His Unexpected Bride (21 page)

“Tess?”

She shrank back against the door, then laughed nervously. Cameron could not read the thoughts of her wayward mind. She went to the door on the other side of the hall. It was slightly ajar, and it came open as she reached out for the latch.

The way her breath caught when she saw Cameron in the easy dishevelment he chose around the house was by now customary, but her heart pounded ardently within her. She could not keep from admiring how his collarless shirt accented his strength. With his waistcoat unbuttoned and hanging loosely, his shoulders seemed even wider. His fingers on the door were stained with green, and she knew he had been working with the samples delivered to him earlier today from a ship that had sailed back to England from the islands of the Pacific Ocean.

All of that she noticed before her gaze was caught by his bright eyes, which matched his cheerful smile. Oh, how she wished he would smile more often! It transformed his face, urging her to give into her craving and draw those upturned lips to her. Mayhap, she reminded herself, looking away, it was for the best that he usually wore an even expression, for then she was not so tempted to cede her common sense to this longing.

“I thought,” he said, motioning her to come into this workroom, “you might be interested in seeing some of these samples. You asked many questions before.”

“Where specifically did these come from?” She was proud of herself for asking a question that did not sound as if she desperately were seeking something to say other than to plead for him to kiss her.

“These are from the Philippines.”

“The Philippines? Aren't they Spanish islands?”

He chuckled. “These samples have passed through many hands to reach me here, and they are in surprisingly good shape for their long journey.” He held up a flower that once might have been almost any color. The wide petals were now a dried brown. “I know it does not look pretty, but this was once an orchid. Its scent would have been exquisitely sweet.”

She touched the drooping petals. “Does it have a name?”

“A slipper orchid.”

“That is such a lovely name,” she said. “It sounds as if it should be part of lady's garments for a fancy assembly.”

“Let me show you. Sit here.” He pointed to one of a pair of chairs next to the table.

She sat while he pulled a book off the shelf. When he sat beside her and began paging through the book, she was treated to a view of his sharply sculptured profile. His hair fell into his eyes as he bent to read the pages.

With a laugh, she picked up the glasses that were folded on another shelf. She handed them to him. “I believe you need these Cameron.”

“Yes, I fear I do.” He grimaced. “By the elevens, I despise these awkward things.”

She ran her finger along the scar above his eyebrow. “If wearing barnacles is the worst you have to suffer when you were wounded here, you should be grateful.”

“Tess, I do not want to talk of that.” He drew her hand away.

“Then talk about your plants. Let me see a drawing of this orchid.”

For a long minute, Cameron regarded her with astonishment. Had others pestered him with demands for tales of what had taken place on the day he was wounded? In the past few weeks, she had learned Cameron would divulge some experience only when he chose. She should be grateful he did not delve too deeply into her past, because then she might not have been able to hide the truth Papa had asked her not to reveal.

He paged through the book. When he pointed to a drawing, Tess smiled. The petals of the slipper orchid had once been a soft, deep green that was a dull sheen in comparison with grass.

“This type of orchid grows on the ground,” he explained, “so it is easy to pass right by it without seeing it.”

“It is beautiful.” She looked at the plants placed in neat rows on the table. “You truly enjoy your study here.”

“It shows that much?”

She nodded with a smile. “You describe these plants in the glowing terms most men save for the woman they love. It is the one time you do not hide your true feelings.”

Leaning back on the hard chair, he closed the book and placed it on the shelf behind him. He stretched un-self-consciously, giving her an excellent view of the rippling muscles shadowed beneath his lawn shirt. She made sure her eyes met his when he turned back to her. The agreement between them was so fragile, and she did not want to do anything to wreck it when she had this opportunity to hear him speaking with such candor.

“I have longed to sail away to the Pacific since I first read of Captain Cook's travels.” He ran his fingers along one of the stems on the table. “I should say rather that I was fascinated by the studies conducted by Sir Joseph Banks, who discovered many new types of flora in those strange lands.”

“I saw, on your map here in your workroom, you have many species marked from that region, so those must be the ones you have studied already.”

“No, you have it quite in reverse, Tess. Those are the regions I planned to visit.” He stood and sighed. Taking off his glasses, he said, “More accurately, I should say once upon a time I planned to visit them.”

“Why didn't you go? When your father and brother were alive, there was nothing to prevent you from sailing to have your adventure.”

He nodded. “You are right, as you are so irritatingly often. However, I chose a different sort of adventure.”

“Fighting the French?”

“As the younger son, it was my duty.” His mouth quirked into a reluctant smile. “Can you imagine Russell leaving the comforts and entertainments of London to march through the mud?”

“Many other younger sons did not go.”

“But I did.”

Tess came to her feet and around the table to stand beside him in front of the map. “And once you had done your duty to your family, you intended to sail here?” She touched the wide expanse of blue.

“That was my plan.”

“All of which has come to naught.”

“Plans do that.” He set his glasses back on the shelf. “I could not have imagined my life would be filled with more danger once I returned from the Continent.”

“More danger? Do you think
you
are in danger from whoever was blackmailing your brother?”

“I think I am in danger, but not from that quarter.”

“Then from what?”

“I believe you know quite well.”

His lips tilted in a smile. It was her only warning before he pressed his mouth over hers. He pulled her to him, his arms enveloping her. Her skirt caught on the chair, but he simply tugged harder as his hands slid down along her back to hold her to his hard body. She gasped. Not at his action, but at her reaction to it. Every fiber of her delighted in his touch.

She met his mouth eagerly with her own. Her hands rose to curve along his nape. Moving the half step closer so her legs pressed against his, she sifted her fingers up through his hair as he traced a path of fire along her lips.

