Mine Till Midnight (27 page)

Frowning in curiosity, Cam readily complied.

“The maids were talking about it,” Merripen replied. “I heard them standing outside my door. You dishonored one of my family.”

“Yes, I know,” Cam said quietly.

“You’re not good enough for her.”

“I know that, too.” Watching him intently, Cam asked, “Do you want her for yourself,
chal?
”

Merripen looked mortally offended. “She’s a sister to me.”

“That’s good. Because I want her for my wife. And as far as I can see”—Cam gestured wide with his hands—“there aren’t exactly queues forming to help the Hathaways. So I may be able to help the family.”

“They don’t need your money. Ramsay has an annuity.”

“Ramsay will be dead soon. We both know it. And after he turns up his toes, the title will go to the next poor bastard in line, and there’ll be four unmarried Hathaway sisters with few practical skills to speak of. What do you think will become of them? What about the invalid? She’ll need medical care—”

“She’s not an invalid!” Merripen made his face expressionless, but not before Cam had seen a flash of extraordinary emotion, something ferocious and tormented.

Apparently, Cam thought, not all of the Hathaways were like sisters to Merripen. Perhaps this was the key to him. Perhaps Merripen harbored a secret passion for a woman who was too innocent to realize it, and too frail ever to marry.

“Merripen,” Cam said slowly, “you’re going to have to find a way to tolerate me. Because there are things I can do for Amelia, and the rest of them, that you can’t.” He continued in a level tone despite the look on Merripen’s face, which would have terrified a lesser man. “And I don’t have the patience to battle you every step of the way. If you want what’s best for them, either leave, or accept this. I’m not going anywhere.”

As the huge
chal
glared at him, Cam could almost see the progression of his thoughts, the weighing of options, the violent desire to mow down his enemy, all of it overshadowed by the urge to do what was right for his family.

“Besides,” Cam said, “if Amelia doesn’t marry me, the
gadjo
will be after her again. And you know she’ll be better off with me.”

Merripen’s eyes narrowed. “Frost broke her heart. You took her innocence. Why does that make you any better?”

“Because I’m not going to leave her. Unlike the
gadjos,
the Rom are faithful to our women.” Cam paused and measured out five seconds before adding deliberately, “You probably know that better than I.”

Merripen fixed his furious gaze at a point in the distance. “If you hurt her in any way…” he finally said, “I’m going to kill you.”

“Fair enough.”

“I may kill you anyway.”

Cam smiled slightly. “You’d be surprised how many people have said that to me before.”

“No,” Merripen said, “I wouldn’t.”

*   *   *

Amelia paused nervously at the door of Cam’s room. There were sounds of movement within, drawers opening and closing, objects being moved. She realized he must be preparing to leave for London.

The residents and guests of Stony Cross Manor had discreetly left the back terrace before Cam and Merripen had returned. Amelia had just caught sight of Merripen returning to his room, his ferocious scowl deepening as he had glanced at her. She had opened her mouth to ask something, apologize, she wasn’t certain what, but he had cut her off. “Your choice,” he muttered. “And it affects all of us. Don’t forget that.” He had closed the door before she could say a word.

Glancing up and down the hallway, Amelia made certain she was unobserved before she gave a feather-light rap at the door and let herself into the room.

Cam pushed a stack of neatly folded garments into a small gentleman’s trunk at the foot of the bed. He looked up at her, a spill of black silk falling down to his eyes. He was so vibrant, so dark and beautiful, his skin like polished rosewood.

Amelia’s voice came unevenly from her constricted throat. “I was afraid Merripen would bring you back in pieces.”

Stepping away from the bed, toward her, Cam smiled. “All still here.”

As Amelia glanced at the lean, fascinating contours of his body, she felt her temperature rise. She turned to the side and spoke rapidly.

“I’ve considered everything you said earlier. I’ve made a decision. But first I’d like to explain that it has nothing to do with your personal endowments, which are quite considerable. It’s just that—”

“My personal endowments?”

“Yes. Your intelligence. Your attractiveness.”

“Oh.”

Wondering why his voice sounded odd, Amelia darted a questioning glance at him. The amber eyes were bright with laughter. What had she said to amuse him? “Are you paying attention?”

