Chapter Twenty-seven

Already experiencing withdrawal symptoms, Sam couldn't have slept had a gun been put to his head, and knowing he had to keep busy if he were to last two days without Alex, he went to Eddie's house, dragged him out of bed, and insisted on his company.

They'd played eighteen holes under an overcast sky and, against Eddie's protests, began a second eighteen midafternoon, despite a light rain falling.

At the third hole, with the wind picking up, Eddie tossed his club at his caddy and hotly declared, "I'm done, Sam. If you have to keep your mind off the lovely widow by wearing yourself out on the golf course, I don't have to be part of your damned abuse. Not only did you wake me up at the crack of dawn-"

"It was eleven."

"As I was saying-the crack of dawn, not to mention you've dragged me up and down this damned course for hours without so much as a drink."

"I can't drink."

Eddie spun around, his gaze incredulous. "You're dying."

Sam handed his club to his caddy and waved the two lads away. "I'm not dying," he said calmly, "but I sort of promised Alex I wouldn't sleep with anyone for these two days, so I want to stay sober." He shrugged. "In the interests of caution."

Sam's explanation had done nothing to diminish Eddie's incredulity. Wide-eyed, he said, "You may not be dying, but you're obviously delirious. What do you mean, you promised her not to sleep with anyone?"

"Just that."

"You mean you're sleeping alone tonight?"

Sam nodded.

"And tomorrow night as well?"

"Yes."

Eddie softly whistled. "Damn, she must be good. How long has it been, Sammy, since you spent two nights alone?"

"Don't make it sound so unusual. I spend time at my country home and at my hunting lodge and I don't necessarily have female guests."

"But your pretty maidservants draw straws for you, if I recall. Or doesn't that count?"

The viscount had the grace to look disconcerted. "You've made your point. But I'll manage just fine for two days."

"Provided you don't drink and you wear yourself to exhaustion on the golf course."

"Something like that," Sam said with a grin.

"Well, I'm going to the clubhouse and get myself a brandy before I die of a chill." Eddie offered his friend a sardonic glance and began walking away. "Since you're in love, you may watch me drink."

Sam caught Eddie's arm and brought him to a standstill. "For the record," he said carefully, "I'm not in love."

"Good. Then you won't mind joining me at Hattie's tonight. She has a dozen new ladies in from Paris-your favorite type, as I recall."

"Maybe some other time."

"Bloody hell! I don't believe it!" Eddie made a cross with his forefingers as though warding off evil spirits. "I bloody hope whatever you have doesn't contaminate me."

"Alex is very nice. That's ail."

"Really. Nice. I hadn't heard you refer to sex as nice before. Tell me how it's nice. Tell me what the hell she has, Sammy. Come, come, aren't we old friends? Describe this fucking rarity"-he grinned-"or rare fuck, because I'm all ears."

"Not a chance."

"Are we going to hear wedding bells?" Eddie mocked.

"What do you think," Sam said brusquely.

"Thank God. It would shake my principles to the core."

"You don't have any principles."

"Well, it would scare the hell out of me."

As it turned out, the men didn't stay long at the clubhouse. Eddie wasn't able to change Sam's mind, and after a period of cajoling and grumbling, he gave up trying to coax Sam into having a drink, and they returned to London.

"I hope you come to your senses," Eddie said as he exited Sam's carriage. "Do you think you should see a doctor?"

"I'm not sick, but thank you for your concern."

"It's not concern so much as a matter of survival. I don't want to think this could happen to me." He shuddered.

"I'll keep my distance," Sam promised with a faint smile. "Give my regards to the girls at Hattie's."

"I'll tell them you're in love."

"Tell them whatever you want."

And that casual reply more than anything alarmed Eddie.

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