Too Dangerous to Desire (9 page)

“I appreciate the sentiment, Georgie, but you are trying to fabricate an enchanted fairytale out of very ordinary cloth. Neither Cameron nor I are fanciful storybook heroes. We are flesh-and-blood people who must do our best to navigate the ups and down of everyday life.”

The teasing light in her sister’s eye softened to a more serious hue. “You deserve a happily ever after.”

Clearing her throat, Sophie took a moment to compose her emotions. “I am so glad that you have found your perfect Prince, my dear. But just because I don’t have white tigers or white knights in my life doesn’t mean that I won’t be happy. I have you and Pen.”

“I wish—”

“If wishes were pennies, we would all be rich as Croesus.” She made a face. “Now go to bed, Georgie. And in the morning, please forget about fairytales. On the journey home, let us spin plans for your real-life wedding. There are flowers to choose, patterns to peruse, guest lists to draw up, and a myriad of other details to decide.”

Smothering a yawn, Georgiana slid down from her perch. “I suppose you are right.”

“Of course I’m right. Age and wisdom go hand in hand.”

“Good night,” said her sister as she turned for the door. Under her breath she added, “But if you think that I shall forget about fairytales, you are sadly mistaken. It’s not necessary to use ink and paper to write a happy ending. If one is creative, why, anything can happen.”

A
gusty breeze, sharp with the salt-edged chill of the nearby sea, tugged at the collar of Cameron’s riding coat, stirring a prickling of unease. Reining his horse to a halt, he slanted a long look around the small clearing and then slowly dismounted.

The long grass swooshed against his boots as he approached the small stone hut.
Was its whisper a warning that walking back into the past was a grave mistake?

“A grave mistake,” he said aloud, the sudden sound startling a grouse from the tangled gorse.

Wings whirred—
fly, fly away!

“Coward,” he muttered. “I’m naught but a callow, craven coward if I can’t confront my youthful demons and kick them to Hades.”

The cackle of a crow was not the most reassuring of answers.

Stepping over a patch of thorns, Cameron grasped the rusty latch and gave it a shove. Hinges groaning, the weathered door swung open.

Dust motes danced in the hazy light. Poking his head inside, he saw that the lone window still had most of its panes intact, though the cracks in the glass threw strange, shifting patterns on the far wall. The air was heavy with neglect—and old memories. A remote gamekeeper’s shelter, the place had already been abandoned for years when he had stumbled upon it as a boy. It had become his refuge, his sanctuary when he needed to escape and think.

But clearly, I made a hash of thinking back then
, he thought wryly, looking around at the earthen floor, and the few sticks of furniture. He drew a finger through the layers of sooty specks covering the small table
. I may be older, but God only knows if I’ve become any wiser.

He stood very still, soaking in the silence for a moment longer, before turning abruptly and hurrying back out into the sunlight.

Dark and light—a fitting metaphor for his own conflicted existence.

After stabling his horse in the outer shed, Cameron carried his supplies into the hut and set to making the place habitable. He didn’t intend to be staying for long, but given the unexpected twists that his life had taken lately, it was best to be prepared.

Shaking the dust from his caped coat, he hung it on a peg and quickly changed into the roughspun country garb he had brought in his satchel. In the past, Sophie had been wont to walk through the rugged hills at this time of the day, taking an hour or two of solitary respite from the duties of caring for her family. Did she still like to wander the same footpaths?

Or had she chosen a new direction?

He would soon find out. Following a narrow footpath up through the wind-carved rocks, he climbed to the crest of the knoll and surveyed the surroundings.

Sloping meadows, the grasses shimmering gold and green in the afternoon light, gave way to darker copses of distant trees. Two hawks floated high overhead, black specks against the scudding white clouds. A fox darted out from its den and disappeared in the tall fescue. A moment later, Cameron spotted a figure coming around a turn in the path.

He smiled. The face was still too far away to see clearly, but he recognized that stride, that tilt of the shoulders in an instant.

“Sophie,” he whispered.
Always a beacon of light in the gloom.

Scrambling over the loose stones, Cameron dropped down to the path. “Sophie,” he called in a louder voice.

Her head jerked up and she stumbled, oversetting the herb basket in her hand.

“Sorry to startle you.” He leaned down and gathered up the long-stemmed bulbs of wild garlic.

