by Cara Elliott
The rules, of course, left no doubt as to what her choice should be. But rules did not understand regret. Rules did not lock out uncertainties. Rules did not keep longing at bay.
A split second. Cameron had warned that in the heat of danger, one could not hesitate in making a decision.
No. No, no, no. This time, she was older and wiser. In her heart she now knew that any life worth living entailed risks.
And suddenly the sliver of space separating their lips was gone.
“Sophie,” he rasped against her mouth. “Think—”
“Oh, please, Cam. Let us let go of the past and the future and seize the present moment.”
“If you are sure.”
“Yes.” She had never been more sure of anything in her life. “Yes.”
“Then God help me, I shall be selfish enough to accept your decision without argument.” Framing her face between his hands, he possessed her in a hard, hungry embrace. “Though a true gentleman ought to be more honorable.”
“I don’t want you to be honorable.” Her hands skimmed over the taut chiseling of ribs, drawing a muffled groan. “I want you to be to mine.” If only for a fleeting interlude.
His restraint, held hard in check, suddenly snapped. A deft few tugs of the clever little hook and the knotted bow of her corset strings came undone. Sophie felt his hands unloop the laces and strip away the fabric. Rising, she twined her arms around his neck as he shoved the table aside and pulled her close. The thud of its fall was echoed by her half boots. Freed by two wiggled kicks, they landed atop her crumpled skirts.
Cameron spun around, their mouths still joined in a deep embrace, and in two swift strides carried her to the makeshift bed. He had left a thin bedroll of blankets spread over the wooden frame.
“You deserve silk and champagne, candlelight and crystal,” he whispered, breaking off the kiss to feather his lips along the arch of her neck. “Not a primitive hovel.”
In answer, Sophie found the flap of his breeches and worked the fastenings free. “I care naught for fancy frills, Cam. I am no highborn London lady, no glittering Diamond of the First Water. A simple setting is perfect, for I am…simply me.”
“And your pure, sparkling light, Sunbeam, puts all the London belles to the blush.”
I should be suffused with shame, thought Sophie, peeling the buckskins down from his thighs. Held in check by only the thin scrim of his cotton drawers, his arousal was rampantly apparent.
But I am not.
She undid the ties and boldly pressed her hand to its ridged length, reveling in the sensation of liquid heat pulsing against her palm.
Cameron inhaled a ragged breath and held himself very still as she explored its contours. Steel sheathed in velvet. Alluring, mysterious, a conundrum of contrasts—like Cameron himself.
“The Devil take me,” he finally gasped, catching her wrist and easing her down onto the bed.
That she could stir such a swirl of molten color in his eyes sent a trill of excitement thrumming through her body. Gold-flecked fire, smoke-tinged jade—a sensuous sea. Dark, alluring. Daring her to dive into its depths.
He kicked away his fallen breeches and wrenched off his remaining boot. His drawers followed, slithering to the ground with a sinuous whisper. And then he was gloriously naked, all taut muscle and primal male, limned in the honeyed morning light.
“Think one last time about whether you want to do this,” he murmured, dropping to his knees and tugging off her garters and stockings. “For in another instant, Lust will be deaf to Reason.”
“I don’t want to think,” said Sophie, remembering his words from their rainy night London tryst. “I just want to feel.” Her fingers twined in his long, silky hair.
I want the texture of your skin, the chiseling of your muscles, the shape of your manhood forever imprinted on my body.
“Touch me, Cam. Let us hold onto this moment, come what may.” Her mind was made up—she intended to hold on to it now and forever. Love was too precious to let slip through her fingers again. Win or lose against Dudley and Morton, she would be free to follow her own heart. Either Georgie and Anthony would provide a stable, secure home for the family…or they would all be ruined, so it would hardly matter if she chose to partner with a pirate.
That realization was incredibly liberating.
“Sophie.” Cameron’s sigh was soft as satin as he slid his hands up her legs and gently parted her thighs. “It was only by keeping a grip on the sweet memory of you that I managed to survive the bleak, black twists my life has taken since leaving Terrington.”
