His Unexpected Bride (9 page)

“And what is that?” she asked, trying to ignore how his fingers stroked the curve of her arm.

“I must learn to trust you.”

“I told you that myself.”

“And I have realized you are correct. Now I ask you invest the same trust in me.” One corner of his mouth tilted. “After all, I have not thrown you on that bed and kissed you until you surrendered to the ecstasy I am quite certain we could share.”

“Cameron!” She edged away, startled he would speak so.

He stepped in front of her again to keep her from slipping past him. “I am more of a gentleman than you seem to think I am. Can't you trust me for just a few minutes?”

Staring up into his face, which still revealed too little of his emotions, she could not disregard the familiar delight billowing up from deep within her. She wanted him to stay. Talking with him might be the best antidote to the unhappiness that had burst out of their mutual frustration this evening.

“Can you be trustworthy for a few minutes?” she asked as she lowered her crossed arms to her sides.

“You wish honesty from me, I assume.”

“Yes.”

“Then I can honestly tell you that, with you, being trustworthy will be a struggle. That I must own. You inspire in me two very different desires: One to kiss you again because you are such a lovely woman.” His lips tilted in a smile as his eyes twinkled with sapphire fire. He abruptly scowled as he added with a threatening growl, “The other is to send you to sit in the corner, because you insist too often on acting like a child.”

“Mayhap I would not act so if you stopped trying to control everything I said and did.”

He drew back his hands and regarded her with astonishment. “I do not—”

“To the contrary, you do!” She put her hands on her waist and regarded him with a cold smile. “I am not a child, nor am I a possession—a most unwanted possession, I should add. I shall not be ordered about like a dog who waits to do your bidding. Mayhap I do not know as much as I should before embarking upon a Season in London, but may I remind you I do not intend to stay any longer than it will take to dissolve this marriage? Then,
my dear
Lord Hawksmoor, I shall not be a problem for you, nor shall I be subservient to your commands.”

Cameron was surprised he was not burned by the sparks in Tess's eyes, which glittered like dew-kissed grass at sunrise. This woman was too unpredictable. With other women, he always had been able to conjecture when they would erupt into anger or become fawning. Tess baffled him completely, for her anger, though volatile, could be icy cold. There was a gentleness within her that bewildered him even more, because, for some reason he could not fathom, she had forgiven her father and
him
for this marriage she so clearly hated.

“Mayhap,” he said, “I have been overly long involved with the army, because it seems I have become accustomed to giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed without question.”

“I am not one of your men.”

“Most definitely you are not.”

He was treated to that beguiling color that flooded up her cheeks, turning them the same deep rose as the curtains around her bed. His finger brushed one cheek's downy warmth before he could halt himself. When she turned her face away, he wanted to curse. She was right. They must make the best of these uncomfortable circumstances until they could put an end to them. Or the worst of them, he added with a sigh. The best would be to have her in his arms. The worst was this wanting to hold her and knowing, if he did, how completely he could be destroying any chance for them to end this marriage.

“Tess?”

At his hushed question, she looked at him again. “Cameron, I am fatigued. If you wish to continue to harangue me, can't it wait until we are in the carriage in the morning? We still have many miles to travel before we reach Town, and you can use them to list all my shortcomings.”

“That is not what I intended to say.”

“Then what did you intend to say?”

“Will you sit?” He motioned toward the chair.

He thought she might throw his polite words back into his face, but she nodded. As she crossed the small room, he could not keep his gaze from following the graceful sway of her hips. What was it about this woman? He had met her only days ago, but she continued to fascinate him. If he had half the wit of a goose, he would leave. She was a temperamental woman, no matter how she tried to pretend otherwise. She might look at him with an expression as dispassionate as any he wore, but she could not hide the passion he had tasted on her lips.

Handing her one of the cups again, he sat on the bed. Tess's eyes widened, but she said only, “This chocolate tastes very good on such a damp night.”

“I thought you might enjoy it.”

She drew her feet up beneath her and smiled, startling him. “A pot of chocolate seems to be the best prescription for any number of woes.”

“Something you learned from the stillroom at your father's house?”

“No. Something I learned through practice.” She chuckled again. “Tell me, Cameron, how do you deal with your tie-mates when they engage you in a battle of wits?”

“Do not mistake an honest attempt to learn more about you with a lack of wit on my part.”

She started to answer, then began to laugh. When he asked what she found so funny, she said through gasps of laughter, “You equate a lack of wit with becoming better acquainted with me. How flattering, Cameron!”

“You must own I would be jobbernowl to chance exploring the oddities of a woman's mind.”

“My mind is not odd.”

“From your point of view.”

“'Tis the only one I know.” She took another sip and smiled. In spite of himself, he could not keep from noticing how her eyes sparkled as she nestled into the chair. His arms suddenly felt empty, and he knew just now she would be the only one who would satisfactorily fill them.

He set his cup on the tray and reached out to take her hand. Running one finger along her willowy ones, he watched her lips part with a soft sigh. He needed only to cup her chin and tilt her face beneath his. Her mouth would be sweeter than the chocolate.

“Cameron,” she whispered.

Yanking his gaze away from her lips, he released her fingers before he could pull her closer.

“I think it would be for the best if we put an end to this conversation.” She set her cup next to his and came to her feet. “We must be leaving very early in the morning if we plan to reach London before nightfall.”

“Yes.” He stood and discovered she was so close not even a half step separated them. Her head tipped back as she looked up at him. When his hand cupped her cheek, her eyes closed and she leaned her face against his palm. In a whisper, he said, “It appears you were honest when you told me earlier today you are always honest.”

“Yes, even at unfortunate times like this evening.”

“Even fortunate times like now?”

“Fortunate?” she whispered.

