reasons.”
My stomach sank. I sat down on the edge of the bed. Already preparing myself for the truth.
“No. Not like that.” He dragged a hand through his hair, then seemed to remember I still held the other wrist and lowered his hand again. “I mean in my life. But that isn’t why I’m in this room. I came to work on us.”
I let go of his wrist slowly.
“I missed you,” he looked almost angry to have said it aloud. “When you pulled away from me. I thought I wanted silence. I spent years telling myself you annoyed me.“
He stepped closer, slowly this time.
“I took all of it for granted because it was always there. You were always there. Reaching. Smiling. Trying to make me less of a bastard for rooms that didn’t deserve the effort.”
My eyes burned, and I fought the tears not to fall.
“I hated how much I wanted it,” he said. “So I acted like it irritated me.”
His hand lifted, then stopped before touching my face.
“It broke me. When you stood beside me and gave me exactly what I had trained you to give me. I thought if you were quiet, I’d feel free of the pressure. I didn’t. I felt the room empty around me every time you went still.”
A tear slipped before I could stop it.
“Oh, baby. Don’t cry because of me.”
A laugh broke in my throat. “That’s a little late.”
“I don’t deserve you. After everything I’ve done,” he added, “I don’t deserve you trusting me because I decided to finally use my brain.”
The tears burned harder. I wiped one quickly, embarrassed by it, but he caught my hand gently and lowered it.
He brushed the tear away with his thumb.
His eyes locked with mine, as he sank down in front of me, one knee on the rug between my feet, bringing his face lower than mine.
Jamison Crow knelt.
In front of me.
His hands rested on either side of my hips on the mattress.
“But I’m here for you. Only you.”