She arched up to meet him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Shadows danced over his skin, the scent of him now an earthier musk that left her a little dizzy. The stubbling of whiskers on his jaw was rough against her cheek, his mouth was now hard and demanding.
Cameron claimed that he did not want to share his solitary life with anyone, but she meant to challenge him on that. Surely love was stronger than cynicism.
Surrendering to his need—and her own—Sophie eagerly opened herself to his embrace. Their tongues twined, the slow, sensuous play of flesh teasing a sudden surge of heat at her very core.
Oh, this is wicked…and wonderful.
A purr of pleasure slipped from her lips as Cameron settled his body atop hers, melting, molding flesh to flesh. His cock nudged between her thighs, grazing the honey-slick flesh nestled within their “V.”
“I shall try to go slow, Sunbeam.” His voice was low and rumbled. “There may be a pinch of pain, but I promise you it will quickly pass.”
An exquisite ache was already building inside her. Sophie lifted her hips in wordless urging.
He responded with a ragged groan. His fingers—those oh-so-skilled fingers—delved into her feminine folds and found her hidden pearl.
A moan caught her throat as he stroked and stroked the sensitive spot. Fire swirled beneath his touch, the heat growing unbearable.
“Hush, sweetheart.” Cameron muffled her cries with a kiss.
“I want…I want…”
“I know what you what.” The head of his cock was now pressing against the opening of her passage. “And God knows, I want it, too.” He eased forward a fraction. “Desperately,” he added through clenched teeth. Sweat sheened his forehead, the tiny beads of moisture dampening his tangled hair.
So good, so good.
A fierce need, too new to have a name, was cresting inside her. Hands clutching the broad slope of his shoulders, Sophie could bear it no longer. With an upward thrust of her hips, she drove him deep inside her. The momentary stab gave way to a surge of far sweeter sensations. She felt herself clench around him, and for an instant it was as if two had become one. He was part of her—and always had been.
She could, at that instant, have wept for joy.
Sucking in a breath, Cameron slowly rocked back.
“No—” she cried, only to be filled again with his sleek heat.
Another thrust, another withdrawal. Urged on by some elemental intuition, Sophie matched his rhythm, slowly at first, but the friction sent a thrumming through her limbs. Her breathing quickened, as did his.
Cameron’s thrusts were now coming harder, faster.
With a moan, she rose to meet him, again and again and again.
Higher, higher. The sun in all its blazing white-hot glory seemed to be floating just overhead. And then in a blazing, brilliant burst of light, it seemed to shatter into a shower of golden sparks.
By sheer force of will, Cameron held himself together as Sophie came undone in his arms.
Oh-so many dark, devilish nights, his dreams had taunted him with this moment. He hardly dared to believe that the sound of her voice, the scent of her skin, the heat of her passion was real.
Sophie. She was now his, body and soul.
With the cries of her climax still swirling in the air, he gave one last shuddering thrust, his own hoarse growl of exultation breaking free, and then withdrew, just in time to spill
his seed safely.
“Sunbeam.” Her face was wreathed in a beatific glow. And for an instant, his own inner darkness was banished by its sweet, sweet light.
Utterly spent, he collapsed beside her and gently gathered her in his arms. Of all the dangerous, demented risks he had taken in his life, this was perhaps the most foolhardy.
A man like me must be heartless. And yet the rapidfire thud in his chest warned that his vital organ had come back to life…
Passion. Peril. Somehow he would keep Sophie safe. As for himself…
She stirred, and murmured a sound against his shoulder.
“Sunbeam,” repeated Cameron, stroking a hand over her tumbled curls. “Forgive me for behaving like a randy schoolboy. Lovemaking is more than a frenzied coupling,” he murmured. “It should be done slowly, savoring the sensations like a fine wine.”
“Mmmm, no wonder ladies are warned to keep their lips far, far away from the glass of passion,” she replied in a muzzy murmur. “This first sip was intoxicating.” A feline stretch twined her legs with his. “A fizzy bubbling through the blood, potent as sin.”
