The Many Sins of Lord Cameron
Page 43
“No, I see that.” Ainsley didn’t want it between them either. “But you can’t stop me from being grateful. Thank you for your help, Cam.”
She half feared he would make good his threat and drag her to the nearest clump of bushes, but Cameron only cupped her face with a gentle hand.
He hadn’t had to help her. He could have demanded the price Phyllida had said he would before he’d even lend Ainsley the money. But he’d fought this battle for her, and now he’d turned back to what was between them.
Cameron’s coachman must have been alert, because a carriage circled the drive not far away, its coach lights bright. Cameron picked up Ainsley again and made for it.
Stars were out in profusion, the night dry and cold. “I miss this sky when I’m in London,” Ainsley said. “It’s breathtaking.”
“It’s bloody freezing.”
“I notice most Scotsmen complain about the weather while we’re surrounded by beauty.”
“Right now, I’d rather be surrounded by warmth.”
They reached the carriage. A footman materialized out of the dark as the carriage rolled to a halt and opened its door.
“In you go.” Cameron lifted Ainsley inside, where she sank onto comfortable cushions.
Cameron dropped a tip into the footman’s hand, glanced up at his coachman, and made a circling motion with his finger. “Right ye are, sir,” the coachman said cheerfully.
Cameron folded the steps and pulled himself into the carriage as it jerked forward. He slammed the door and dropped onto the seat next to Ainsley, smelling of the night and the good scents of the outdoors.
Without a word Cameron pulled off her wig and mask and tossed both to the opposite seat. Cool air touched Ainsley’s face, and her head felt suddenly light.
“That’s better,” Cameron said. “My little mouse is back.”
“Hardly flattering to call a woman a mouse, you know.” She knew she was babbling, nervous, but she couldn’t still her tongue.
“You hide behind my curtains and scuttle around my rooms. What else should I call you?”
“You said ferret, once. But you wouldn’t give a diamond necklace to a mouse or a ferret. Well, not unless you were very silly. They’d try to eat it or use it to line their nests.”
“I don’t give a damn what you use the diamonds for.” Cameron slid his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “As long as you like them.”
“I do. They’re lovely.”
“No more talk about giving them back or not accepting them?”
“I wouldn’t accept them from any other gentleman, no,” she said in a decided voice. “But for you, I will make an exception.”
“You’d damn well better not accept them from any other gentleman. Any other man tries to give you jewelry, and I’ll pummel him. Right after I pummel Rowlindson for letting you come here tonight.”
She shivered. “He is rather strange.”
“He’s disgusting. He understands only crudity. Not beauty.”
Ainsley touched the velvet wall of the coach. “This is a very comfortable carriage. Quite large and warm.”
“I travel a lot during the horse season. I like a big traveling coach, especially if I have to sleep in it.”
“You could take trains, surely. Even with the horses.”
“The horses don’t like the train, and the coal smoke is bad for their lungs.”
He sounded like a worried father. “You are very kind to your horses.”
Cameron shrugged. “They’re expensive animals, and they give me all they have. Idiots ruin them by not taking care of them.”
“You take good care of Jasmine, even though she’s not yours.”
“Because she’s a damn fine horse.”
His voice held longing. “You truly want her, don’t you?” Ainsley asked.
“Yes.” Cameron’s fingers under her chin tilted her head back. “And I truly want you.”
“I hope not for the same reason. I don’t gallop very fast.”
“You have a lot of the devil in you, Ainsley.”
“So I’m told—”
Cameron silenced her words with a kiss.
Soft lips, trembling and nervous, but determined at the same time. Cameron tasted her need to be held and touched, her laughter. He’d never, ever met a woman like her.
His heart beat faster, his body beginning to perspire in the coach’s heat. Whenever he seduced a woman, Cameron was calm and cool, knowing the steps it took to reach the brief part of coupling that brought him alive. The spark lasted only a short while, but it was heady when he got there.
He always made sure the ladies enjoyed great pleasure, his gift to them for releasing him from numbness. He reflected that the women often had a much better time with the whole thing than he did.
Tonight he was impatient, clumsy with need. He tugged at the waistband of Ainsley’s skirt. “I want this off.”
Pins that held skirt to bodice tinkled to the carpet. When Ainsley reached forward to catch them, Cameron unfastened the clasps on the skirt’s back. The velvet folds came away, so many yards of them.
Cameron knelt on the floor in front of her as he pulled away the last of the skirt. Underneath the skirt’s smothering fabric he found—sofa pillows. He burst out laughing.