“Yes, when we are alone like this when we can talk plainly and …”

She opened her eyes, and he knew his warning to her in the carriage was one he should remember now. Honesty was a dangerous trait when one stood this close to a beautiful redhead who just happened to be one's wife. An unrestrained need rushed through him, hot and demanding.

His mouth was on hers before he could take his next breath. Slowly, as if he had never kissed her before, he explored each delicious morsel of her mouth. Unhurried, but with an impatience that refused to be denied, he lured her lips to soften and offer up all their pleasure to him. He stroked her back, drawing her even closer to him. The softness of her against him threatened to undo every bit of his self-control.

He released her, stepping back before his traitorous arms could enfold her again. He was seven times a widgeon, for Eustace had conceded Cameron might be right that there was more to this marriage than Masterson wanting a well-placed husband for his beloved daughter. But who would have been Masterson's ally in this and why? Eustace had owned to having his hand forced so he could not halt the ceremony, but refused to say by whom or why. That, his friend had warned, might endanger all of them.

He did not want to think of that now as he gazed at his wife, whose breathing was as frayed as his. He forced his voice to be even as he said, “You are not, by any stretch of the definition, a little mouse, despite what Eustace said. I am not sure what you are, but I suspect, before we can gratefully bid each other
adieu
, I shall have learned.”

She smiled, and he wondered how long any man with a heart beating within him could resist such a lovely sight. “Will you?”

“Without a doubt.” His arm was around her waist again and her lips beneath his, branding him with the sweet fire that he craved and which, as her arms slid around his shoulders, he feared ultimately would betray him to whichever enemy had been behind this scheme to see him wed.

Seven

This was so strange.

Not strange in that Tess had never seen anything like the houses that edged Grosvenor Square, but because she could not imagine calling a town house on this elegant square home. Along the walkway, a man followed a small black dog stretching to the full extent of its leash to test every scent. Two children chased each other in the center of the square, sending the pigeons flitting up in front of them. As soon as the birds settled, the boy and girl raced through them again.

The carriage slowed on the north side of the square. Before it came to a stop, the tiger had jumped down from the boot and was preparing to open the door. He stepped back and bowed with a flourish that would have befit the Prince Regent himself.

“Thank you,” Cameron said as he stepped out. Turning, he offered his hand to her. “Tess, what are you waiting for?”

Tempted to tell him she would prefer to sit here until she could understand how she was to maneuver through the maze of the life that had become hers, she sighed. She would be silly to remain in the carriage, because the only way she could decipher this puzzle was to spend more time with this so very puzzling man. When he had pulled her into his arms last night, she had been astounded and thrilled. The latter reaction frightened her.

Her hand settled on his broad palm, and she recalled again, most unwillingly, how he had held her last night. His kiss had been devastating to her determination to keep him distant, for it had coaxed her to abandon caution. Nothing should have changed, but everything had when his lips caressed hers. She might have been able to toss aside the memory of his kisses in her bedroom when he woke her, but not the ones in the inn. Then she could have pushed him away, could have ordered him to leave, could have reminded him of the jeopardy of any hint of affection between them. Instead she had melted against him like a sweet left out in the sunshine.

When he did not meet her eyes as he handed her out, Tess withdrew her hand quickly from his. He walked to where the cart was almost unloaded. It had reached the house before them, because the carriage had paused on another street Tess had not been able to identify to let Mr. Knox take his leave.

Jenette came over to where Tess waited and held out her hand for Heddy's cage, which a footman had taken from the carriage and was regarding with obvious curiosity. The maid was wide-eyed as she turned slowly around to stare at all sides of the square. “Oh, my, isn't this grand?” she murmured over and over.

Wishing she could do the same, Tess put her hand on Cameron's arm when he returned to her side and motioned toward the door of the house directly in front of them. She must not gawk like a bumpkin, for she had no idea who might be peering out of one of the dozens of windows facing the square. A single mistake now could put an end to all her hopes of getting back the life she had dreamed would be hers.

Yet … she looked up at Cameron's face, which could have been carved from the same pale stone as pillars on the front of the houses. Even a day ago, she could not have imagined how such a kiss would alter all her assumptions. She had been certain she wanted nothing more than to put an end to this debacle and get this man out of her life.

She should be grateful he had taken his leave right after that mind-sapping kiss. He had said something as he left, but she could not recall what it was. She had been so overwhelmed by the longing his kiss evoked that all thoughts had been tossed, willy-nilly, from her head. This morning, he had been the epitome of gracious and distant politeness. Nothing more. If he thought to act as if he had not kissed her again, she wished she could comply. That would be the sensible thing to do, and she always had been a most sensible lass, her father had told her. But she could not be reasonable about her most unreasonable longing to be in her husband's arms again.

The door opened as they neared. Hearing Jenette repeat, “Oh, my!” Tess was tempted to echo it as she entered the foyer. She had thought her grandmother's house was elegant, but even that fancy London house seemed simple compared to the grandeur of this one. Red striped wallpaper accented the height of the ceiling on this floor. Although the doors opening onto it were closed, the mahogany floor glistened with obvious care. The wood was topped by rugs she knew must come from the East. Matching carpet climbed stairs edged with metal newel posts engraved with what appeared to be some sort of a herald pattern.

Arches opened in the gallery above, although a pair were closed, as if someone had decided there were too many views from the upper floors. Lamps of bronze and crystal hung from the two of the arches where their soft light would wash down over the foyer. But the most magnificent part of the entry was directly above. A stained glass window was set in the roof four stories above them. It splashed light in a rainbow of colors onto the floor and onto them.

Cameron greeted the man who had opened the door, then added, “This is Harbour, the butler. You need only ask, Tess, and he will see you have what you need.”