Cameron felt himself start to harden at the touch of her flesh. Quelling the fresh rush of lust, he shifted and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. I have sinned enough for one morning.
“Whatever the strictures say, you’ve done nothing evil, Sophie. That said, we must be careful…”
A soft snuffle, and Cameron realized that she had drifted into a doze.
“I’ll not have your reputation shredded,” he went on, making the vow to himself. “For all my past failings, I will guard you from danger.”
Sophie woke, and for a moment lay hovering in a cloud-like haze, wondering whether the enchantment that had wrapped around her body was some otherworldly spell.
Black magic. Wielded by a dark-haired pirate…
Cameron shifted, his long lean body brushing against hers.
No, not magic. Something infinitely more powerful.
Love. Through half-opened eyes, she watched winks of sunlight steal through the weathered thatching. Birdsong—a linnet?—rose above the murmur of the long grasses swaying in the breeze. Love. She had loved Cameron for as long as she could remember.
A smile played on her lips. I suppose I am now a strumpet, a shameless wagtail, for surrendering my virtue. There were strict rules about that—unyielding, unbending rules—and she had broken them all to flinders.
“To the Devil with rules,” she whispered. Right and wrong. They were not simply black-and-white concepts but possessed a far more subtle range of shades. In her heart she knew she would have no regrets, whatever the future might bring.
Closing her eyes, Sophie let her thoughts drift. Cameron’s beautiful face, his jade-green eyes, his gold hoop earring…strangely blurring with images of locks and keys and needle-thin shafts of glittering steel.
Locks. A hazy picture flitted up from out of nowhere and floated around the edges of her consciousness. A cabinet with an ornate wrought iron keyhole? Something about it seemed oddly familiar, but try as she might, she couldn’t bring it into focus…
Cameron stirred again and lifted a lid. “You’ve a pensive look on your face. What are you thinking about?”
“You,” she replied truthfully.
“Good.” A lazy smile stretched his sensuous mouth.
Vague thoughts of a musty old cabinet gave way to a more enticing subject. On impulse, she leaned over and flicked her tongue along its sinuous curl. “You taste better than champagne.”
“And you—you are learning far too many dangerous skills this morning.” Cameron rolled over onto his back. “I can think of a number of delicious ways to keep your mind filled with naught but thoughts of me. But however much I would love to lie here and spend the day and night teaching you more about pleasure, it’s too dangerous for us to linger here any longer.”
Sitting up, he angled a glance through the window. “Secluded as this spot is, there is a chance that a shepherd or hunter might pass this way.”
His words reminded her that the interlude, however idyllic, could not last forever.
“Yes, of course.” Suddenly a little shy about her nakedness, Sophie scooted to the edge of the bed and grabbed up his shirt from the floor. Clutching it to her breasts, she went on, “I’ve an excuse for the hours of my absence, but I dare not stretch it too far.”
With lordly grace, Cameron rose and flexed his muscles, clearly comfortable in his own skin.
She couldn’t help but stare at the dark hair dancing along the sloping ridge of his shoulders. Half wild, half civilized—wholly male. How else to describe the aura of raw vitality radiating from every pore? Her gaze slid down through the coarse curls peppering his sculpted chest to the lean, tapered waist…and then lower still.
Her scrutiny stirred a lift of his brow. “Shocked?”
No, intrigued.
She matched his teasing smile. “Hardly. If you recall, I saw you bare-arsed when you were twelve.”
He gave a mock grimace. “How very lowering. Has the view not changed?”
“Hmmm. Hard to tell. My memory has grown a little fuzzy.”
“Minx.”
As he began to gather up their clothing, Sophie suddenly caught sight of a scar on his left thigh. Eyes widening, she asked, “Is that a…”
“Bullet wound?” he finished for her. “Yes.”
“So your nocturnal forays are, in fact, not quite so safe as you led me to believe.”
“As it so happens, it was acquired in a more noble pursuit than my usual endeavors. Connor’s new bride had been abducted, and I was helping him rescue her.”