“We didn’t have panniers,” Ainsley said. She pulled a cushion out from the sash that tied them around her waist. “It was Morag’s idea.”
She half feared he would make good his threat and drag her to the nearest clump of bushes, but Cameron only cupped her face with a gentle hand.
He hadn’t had to help her. He could have demanded the price Phyllida had said he would before he’d even lend Ainsley the money. But he’d fought this battle for her, and now he’d turned back to what was between them.
Cameron’s coachman must have been alert, because a carriage circled the drive not far away, its coach lights bright. Cameron picked up Ainsley again and made for it.
Stars were out in profusion, the night dry and cold. “I miss this sky when I’m in London,” Ainsley said. “It’s breathtaking.”
“It’s bloody freezing.”
“I notice most Scotsmen complain about the weather while we’re surrounded by beauty.”
“Right now, I’d rather be surrounded by warmth.”
They reached the carriage. A footman materialized out of the dark as the carriage rolled to a halt and opened its door.
“In you go.” Cameron lifted Ainsley inside, where she sank onto comfortable cushions.
Cameron dropped a tip into the footman’s hand, glanced up at his coachman, and made a circling motion with his finger. “Right ye are, sir,” the coachman said cheerfully.
Cameron folded the steps and pulled himself into the carriage as it jerked forward. He slammed the door and dropped onto the seat next to Ainsley, smelling of the night and the good scents of the outdoors.
Without a word Cameron pulled off her wig and mask and tossed both to the opposite seat. Cool air touched Ainsley’s face, and her head felt suddenly light.
“That’s better,” Cameron said. “My little mouse is back.”
“Hardly flattering to call a woman a mouse, you know.” She knew she was babbling, nervous, but she couldn’t still her tongue.
“You hide behind my curtains and scuttle around my rooms. What else should I call you?”
“You said ferret, once. But you wouldn’t give a diamond necklace to a mouse or a ferret. Well, not unless you were very silly. They’d try to eat it or use it to line their nests.”
“I don’t give a damn what you use the diamonds for.” Cameron slid his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “As long as you like them.”
“I do. They’re lovely.”
“No more talk about giving them back or not accepting them?”
“I wouldn’t accept them from any other gentleman, no,” she said in a decided voice. “But for you, I will make an exception.”
“You’d damn well better not accept them from any other gentleman. Any other man tries to give you jewelry, and I’ll pummel him. Right after I pummel Rowlindson for letting you come here tonight.”
She shivered. “He is rather strange.”
“He’s disgusting. He understands only crudity. Not beauty.”
Ainsley touched the velvet wall of the coach. “This is a very comfortable carriage. Quite large and warm.”
“I travel a lot during the horse season. I like a big traveling coach, especially if I have to sleep in it.”
“You could take trains, surely. Even with the horses.”
“The horses don’t like the train, and the coal smoke is bad for their lungs.”
He sounded like a worried father. “You are very kind to your horses.”
Cameron shrugged. “They’re expensive animals, and they give me all they have. Idiots ruin them by not taking care of them.”
“You take good care of Jasmine, even though she’s not yours.”
“Because she’s a damn fine horse.”
His voice held longing. “You truly want her, don’t you?” Ainsley asked.
“Yes.” Cameron’s fingers under her chin tilted her head back. “And I truly want you.”
“I hope not for the same reason. I don’t gallop very fast.”
“You have a lot of the devil in you, Ainsley.”
“So I’m told—”
Cameron silenced her words with a kiss.
Soft lips, trembling and nervous, but determined at the same time. Cameron tasted her need to be held and touched, her laughter. He’d never, ever met a woman like her.
His heart beat faster, his body beginning to perspire in the coach’s heat. Whenever he seduced a woman, Cameron was calm and cool, knowing the steps it took to reach the brief part of coupling that brought him alive. The spark lasted only a short while, but it was heady when he got there.
He always made sure the ladies enjoyed great pleasure, his gift to them for releasing him from numbness. He reflected that the women often had a much better time with the whole thing than he did.
Tonight he was impatient, clumsy with need. He tugged at the waistband of Ainsley’s skirt. “I want this off.”
Pins that held skirt to bodice tinkled to the carpet. When Ainsley reached forward to catch them, Cameron unfastened the clasps on the skirt’s back. The velvet folds came away, so many yards of them.
Cameron knelt on the floor in front of her as he pulled away the last of the skirt. Underneath the skirt’s smothering fabric he found—sofa pillows. He burst out laughing.
“We didn’t have panniers,” Ainsley said. She pulled a cushion out from the sash that tied them around her waist. “It was Morag’s idea.”
