“Mine,” he whispered before he opened the door and stood back to let her exit the hotel room.
Camryn forced her feet to move, sweeping past him like an imperious duchess. She was not his, would never be his no matter what he said. Soon she’d return to New Zealand and life would revert to normal. She’d return to her job and live a quiet life, avoiding alcohol and yellow pills, content in the knowledge she’d known love with Gabriel. Another man wasn’t necessary. As long as she kept busy, she wouldn’t fall back into the abyss of despair she’d inhabited before her kidnapping. Her time spent with the aliens had taught her that at least.
They caught up with Mogens and Camryn walked beside the seer, her agitation lessening with movement. Ry had no right to treat her like a possession. A frown formed. No touching, since that’s where she seemed to go wrong, since she lost every vestige of willpower with skin contact.
When they reached the foyer of the hotel, they found it full of men and women waiting to enter the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, sending shards of fragmented light from the candles across the room and its occupants.
The gowns of the women attracted Camryn’s attention. Many were daring and some edged close to scandalous. The women reminded her of colorful butterflies while the men dressed similarly to Ry in black or white or a combination of the two.
“Where do these women hide during the day?” Jannike asked.
Camryn wondered the same thing. They seldom saw women out on the streets unless they were convicts. What did they do with themselves?
The line of people waiting to enter the ballroom moved at a steady pace, and soon Ry handed his invitation to the majordomo.
“Mr. Ryman Coppersmith and companions,” the man intoned.
Ry strode into the ballroom as if he owned it, ignoring stares and whispered conversations taking place behind gloved hands. Taking her cue from Ry, Camryn sashayed inside with head held high. Kaya and Jannike followed their example. A footman handed the three women a dance card each.
The ballroom stole her breath and heightened the perception of walking into a Jane Austen novel. Although she’d been a tomboy in her youth, she’d still read the classics and the odd romance while recuperating from a fall from her pony. A sad crush, they’d have termed this ball. Although early, dancers crammed onto the dance floor dipping and whirling to the music of a string band.
Five huge chandeliers, filled with glowing candles, lit the room. Plants and strategically potted palms offered both decoration and privacy. The ballroom opened out onto a balcony for those who wanted to take the air. The combination of perfumes, tallow candles and unwashed bodies made her nose twitch and her eyes water.
“I see a free table over by the balcony,” Ry said, nodding at a plump matron who gaped at him in consternation.
Camryn noticed other men and women with the same reaction. She nudged Kaya and they shared a grin.
The string band launched into a new set of dances and the couples on the floor commenced the series of intricate moves Mogens had taught them.
“I say, I know this is forward of me since we haven’t been introduced, but may I sign your dance card?”
Camryn turned to face the man with the suave voice, and mindful of Ry’s instructions to mingle, she beamed at him. “My name is Camryn O’Sullivan.” She offered the man her gloved hand. He raised it to his lips and brushed his mouth across her knuckles. “I would be honored to dance with you.” Camryn handed over her dance card and realized things were less formal here than they would’ve been on Earth during the early nineteenth century.
Encouraged by her friendliness, other men arrived and took possession of her dance card, scrawling their names against dances. Finally, Camryn slipped the dance card over her wrist and waited for the commencement of the next dance. Feeling a gaze, she shifted a fraction, angling her body. Ry stared at her, his expression one of irritation before he gave a clipped nod and strode from sight. A sense of rejection filled her despite her earlier resolution. Her stomach hollowed. Silly really. This ball was business. She had no right to feel anything toward Ry.
Ry had known Camryn would attract attention. It worried him, but he’d had to let her attend. Whenever she was out of his sight, he felt physically ill. The symptoms, mild at first, had grown more acute. Ry needed to speak to Mogens but had put it off because he knew the seer would issue dire predictions along with disapproval. He knew he should stay away from Camryn O’Sullivan. Try telling his feline, the reason he kept failing. Mogens had warned him earlier yet compulsion made him keep her close. The impulse had increased until now he craved her presence, her touch and taste. He watched her chatting to several males and had to quash his surge of jealousy.