“Believe me, when my personal endowments are being discussed, I always pay attention. Go on.”

She frowned. “Mr. Rohan, although I consider your offer a great compliment, and present circumstances being what they—”

“Let’s get to the point, Amelia.” His hands closed over her shoulders. “Are you going to marry me?”

“I
can’t,
” she said weakly. “I just can’t. We don’t suit. It’s obvious we’re not at all alike. You’re impetuous. You make life-altering decisions in the blink of an eye. Whereas I choose one course and I don’t stray from it.”

“You strayed last night. And look how well it turned out.” He grinned at her expression. “I’m not impetuous, love. It’s just that I know when something is too important to be decided according to logic.”

“And
marriage
is one of those things?”

“Of course.” Cam settled a hand high on her chest, over the wild pounding of her heart. “You have to decide it in here.”

Amelia’s chest felt tight beneath the warmth of his hand. “I’ve only known you for a matter of days. We’re still strangers. I can’t entrust the future of my entire family to a man I don’t even know.”

“A couple can be married fifty years and never know each other. Besides, you know the important things about me already.”

Amelia heard an annoying drumming sound, and she thought at first it was the wild percussion of her heart. But as Cam’s leg intruded gently among the folds of her borrowed dress and touched hers, she realized she was doing her blasted foot-tapping again. With an effort, she went still.

Sliding one arm around her, Cam picked up her left hand, bringing it to his mouth. His lips brushed over the chafed red patch on her knuckle, where she had tried to pull the ring off.

“It’s stuck,” she grumbled. “It’s too small.”

“It’s not too small. Just relax your hand and it will come off.”

“My hand
is
relaxed.”

“Gadjis,”
he said. “You’re all as stiff as amaranth wood. It must be your corsets.” His head bent, his mouth finding hers. He explored slowly, enticing her to open for him, hunting for the shy tip of her tongue. She stirred in dismay as she realized he was unfastening the back of her gown. The bodice loosened in front, sagging away from her neatly confined breasts.

“Cam … no…”

“Shhh…” The hot, exciting waft of his breath filled her mouth. “I’m helping you remove the ring. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Removing this ring has nothing to do with pulling my corset str—oh, no—” The web of stays had split open to expose a lush display of flesh. “This isn’t helping.” She tried to pull up her disassembled clothing with the clumsiness of someone moving underwater.

“It’s helping me quite a lot.” Cam’s hand slipped into the back of her drawers. She wriggled in violated modesty, her clothes dropping ever more rapidly toward the floor.

“I have to see you in daylight.” His mouth chased lightly, hungrily over her throat and shoulder. “
Monisha,
you are the most beautiful woman, the most…” His hands moved with increasing impatience, pulling hard at her clothes until a few stitches popped.

“Don’t, this dress doesn’t belong to me,” Amelia said anxiously, fumbling to unfasten the borrowed garments herself rather than have them torn. She froze at the sound of footsteps coming along the hallway, passing the closed door without stopping. Most likely it was a servant. But what if someone had seen her entering Cam’s room?… What if someone were searching for her at this very moment? “Cam, please, not now.”

“I’ll be gentle.” He lifted her from the circle of discarded clothes. “I know it’s soon after your first time.”

She shook her head as he laid her on the bed. Clenching the fabric of her chemise with both hands to keep it in place, she whispered, “No, it’s not that. Someone will find out. Someone will hear. Someone will—”

“Let go, hummingbird, so I can take this off you.” There was a flick of devil’s fire in his eyes as he said mildly, “Let go, or I’ll rip it.”

“Cam, don’t—”

She was interrupted by the sound of rending linen. He had torn it completely down the front, the fragile material drooping on either side of her.

“You’ve ruined it,” she said in disbelief. “How am I to explain this to the maid? And how am I to put my corset back on?”

Cam didn’t look at all apologetic as he pulled the remnants of the chemise away from her body. “Take off your drawers. Or I’ll have to rip those, too.”

“Oh, God.” Seeing no way to stop him, Amelia pulled the drawers down over her hips. “Lock the door,” she whispered with a scarlet face. “Please,
please
lock it.”

