The Many Sins of Lord Cameron
Page 22
Then Daniel slammed the door, and Ainsley’s view of him was lost.
“I’d better do up your back.”
“Pardon?” Ainsley stopped at the top of the stairs as Daniel jumped two steps past her. The dogs slithered by and ran all the way down the staircase, then hurried up again to see what was keeping the human beings.
“If someone sees ye like that, they’ll talk,” Daniel said. “Especially when ye disappeared so sudden.”
She’d forgotten about the undone clasps under her shawl, but Daniel had a point. Running about with a bodice undone would make even the dullest person realize what she’d been up to.
Smothering a sigh, Ainsley lowered her shawl and turned her back. Daniel, at her head height when he stood two stairs down, quickly hooked the clasps together. His skill told her that he, at sixteen, already had experience doing up women’s dresses. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, she supposed.
“How did you know I was in your father’s study?” Ainsley asked Daniel when he finished.
“I saw you go inside the house with him. I always keep an eye on my Dad. Don’t worry, I made sure no one else noticed.”
When she turned around, Daniel was studying her with his Mackenzie eyes, darker than his father’s, his face sharp and fine boned rather than hard. Daniel could look at a person with remarkable percipience, seeing through every layer they tried to put in his way. While Ian Mackenzie didn’t like to meet a person’s gaze directly, Daniel Mackenzie bored into their eyes to the point of rudeness.
“Do you like my dad?” Daniel asked it without rancor. He simply wanted to know.
“I barely know your dad.”
“You were about to let him have his way with ye. I hope you like him a little.”
Ainsley flushed. “Well, if you put it like that.”
“I do put it like that. I like you, ye see, and I know Dad does too. But I don’t want him toying with you and then turning his back on ye a month later, with a pretty gift for compensation. I told him tonight that I was interested in you meself, and you should have seen him come over growling, telling me to stay away.” Daniel grinned. “I only told him that to see if he fancied you enough. I guess he does.”
“You shouldn’t have said it at all, Danny,” she said. “He probably believed you.”
“Naw, Dad don’t take much heed of what I say.” Daniel folded his arms. “But I don’t want him leading you down the garden path, so to speak.”
Ainsley adjusted her shawl. “Well, you have nothing to worry about on that account, my boy. I’m not naïve, nor am I the sort of woman your father prefers.”
“No, but I’m thinking you’re the sort of woman he needs.” Ainsley slowly let out her breath. Her body still sang from Cameron’s touch, and she found it difficult to focus on his son’s practical words.
“Put that out of your head,” she said. “At the end of the house party, it’s back to Balmoral and the queen for me. I’ll not likely cross paths with your father for a long time.”
And won’t that be a shame?
Daniel didn’t hide the disappointment in his eyes. “Mrs. Douglas, ye have to try.”
“No, I don’t. I need to get into my ball gown and go play hostess with your aunts.” But wouldn’t it be grand to be a glittering lady in bright silks, with diamonds on her bosom, dancing waltz after waltz in a sumptuous ballroom? Her partner would be Cameron, a big man who moved with grace.
Daniel stopped arguing, but his glower spoke volumes. He finally turned and led the way down the stairs, dogs scampering with him. He moved so fast that by the time Ainsley caught up to him at the bottom of the staircase, she was running.
Whiskey didn’t calm him. Cameron tried to make himself feel better by using his foot to scatter the stacks of papers Ainsley had made, and then kicking them. Neither helped much.
He stormed back into his bedroom, did up his shirt, and pulled on another coat, not bothering with the cravat. He could never tie the bloody things decently. That’s what women and valets were for.
He drank as he dressed, but half the decanter of whiskey couldn’t erase the taste of Ainsley from his mouth. If Daniel hadn’t come charging in, Cameron would be inside her by now, finally learning what she’d feel like around him.
He wasn’t sure what to make of Daniel’s interruption. His look at his father had been one of annoyance, not jealous rage. Daniel’s story about wanting Ainsley for a mistress seemed to have faded to smoke, the boy using it as a ploy of some sort.
Hell, Cameron never knew what Daniel really thought or wanted. They never talked—they bantered. Or argued. Daniel wasn’t a bad lad, but his idea of obedience was doing what Cameron wanted only if Daniel had already decided on the same course. If Daniel disagreed with Cameron, he did what he damn well pleased.
Cameron gave up and let him. Cameron’s own father had been the devil himself, controlling his sons so tightly that Cameron was surprised that any of the Mackenzies could still breathe.
The old duke had gone easiest on Cameron, because Cameron had been interested in horses and erotic pictures—As a man should be, their father had said.
The old duke had regularly beaten Ian, saying that Ian was being sullen when he wouldn’t look at anyone. He’d beaten Mac for his love of art, like a bloody unnatural; and Hart every day regardless, to make a man of him. When he’s duke and beset by fools, he’ll be strong.