“Abducted!”
“It is a long story,” replied Cameron. “Suffice it to say that Lady K possesses the same stalwart courage as you do. When an unknown enemy tried to kill Connor, she insisted on doing some sleuthing…” A pause. “Actually, never mind about the details.” Placing her garments down beside her, he quickly changed the subject. “Come, we ought not tarry any longer. I’ll step outside so that you may have a bit of privacy.”
As his shadow slipped away, Sophie began to dress, a little surprised that the familiar items still fit. Her body felt completely altered.
“I am a different person,” she mused, tightening the laces of her corset. “But at least I haven’t sprouted horns or cloven hoofs.” She studied her hands, which still tingled with the memory of Cameron’s body. There might be no outward signs of her surrender to sin, but the feel of him would be forever imprinted on her palms.
A few quick twists of her hairpins secured the worst of the errant curls. Thank God that the wind and prickly gorse would serve as a plausible excuse for her disheveled appearance.
As for her kiss-swollen lips…
She tied her bonnet strings and ducked through the narrow doorway. One challenge at a time. Her own tumble down the Path to Perdition was of less concern at the moment than Cameron’s scrapes with deadly peril. Her troubles had drawn Cameron back into conflict with the Marquess of Wolcott—and back into mortal danger.
So regardless of how dexterous his cunning hands were, she was not going to let him pick her up and shift her to some out-of-the-way shelf, far from the action, while he took all the risks.
Chapter Thirteen
Thank you,” said Cameron, as she crossed the clearing and handed over his shirt. “My sartorial eccentricities are well known in London, but I have yet to ride down Piccadilly Street bare-chested.”
The thought of all the sophisticated Town beauties ogling his body momentarily diverted her attention. Her stomach clenched, but she made herself laugh. “No doubt the ladies wouldn’t mind.”
Turning away with a wordless shrug, he tucked the shirttails into his breeches and pulled on his coat.
All at once, the magic of just moments ago gave way to embarrassment. Awkward and unsure of how to go on, she looked down at her rumpled skirts, suddenly feeling like a naïve country chit. Was there a protocol for taking lea
ve of an illicit lover?
“Sophie?”
She looked up to find that he had moved close—close enough for her to see that his eyes had clouded.
“I regret—”
“Oh, please, Cam,” she interrupted. “If you start to apologize, I swear I shall stick your steel lock probe right through your liver.”
“My liver?” He waggled a brow. “How kind of you to spare a more vital organ.”
“Don’t press your luck,” muttered Sophie.
Despite the quip of humor, his expression remained guarded. “What I was going to say was that I regret having to take my leave so quickly. A real gentleman would not…ah, well, never mind. A real gentleman would not be in this position.” He touched a fingertip to her face and slowly traced the line of her jaw. “I’ve taken shameless advantage of your trust—and I’m enough of a cad that I won’t say that I’m sorry about it. Be that as it may, there are pressing reasons for me to return to London. The information I saw in Wolcott’s study may give me a weapon to wield against Dudley and Morton. But it’s imperative that I move quickly, for as we both know, the clock is ticking and until I make some inquiries, I won’t know for sure.”
“You need not worry that I expect you to be tied to my skirts on account of what happened. Nothing has changed between us.” Sophie gave a rueful smile. “Save for the fact that I’m no longer a virgin.”
A shiver of silence stirred the air. And then…
“Virginity is vastly overrated,” replied Cameron lightly. “I am glad to hear that you hold no girlish illusions over our interlude.”
A little nettled by his casual tone, Sophie quickly replied, “At my advanced age, girlish illusions have long since been buried in the attic, along with my old jam-streaked pinafores.”
“It was meant as a jest, Sunbeam,” he murmured. “I…” There was a hitch of hesitation. “I did warn you that I don’t take anything seriously, a fact that annoys even my closest friends.” With a careless flourish, he pulled on a pair of York tan gloves. “So once again, don’t take it amiss, but I really must be off. As I said, there may be a key clue in Town, and if I am to help you, I need to uncover it without delay.”