Emma Darcy - The Playboy King's Wife

To Sam’s intense relief, his expression changed, the anger swallowed up as his eyes gathered a commanding intensity. He lifted a hand and laid its palm gently on her cheek. “Please…don’t let her spoil this.”

Sam could not tear her eyes away from his though the passionate wanting they were communicating made her head swim. She snatched at her belief that Tommy was fundamentally decent, which surely meant he wasn’t playing some deceitful game with her. He was speaking the truth. She just didn’t know what this was to him.

“Give me credit, Samantha,” he demanded, a harsh note creeping into his voice. “I will not be robbed of respect today.”

Respect…the word sliced through the whirling doubts with all the force of Elizabeth’s earlier reading of the problem she had created with Tommy, her failure to comprehend his need for respect or even what it meant to him.

Panicked at the thought of doing more wrong, she instinctively lifted her hand and covered his in a gesture of appeasement, as well as desperately seeking a sense of togetherness with him. “I believe you,” she blurted out, taking the leap of faith he asked of her.

The tension eased from his face. He smiled—a brilliant, dazzling smile—and Sam felt bathed in an exhilarating radiance. Her heart lightened. Her taut nerves relaxed into a melting sense of pleasure. Her mind was filled with the sunrise of a day she had yearned for. This was it…she and Tommy…with a clean slate between them.

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