“I’d better do up your back.”
“Pardon?” Ainsley stopped at the top of the stairs as Daniel jumped two steps past her. The dogs slithered by and ran all the way down the staircase, then hurried up again to see what was keeping the human beings.
“If someone sees ye like that, they’ll talk,” Daniel said. “Especially when ye disappeared so sudden.”
She’d forgotten about the undone clasps under her shawl, but Daniel had a point. Running about with a bodice undone would make even the dullest person realize what she’d been up to.
Smothering a sigh, Ainsley lowered her shawl and turned her back. Daniel, at her head height when he stood two stairs down, quickly hooked the clasps together. His skill told her that he, at sixteen, already had experience doing up women’s dresses. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, she supposed.
“How did you know I was in your father’s study?” Ainsley asked Daniel when he finished.
“I saw you go inside the house with him. I always keep an eye on my Dad. Don’t worry, I made sure no one else noticed.”
When she turned around, Daniel was studying her with his Mackenzie eyes, darker than his father’s, his face sharp and fine boned rather than hard. Daniel could look at a person with remarkable percipience, seeing through every layer they tried to put in his way. While Ian Mackenzie didn’t like to meet a person’s gaze directly, Daniel Mackenzie bored into their eyes to the point of rudeness.
“Do you like my dad?” Daniel asked it without rancor. He simply wanted to know.
“I barely know your dad.”
“You were about to let him have his way with ye. I hope you like him a little.”
Ainsley flushed. “Well, if you put it like that.”
“I do put it like that. I like you, ye see, and I know Dad does too. But I don’t want him toying with you and then turning his back on ye a month later, with a pretty gift for compensation. I told him tonight that I was interested in you meself, and you should have seen him come over growling, telling me to stay away.” Daniel grinned. “I only told him that to see if he fancied you enough. I guess he does.”
“You shouldn’t have said it at all, Danny,” she said. “He probably believed you.”
“Naw, Dad don’t take much heed of what I say.” Daniel folded his arms. “But I don’t want him leading you down the garden path, so to speak.”
Ainsley adjusted her shawl. “Well, you have nothing to worry about on that account, my boy. I’m not naïve, nor am I the sort of woman your father prefers.”
“No, but I’m thinking you’re the sort of woman he needs.” Ainsley slowly let out her breath. Her body still sang from Cameron’s touch, and she found it difficult to focus on his son’s practical words.
“Put that out of your head,” she said. “At the end of the house party, it’s back to Balmoral and the queen for me. I’ll not likely cross paths with your father for a long time.”
And won’t that be a shame?
Daniel didn’t hide the disappointment in his eyes. “Mrs. Douglas, ye have to try.”
“No, I don’t. I need to get into my ball gown and go play hostess with your aunts.” But wouldn’t it be grand to be a glittering lady in bright silks, with diamonds on her bosom, dancing waltz after waltz in a sumptuous ballroom? Her partner would be Cameron, a big man who moved with grace.
Daniel stopped arguing, but his glower spoke volumes. He finally turned and led the way down the stairs, dogs scampering with him. He moved so fast that by the time Ainsley caught up to him at the bottom of the staircase, she was running.
Whiskey didn’t calm him. Cameron tried to make himself feel better by using his foot to scatter the stacks of papers Ainsley had made, and then kicking them. Neither helped much.
He stormed back into his bedroom, did up his shirt, and pulled on another coat, not bothering with the cravat. He could never tie the bloody things decently. That’s what women and valets were for.
He drank as he dressed, but half the decanter of whiskey couldn’t erase the taste of Ainsley from his mouth. If Daniel hadn’t come charging in, Cameron would be inside her by now, finally learning what she’d feel like around him.
He wasn’t sure what to make of Daniel’s interruption. His look at his father had been one of annoyance, not jealous rage. Daniel’s story about wanting Ainsley for a mistress seemed to have faded to smoke, the boy using it as a ploy of some sort.
Hell, Cameron never knew what Daniel really thought or wanted. They never talked—they bantered. Or argued. Daniel wasn’t a bad lad, but his idea of obedience was doing what Cameron wanted only if Daniel had already decided on the same course. If Daniel disagreed with Cameron, he did what he damn well pleased.
Cameron gave up and let him. Cameron’s own father had been the devil himself, controlling his sons so tightly that Cameron was surprised that any of the Mackenzies could still breathe.
The old duke had gone easiest on Cameron, because Cameron had been interested in horses and erotic pictures—As a man should be, their father had said.
The old duke had regularly beaten Ian, saying that Ian was being sullen when he wouldn’t look at anyone. He’d beaten Mac for his love of art, like a bloody unnatural; and Hart every day regardless, to make a man of him. When he’s duke and beset by fools, he’ll be strong.