Aware he needed to mingle, he approached two women and signed their dance cards.
“Mr. Talor Coppersmith, House of the Cat,” the major domo droned.
His brother. Of course they’d bump into each other straightaway.
“Ryman, how are you?” A private smile twisted Talor’s lips, as if he knew how much Ry wanted to wring his neck.
“I’m very well.” But he’d be better once he exacted revenge and discovered why Talor hated him so much. He felt subtle probing of his mind. Damn, Mogens had been right about his brother. Shoving the intrusion away, he held his brother’s gaze. The debonair demeanor didn’t fool him. Smugness accompanied the charm, putting Ry on notice. His brother had a plan, just as he had one. “How are Edrea and Cody?”
“Our sisters are well. Where is Camryn, Ryman? I must claim a dance.” Talor picked up his bejeweled quizzing glass and surveyed the ballroom then zoomed in on the dance floor.
Ry bit out a curse. He’d known Talor had taken a liking to her and hated the idea. The min he’d involved Camryn and his crew, their lives were at risk. One of the Coppersmith brothers would die, and even if his gut hadn’t told him this, Mogens had yesterday after reading the clouds.
“Ah, there she is, dancing with one of my friends.” Talor beckoned, his manner imperious, and Ry saw the man dancing with Camryn stop to whisper in her ear. She glanced over at them with a frown. Ry knew she had little option, saw the fierce grasp the man had on her arm. He’d better not leave bruises.
“How convenient. They’re coming over.” Talor sounded smug and sure of himself.
“Talor, I believe you’ve met Camryn O’Sullivan already,” the man said after bowing from the waist.
“Enchanted, my dear.” Talor took Camryn’s hand and lifted it to kiss the back. Instead of kissing her gloved hand, he pressed a kiss to the bare skin of her wrist above the line of pale lilac fabric.
Ry forced himself not to react.
“Talor,” Camryn said in a hoity-toity voice.
“A woman as pretty as you must be used to men making fools of themselves in her presence,” Talor said smoothly.
“I don’t go out much. I’m a widow,” Camryn said. “I loved my husband very much and I’m not intending to replace him.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Talor said, patting her hand with familiarity again. “I understand since I lost my mother not long ago. Her passing still hurts.”
Ry snorted. “A pity you didn’t see fit to inform me.”
“I didn’t think the news would interest an outlaw.”
A stunned silence fell. It pained Ry to know the woman he’d known as mother had died and he hadn’t said goodbye. Grief bloomed at the knowledge she’d died thinking him a thief and a liar. Katia Coppersmith had possessed a heart of solid gold and he had loved her.
“The death of a loved one always brings great pain,” Camryn murmured.
Anguish twisted inside Ry. Camryn still loved her husband or so she said. It had been the other man’s name she’d whispered last night, not his.
How did one fight a dead man?
The music trailed off and the dancers dispersed from the floor.
“I believe the next dance is mine,” Talor said, smiling at Camryn.
Camryn’s
brows arched in a delicate manner. “Really?” She glanced down at her dance card before turning her attention back on him. “Are you HOC?”
“I am indeed, my dear. I’m head of the House of the Cat.” He offered his arm with a smug grin and after a brief hesitation, Camryn placed her gloved fingers on the crook. “I believe the music will start shortly.”
Ry wanted to grab Camryn from his brother. He caught a quick flash of her thoughts, her irritation at Talor’s presumptuous behavior, and attempted to quell his jealousy. The amusement flitting across his brother’s face told him he’d failed. Ry watched her to measure possible distress and saw a woman in complete control. Mogens had told him to trust Camryn and it seemed he was right.
With stealth, he attempted to read his brother’s thoughts. He caught the flash of anger before the emotions shut down abruptly. A mind block. Ry’s hands clenched and his smile never wavered.
“Ah, here’s Meghan,” Talor said, his expression sly. “You’re old friends. Why don’t you say hello while we’re dancing?”
Ry froze for a sec, staring at the beautiful redhead. Her betrayal with his brother had changed his life.
