Instead, she had climbed onto Abram's massive bed and leaned against the headboard while the men had sprawled around her, and she'd listened to their tales of a strong man who had lived every one of his eighty-five years to the fullest. Sometime around two in the morning, she'd fallen asleep. A short while later, she'd half awakened to see somebody stumble out of the bed with a curse and go over and stop the pendulum on the clock on the opposite wall. She'd slept more peacefully then. She'd actually snuggled into the closest man with a sigh, feeling warm and protected and utterly content. Now, though, nature was calling. She was also mad that she had so easily been talked out of leaving last night. She wasn't any closer to a solution to her problems, either. If anything, she had one more.
She was falling in love with the Sinclairs, every damn last one of them. Finally finding the courage to open her eyes, Willa lifted her head to see Jesse on the far side of the bed, his mouth open and one arm thrown over his eyes. Ben was snoring beside him. Which meant it was Sam's chest she was snuggled against.
Figures. He volunteered to be the one to marry me.That's what they'd told her last night. For the good of Tidewater, Sam Sinclair would sacrifice himself to a dead man. He was even up to the task of getting her pregnant, too.
How noble of him.
Well, he could damn well walk down the aisle by himself. She was going to find a bathroom, then the kitchen, and then she was stealing a car and driving toMaine . She wasn't flying on one of those commuter planes again.
Praying he wouldn't wake up, Willa carefully tried to move Sam's hand. It immediately tightened, then started kneading her softly. Despite herself, she moaned.
Dear Lord, she had to get out of there!
She tossed his hand away, scrambling off the bed before any of the men could get their bearings. Sam shouted when she pushed off his chest. He bumped into Ben, pushing Jesse off the bed with a yelp of alarm. Ben sat bolt upright, his eyes wild, his hair standing on end, his fists raised for battle. Then all three of them grabbed their heads and started cursing. Willa couldn't help but smile. Hangovers were such just rewards-and really handy when a woman wanted everyone to overlook the fact that she'd just spent the night with them.
"What in hell is all the hollering?" Sam hissed with obvious restraint, slits of blue fire escaping his bloodshot eyes.
Bolstered by the fact that she couldn't possibly look any worse than he did, Willa gave him a smug smile. "Go back to sleep. It's still early," she said, determined to brazen her way out of this. At the very least, she hoped to buy herself time.
Sam dropped his head into his hands with a groan. Ben flopped back onto the pillow, whimpering in agony. Jesse remained sitting on the floor and simply laid his head on his knees, quietly cursing. Willa escaped.
Realizing she was limping because she was wearing only one shoe, she slipped it off when she reached the hallway, then tried to decide which direction to go. She was in the family wing, which meant her room was at the opposite end of the house. She headed down the hall at a run, determined to be long gone before anyone realized she was missing. She smiled again, thinking about the shoe she must have lost in Abram's bed, and she wondered if Sam would show up on her doorstep inMaine , seeking the princess it would fit.
Willa suddenly scowled. As fantasies went, Abram Sinclair was the fairy godmother from hell-and Sam was not her Prince Charming!
Standing under a hot shower until the water ran cold went a long way toward making Sam feel human again. He had even greater hope that the coffee he smelled would go just as far toward restoring his memory. He was more than a little ashamed of getting so drunk last night and even more worried about what he might have said.
"Please, God, don't let me have proposed to Willa," he whispered. "And if I did, let her be so hung over that she doesn't remember."
Sam stopped at the kitchen door and slowly cracked it open. Ben and Jesse were seated at the staff table, their hands curled around mugs of steaming coffee, staring at nothing. Peg was just setting a large platter of dry toast on the table, and Emerson was perched on a stool at his desk, scribbling in his journal.
Emerson took more notes than a field scientist, and Sam suspected the man saw his employers more as a social experiment than a job. Either that, or he was planning to write an exposé when he retired.
"It's safe to come in," Ben said, his voice sounding as haggard as he looked. "Willa hasn't come down yet."
Sam entered the restaurant-style kitchen and took a seat at the table. They'd given everyone the next few days off, but Peg, Emerson, and Ronald lived at Rosebriar. Peg immediately set down a mug of coffee in front of Sam-black, steaming, and smelling less strongly of maple syrup than he usually liked. "Thank you," he said, wrapping his hands around it and blowing on the surface. He eyed the platter of toast. "Do you have any maple spread?" he asked as Peg walked to the stainless-steel island that ran the length of the kitchen.
"You slather that toast with anything sweet, and you'll throw up." Peg picked up a piece of paper and glanced at it briefly, then reached under the island, grabbed a couple of jars of spices, and placed them in a box on the counter. "That's why I only put a drop of syrup in your coffee. It's going to take a whole loaf of dry toast to sop up all that brandy you boys drank last night." She headed into the pantry, returned with an armful of canisters, and set them in the box with the spices.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked, picking up some toast when his stomach growled.
"I'm packing what supplies I want to take with me."
Jesse and Ben came out of their stupors and frowned at her. "Um, Peg," Ben said. "You're supposed to stay working for the next three months before you go to your cottage."
She turned to look at the table of men. "I will be working, just not here. I only have four, maybe five days to get myself up toMaine and get familiar with my new digs."
"Maine?" Jesse said. "What are you talking about?"
"Miss Kent became my boss when she inherited Rosebriar," Peg said, placing some packets in the box,
then picking up the box and setting it by the door that led to the garage. She walked back to the island with an empty box in her hand and looked at her list again.
"You're going toMaine with Willa?" Sam asked, confused as well as surprised.
"Then who's going to take care of us?" Jesse asked before Peg could answer. She smiled. "Poor babies," she said with mock sympathy. "The kitchen staff is capable of feeding you, and I'm not taking any of the house staff with me, so you don't have to worry about dust bunnies attacking in your sleep. Emerson will watch over everything here. Willa said her house is too small for more than just me to take care of, so I'm going toMaine alone."
"You've spoken to Willa about this already? When?" Sam asked.
"This morning. She got all flustered when I said I intended to go keep house for her and tried to talk me out of it. But when I started listing some of the dishes I can cook and told her that I've always wanted to see theMaine coast, she finally relented." Peg's face reddened slightly. "I might have bullied her a bit, but that poor thing needs looking after right now. She's had quite a shock. She was in such a hurry to leave before you boys came down, she finally just scribbled her address on a paper, told me to be in Maine in five days, then left."
"She's gone!" Sam yelped, standing up.
"When did she leave?" Ben asked.
"How did she leave?" Sam asked right behind him.
"Ronald took her," Emerson interjected, swiveling his stool to face them. "They left in the Stutz Bearcat. Ronald told Willa she had only three months to enjoy it."
Jesse strode over to the desk and picked up the phone. "I'm calling him to bring her back here this minute."
"When did they leave?" Ben asked.