He lifted his mouth from hers to whisper, “You are what is most dangerous to me, Tess. You create a quandary within me.”

“And what is that?”

“How can I want to kiss you when you are so contrary?”

“I am not the contrary one,” she murmured as she traced the thick line of his right brow with her fingertip. “Nor am I the obstinate, obsessed, obnoxious, overbearing one.”

With a grin, he caught her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “'Tis about time you pay for all the insults you have heaped upon a man who enticed you into his workroom expressly to have you to himself for a few moments.”

Her amazement at his words melted into his lips as he urged them to part beneath his gentle assault. While he sought pleasure within her mouth, she slipped her hands under his loose waistcoat. His strong sinews reacted to her touch even as his rapid breath mingled with hers before he bent to taste the skin along her neck. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, urging her to press even nearer.

His fiery fingers left scintillating sparks along her waist as his mouth covered hers once more. Rapture, stronger than anything she had ever known, soared through her. Her hands clenched on his back as she trembled, unable to govern the maelstrom within her. Was she out of her mind? She could not let him draw her into the insanity of making this marriage real. She tried to pull away, but his arm tightened around her waist.

“Cameron, we cannot be silly,” she whispered as he swept her hair back from her face.

“What is silly about this?” His fingers twisted in her hair, sending pins flying about them in a silent storm.

She meant to give him a back-answer, to tell him she intended to leave this house and never to come back. She wanted to tell him she had been right. He was beastly to delight her like this when he still held on to the papers from the solicitor.

She had no chance as his lips slanted across hers. The sparks that had teased her when he touched her became a wildfire as his mouth dared hers to surrender to him. His fingers swept up her back, bringing her against him.

Turning her face away, she closed her eyes to keep the tears from leaking along her cheeks. She had depended on him to be sensible, but his fervor and her eager response warned this escalating desire could betray them more surely than Eustace Knox had. “Cameron, please stop.” She slid out of his arms.

Cameron reached to pull Tess back to him, but his hands dropped back to his sides when he saw the tears jeweling her eyes. “Of course.” Did she think he would force her into his bed? He never would do that. Or did she consider herself so irresistible to him that he could not control himself? Four months ago, he would have laughed at that question. Now it was no longer a hilarious idea. His gaze swept along her again, and the indisputable craving gripped him.

“Thank you for showing me your orchids,” Tess said, her voice little more than a ragged breath. “Good night, Cameron.” Her face bleached, and he knew even everyday words would be uneasy between them. She rushed out of the room, her footsteps echoing back to him until he heard her door shut at the front of the house.

He strode out of his workroom, closing the door behind him. By the elevens, what was wrong with him? He always had been able to keep his feelings firmly under control, just as his father had. His emotions would never dictate to him as Russell's had, for his brother seemed always at odds with himself in the battle between what he wished to do and what he knew he should do.

Having his coat, hat, and gloves brought, he went out of the house. Mayhap fresh air would bring some fresh ideas into his head and banish this unacceptable longing for his wife.

His wife!

There was the gist of the problem. She was his wife, to have and to hold. He had held her and now he wanted … her! He wanted her soft and willing in his arms as he watched her vibrant eyes burn with the passion that plagued him. Other relationships had been simpler, because the other women in his life had understood right from the onset what was to be between them. None of them had expected marriage, and it was the greatest irony that, now that he had a wife, he was denying himself the very pleasure he had enjoyed with those others.

This had to be resolved, one way or the other. But to make Tess his wife in more than name chanced opening himself up to someone as he never had, because he knew she would settle for nothing less than the very honesty she offered him.

“Cameron, you know you do not wish me to help you solve this problem.” Pamela Livingstone watched as Cameron paced the floor of her pretty parlor, which was the perfect complement for her own loveliness.

“If I had not wanted that, do you think I would have demeaned myself to come to beg for your assistance?”

She laughed. “You do not play the petitioner well.”

Cameron scowled, for her words were too reminiscent of ones Tess had spoken to him not so long ago. “I did not give you a call so you could ridicule me.”

“Ridicule? You know that is not my intention. As well, we both know I cannot undo whatever contretemps you have created now with Tess, so you must have come here for another reason.”

“Pamela, I am quite aware you are with Stedley now. I would never suggest you and I resume what we once shared.”

Again she laughed. “Dear Cameron, even more poorly than you play the petitioner, you take on the role of the gallant ex-lover.” Holding out the plate of cakes, she waited until he had sat and chosen one. “It was by mutual consent, as you recall, that we ended our
affaire de coeur.
”

“I do recall that.”

“We both know I am very happy with the viscount, and we both know you should be very happy with your charming wife.”

“Charming?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am not, but I had not expected you to speak so of Tess.”

“If you are in such a pelter you cannot own to that obvious truth, mayhap you should not have come calling.”

He set himself on his feet once again and strode toward the door. There, he paused. Looking back, he saw Pamela was still smiling.

“Well?” she asked.

“It is true.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Tess is very charming. Too charming, if you must know the truth.”

“Aha!”

“Aha?” He knew that self-satisfied tone. It meant Pamela believed she had gotten the better of him, something that had not happened often in their year together. Something that had happened already many more times with Tess in the short time she had been in his life.

“Do sit for more than a half second, Cameron, and tell me why you seem to be distressed that your wife is so charming she sends you fleeing from the comfort of her arms to my side.”

He walked to the chair where he had been sitting and leaned his hands on the back. “I do not wish to speak of Tess.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows rose, and she smiled. “I had no idea you were developing such a
tendre
for your wife.”