“Hello, Ryman.” Her throaty voice remained the same, and it was like stepping back in time.
“Meghan.” Ry sensed Camryn’s interest. When he gave in to temptation and scanned the dance floor, he witnessed her anxiety, the way her teeth raked her bottom lip.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me, Ryman? For old time’s sake.” Meghan pressed her full breasts against his chest. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with humor and a tinge of lust.
Ry didn’t feel a thing and pushed her away without regret.
“Look at that strumpet,” an elderly woman said to her companion in a loud, carrying whisper.
“Crumpets? Funny thing to serve at a ball.” Her companion’s confusion was clear.
“Millicent, I told you to bring your hearing trumpet,” the woman scolded. “Strumpet, not crumpet.”
Ry turned back to Meghan, acknowledging the woman was correct. Meghan wore a sheer dress and she’d dampened the fabric so it clung to every curve, leaving nothing for a male to imagine. She cozied up to him again.
Take your hands off that woman.
Ry stilled. Me?
Yes, you great lummox. You’re making a spectacle of yourself, came the tart and very familiar voice.
Camryn?
Who did you expect? The abominable snowman?
Ry separated their bodies to create a gap between him and Meghan. He’d no idea what an abominable snowman was but it didn’t sound good.
Thank you.
Ry narrowed his eyes and watched Camryn complete an elegant sashay before smiling at her partner. Their hands touched and she twirled gracefully, her lilac skirts flaring outward to display a flash of ankle and a deeper purple underskirt. His breath caught. With her black hair piled on top of her head, she was stunning. The lilac gown suited her perfectly, showcasing her slim waist and gorgeous breasts. He didn’t want any of the other woman, wasn’t even interested in looking. Ry wondered if he were sick since this had never happened before. He loved sex, though since meeting Camryn he only craved her. No, not sex. They made love. And now she’d started communicating with him telepathically. Satisfaction at the intimacy chased away astonishment until Camryn rejoined with Talor. He watched their hands make contact and scowled at his brother’s smug countenance. He wanted to rip his woman from Talor’s arms. Pushing aside every shred of inner protest, he concentrated on Meghan.
“Would you like to dance?” Frankly, he’d rather not, but he could act the civilized gentleman if necessary.
The relief in her expressive eyes suggested Talor had requested her to entertain him, perhaps distract him. Talor would have a plan, just as he did. He hated involving the women and dragging them into the middle of their personal battle.
When the band started their next number, Ry and Meghan joined a new set forming on the dance floor. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Camryn with another man and relaxed until he recognized him as another of Talor’s friends. It was obvious Talor knew what Camryn meant to him and intended to capitalize on the weakness.
“Why are you still with Talor?” Ry asked.
Meghan tripped before collecting herself. “You are a murderer.”
“No, I’m not. If you think that, why are you dancing with me?”
“Talor said I must,” she whispered with another glance at Talor.
“Talor is a liar.” Ry completed the prancing steps around Meghan before turning to face her. “You should leave him.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t. I want…I can’t leave Talor.”
Ry wondered if Talor was strong enough to compel her all the time. He caught a glimpse of Camryn. Camryn, be careful. Your partner is one of my brother’s friends.
Camryn didn’t react, but he caught her surprise. She smiled at her partner as they joined a set of dancers. Do you think all the names on my card are your brother’s friends?
I’d assume they were. Don’t tell them you are our trainer.
Camryn laughed at something her partner said. Ry’s admiration rose. They think we are lovers?
She sounded curious rather than upset. Ry smiled at Meghan and minced into the next set pattern of the dance. He caught a flash of Camryn’s thoughts. Gabriel. Ry’s smile died and jealousy took grip. Envious of a dead man. He snorted and attempted to concentrate on both the dance and Meghan.
Camryn whirled along the line to face another partner. This man kept his eyes on her face instead of scanning her breasts or attempting to grab her ass like her last one. Reassured, her gaze drifted to Ry. She’d talked to him telepathically. Confusion and a touch of fear gripped her mind.
More woo-woo for her to cope with.