A quick smile passed over Cam’s mouth. He left the bed and went to the door, stripping off his jerkin and shirt along the way. After turning the key in the lock, he took his time about returning to the bed, seeming to enjoy the sight of her burrowing beneath the bed linens.

He stood before her half-naked, the breeches riding low on his hips. Amelia dragged her gaze away from the sleek, tightly muscled surface of his torso, and shivered between the cold layers of the bedclothes. “You’re putting me in a terrible position.”

Cam finished undressing and joined her beneath the covers. “I know other positions you’ll like much better.”

She was pulled against him full-length, his body large and startlingly warm. He ran his hands over her, discovering she was still wearing garters and silk stockings. With a smoothness that left her gasping, Cam disappeared beneath the covers, his broad shoulders tenting the layers of linen, wool and velvet.

Amelia tried to struggle to a sitting position but fell back with a whimper as she felt his mouth against the soft skin inside her thigh. He untied the garter, letting it fall away, and began to roll the stocking down her leg with torturous slowness, his lips following the path of furling silk. His tongue ventured into the hollow behind her knee … glided over the clenched muscle of her calf … the delicate side of her ankle. The silk was gently tugged away from her clenched toes. It took fierce concentration not to cry out as she felt his hot, wet mouth closing over her toes, one at a time, sucking and stroking while her ticklish foot jerked in response.

By the time the second stocking was removed, Amelia was steaming. She fought to push the covers back, away from her overheated skin. The tips of her breasts contracted tightly as they were exposed to the cool air. Cam pushed her thighs wide, her legs crooked over the hard bulwark of his shoulders. His fingers sifted through the springy curls, and he kissed her tenderly, licking into the heat and tension, circling and drawing lightly. Too much … not enough … Amelia strained beneath the soft-flicking torture.

He settled a hand over her stomach, rubbing in soothing circles. “Lie easy, sweetheart.”

“I c-can’t. Oh, do hurry!”

Cam laughed softly, his parted lips dragging across her sensitive flesh. He traced her with his tongue, made her wet, and blew against the dampened curls. “It’s better for you if I don’t hurry.”

“No it’s not.”

“Much you know about it. This is only your second time.”

She gave a little sob as he used his tongue again. “I can’t bear much more of this.”

He licked over her, fiendishly sweet, and inside her, lewd and deep, until she was breathing in moans and his hot breath was shivering against her. He moved upward, his body settling into the taut slip of her thighs, and he entered her in a thick slide. She gasped at the shock of him filling her, pushing until she gasped, and dug her fingertips into his shoulder.

Cam paused, staring down at her with dilated eyes, the irises bright gold rims around circles of fathomless midnight. “Amelia, love…” His kiss tasted of salt and intimacy. “Can you take a little more of me?”

She fought to think above the confusion of pleasure, and shook her head jerkily.

The corners of his lips deepened with a smile. He whispered, “I think you can.”

His hands played over her, solicitous fingertips sliding to the place they were joined. He pressed inside her, a low rhythmic movement, and his fingers were astonishingly gentle, almost delicate, as they stroked in time to the patient thrusts. Gasping, she arched to take him deeper, and deeper still.

Every time he pushed, his body rubbed hers in exactly the right way. She began to lift eagerly, anticipating each invasion, panting for it, sensation building on sensation until it culminated in a blinding swell of delight … and another … another … she felt him begin to withdraw and she moaned and twined her legs around his hips.

“Amelia,” he gasped, “no, let me … I’ve got to…” Shuddering, he spent helplessly inside her, while her body gripped and stroked the hard length of him.

Still locked together, Cam rolled Amelia to her side. He muttered something in Romany. Although she didn’t understand a word, it sounded highly complimentary. Limp with pleasure and exhaustion, Amelia rested her head on the solid curve of his biceps, her breath catching as she felt the occasional twitch and pulse of him in the depths of her body.

Cam reached for her left hand. Taking the signet ring between his fingers, he drew it off easily and gave it to her. “Here. Although I’d rather you left it on.”

Amelia’s mouth fell open. She examined her hand, then the ring, and hesitantly pushed it back on the same finger. It slid over her knuckle and back again with ease. “How did you do that?”