was already reacting to her, his cock straining against the fabric, begging for her body to envelop it like it used to. It’d been months since the last time he’d made love to Susanna, and he was hungry and eager for release. That moment of hesitation cost him dearly as Diana pulled the laces of her bodice, loosening it and baring her breasts to him as she arched her back, bringing them closer to his mouth.
“Sam,” she breathed, “how I missed you.”
Sam tore his eyes from her breasts as he grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand away from his throbbing cock. “You came here with my brother’s child, and now you’re trying to get me to fuck you? Once a whore always a whore,” he spat out and strode from the barn, angry and frustrated. He wished he could go home and slake his sexual frustration with Susanna, but she wasn’t receptive right now, and his sudden ardor would just alarm her and make her wonder what he’d been up to while he should have been mucking out the barn.
Sam strutted into the woods where he leaned against a stout tree and gazed up at the sky. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on Bible verses and boring chores, but all he could think of was the desire coursing through his veins and the sight of Diana with her bare breasts just begging to be kissed. Images of her as she had been in New York raced through his fevered brain as he slid his hand down his breeches and went to work. He was panting by the time he finally came, sliding down the length of the tree, his heart pounding wildly. He’d wanted her, he couldn’t deny it, and he felt like the lowest of scum for nearly betraying Susanna. If only Diana would leave. He couldn’t allow her to ensnare Jonah; she’d never be true to him, and Sam would never be at peace if she were that near.
July 1779
Savannah
Chapter 18
Finn pulled his hat lower to keep the blazing sun out of his eyes and walked down the street at a brisk pace. He’d never been this far south before, and he hoped never to be again. The heat was unbearable, and he felt a trickle of sweat snake down his back and into the waistband of his breeches as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand to keep the perspiration from running into his eyes. He wished he could take off his coat, but it seemed inappropriate, especially since all the passersby were properly attired and not showing any signs of being uncomfortable. Maybe they were just used to the climate, having lived here all their lives. He was gratified to see that the British soldiers were sweltering in their wool tunics, their pasty English faces red and glistening with sweat.
Finn looked around in dismay. He’d been hoping to find some sort of haberdashery shop where he could buy a gift for Abbie, but so far he’d seen nothing that fit the bill. Georgia was a relatively new colony compared to Virginia, and Savannah, although the capital, wasn’t nearly as cosmopolitan or prosperous as Williamsburg. Finn had learned during his short stay there that most of the colonist’s wealth came from either exporting deer hides, or growing rice in the marshes outside the city tended by Negro slaves who were brought to Savannah expressly for that purpose. He’d never tasted rice until two days ago, and the verdict was still out on whether he liked it or not. It had a strange texture, which sort of reminded him of barley. The taste was kind of odd, too. By itself, it was rather tasteless, but when mixed into the gravy from the meat, it was quite delicious. Maybe he should buy a small bag of rice and take home with him. Mrs. Mallory could cook it up with some venison stew. The rice, mixed with meat, carrots, onions, and wild garlic, would make a nice change from their usual fare and give them a taste of the south.
Finn felt his stomach growl as he thought of food. He hadn’t eaten since early this morning, and the heel of bread and cup of milk he was
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