She hated that woman’s hands crawling over Ry, the familiarity of her touch. Camryn flashed a smile at her partner and continued to sashay through the steps of the dance. She extended her hand and clasped her partner’s, prancing around him like a high-stepping horse, her attention still on Ry.
The woman—his partner—was shameless. Camryn’s jaw locked into place while she worked to control her seesaw emotions—her possessive feelings for Ry Coppersmith. Weird, she’d argued with him yet still hated him touching another woman. She had to focus on returning home.
The thought of home soothed her—her brother, her nephew, even her sister-in-law and Gabriel. He’d have loved to see her in this balldress and dancing. She’d always joked he’d been born in the wrong era, making Gabriel laugh about his cradle-snatcher status.
Her new partner’s fingers slid across her inner wrist in a stroke of intimacy. All of a sudden, she heard the man’s thoughts, just as she’d communicated with Ry.
Bet she’s hot between the sheets. Talor wouldn’t want her if she wasn’t. He cast a speculative look at her before thinking, I wonder if he’d share. He does owe me a favor.
Camryn spun away, following the steps while shock reverberated inside her. Did they think her a whore for sale? Yes, she slept with Ry, but she didn’t intend to share her body with another man. Or two. A favor? Huh! Camryn fumed. Talor Coppersmith was a slimeball sleaze. And his friends weren’t much better.
What is it? What’s wrong?
Camryn’s head jerked up and she almost tripped before recovering the rhythm. Nothing’s wrong, she snapped. Apart from you talking inside my head. It’s disconcerting and rude!
I’m not talking alone, Ry said dryly. I can do disconcerting, if you want. Imagine this, he said, his thought throbbing with pure seduction. Imagine we’re by the lake. The sun is shining and it’s so hot the crew is relaxing on the ship. We’re alone.
Alone? Camryn curtsied to her partner.
Yes, alone. I undress you. Slowly. I take off your tunic first to reveal your silky skin. I kiss the curves of your breasts, your shoulders and neck and lick across your collarbone. I trace my tongue around the outline of the tattoo on your shoul
der.
Camryn shuddered, her stomach clenching with desire, her tattoo starting to burn beneath the fabric of her pale lilac dress. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t. You’re supposed to reconnoiter, to help us win the race. The race is the reason we’re here. Remember?
You don’t like sex? You don’t like me stroking your nubs until you scream your pleasure? You don’t like the way I plunge my cock deep into your core and stroke you inside while my fingers brush across the cat on your shoulder?
I need a drink. Ry’s soft chuckle echoed inside her head.
You don’t need a drink. You need me. Ditch the man. Tell him you’re tired and send him for refreshments. I’ll meet you on the balcony.
It’s not polite.
I want you, Camryn.
Camryn’s breath exited in a slow hiss. She shouldn’t. It set a bad precedent—jumping when Ry said jump. After this dance, stressing her thought with firmness.
He chuckled again, the pleasure and male satisfaction sending a tickle of heat through her veins. I’ll bring you a drink. We’ll go out to the garden for privacy.
After this dance, Camryn repeated. The dance passed in a whirr of indecision. This was wrong. She knew it. She was undisciplined according to her sister-in-law.
But despite knowing she should discourage Ry, Camryn found herself in the garden, the cool air a balm to her aroused body.
I’m over by the fishpond, to your left.
Cocky kitty-cat.
His rich laugh filled her mind. I love your insults, sweetheart. They make me hot.
Camryn rounded a hedge and found him in the secluded shadows. “I need to work on my insults.”
“I intend to keep both your mind and mouth so busy you won’t have time to utter them,” he whispered before he drew her into the gloom and claimed her mouth.
She felt the thick ridge of his cock against her belly, felt the firm muscles bunching beneath her hands. When she ran her hands over his back, he voiced a hoarse curse. Her hand faltered until she realized she’d caressed the tattoos on his back. From experience, she knew how sensitive they became during lovemaking. Camryn shuddered at the thought of him tracing the outline of the cat on her shoulder and moisture pooled between her legs. “Touch me.” Her voice held a note of pleading.
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