“C-Cameron,” she stammered, still a little off-balance.

Her troubled expression betrayed more than a momentary surprise at his appearance. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

She didn’t answer right away.

Rising, he took a steadying grip on her arm. “Have you received some new threat from Dudley?”

“Yes,” conceded Sophie after another long moment. “A letter arrived this morning. If I don’t give him what he wants by the local Hunt Ball, he and his friend Mr. Morton will make an announcement there, in front of Anthony and his parents, of my father’s embezzlement scheme. With the two of them corroborating the facts, my family will be ruined, and Georgiana’s happiness will be destroyed.” She looked down at her dust-covered half boots. “I can’t give him what he is asking for.”

“When is the ball?” asked Cameron.

Sophie named a date.

“That gives us a month to put an end to these machinations,” he mused. “We must end their power over you once and for all.”

Hope chased the look of fear from her face, but only for a brief instant. “I—I don’t see how.”

“That’s why you need a ruthless rogue like me to help,” he replied. “Tell me again what they want.”

“An old church document,” she replied slowly. “Which may or may not even exist. I know nothing about it, and Papa is certainly in no condition to remember.”

“What document?” demanded Cameron.

Sophie shook her head, refusing to meet his gaze. “Oh, please. Do not ask me that. What matters is that I cannot prove we don’t have it.”

Seeing her agitation, he decided not to press her for the moment. “Then it’s a good thing that I’ve come along because it’s time to change tactics and go on the attack.”

His words stirred a new swirl of misgiving in her eyes. “Speaking of which, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Our recent encounter got me to thinking that it was time to revisit the scene of my rebellious youth.”

The remark, though said lightly, only deepened her dismay. “You shouldn’t have come here. It’s too dangerous.” She drew in a quick, uneasy breath. “Lord Wolcott still wields enormous power in this shire, and as we discussed, he won’t have forgotten his grudge. If you are spotted, he’ll have you arrested.”

How like Sophie, thought Cameron, to be so protective of others when she herself was in peril.

“First of all, Sunbeam…” The old endearment sent a spasm of emotion skittering across her face. “…my sources assure me that Wolcott is leaving tomorrow morning for a pleasure trip on his yacht. Secondly, I am very skilled at eluding detection. Trust me, the marquess won’t be aware of my presence here in Norfolk unless I want him to know of it.”

She snagged an errant strand of hair from her cheek and carefully tucked it behind her ear. “But why take the risk?”

“Because.” There were a myriad of reasons, a myriad of longings. “Because you need me.”
And against all reason I need you.

Sunlight beaded on her downcast lashes, glistening like tiny drops of amber honey.

“Because,” Cameron added, “you know that risk seems to kindle a strange spark in my blood. I can’t help it—fire boils and bubbles through my veins, setting off all sorts of reckless urges.”

Sophie shivered as he skimmed a palm along the line of her jaw.

“Like this one.” Tipping up her chin, he kissed her.

Her lips trembled beneath his mouth, and then parted with a ragged moan. For a dizzying instant her need seemed as searing as his own.

But all too swiftly, the sweetness was gone.

“Dear God.” She broke free from his embrace. “We must be careful. You cannot be spotted.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he rasped. “But you are right about being careful. I mustn’t savage your reputation.”

She looked away quickly, masking her reaction with a flick of her shawl. Smoothing out the folds, she replied, “I can’t help but worry, when you take such awful chances, Cam. Where are you lodging? The inns along the shore road are not safe. Someone is bound to recognize you.”

“I’ve altered a great deal over the last ten years, Sophie. And while many of the changes are not for the better, my physical appearance now bears little resemblance to the skinny, smooth-faced stripling who absconded with Wolcott’s money box.”

That finally drew a tiny smile. “True. You’ve grown at least eight inches in height and have more sculpted muscle than Lord Elgin’s Greek statues at the British Museum.” Her brows drew together. “Still, it’s asking for trouble.”

“Put your mind at ease on that,” said Cameron. “I’ve settled into the old stone gamekeeper’s hut where we used to meet and spin fanciful dreams about the future.”

A pink-tinged flush stole over her cheeks.

Cameron couldn’t hold back a low chuckle. “As I recall, we also indulged in some terribly wicked behavior there. Do you remember the time I nipped a bottle of brandy from Wolcott’s garden party?”

“Oh, please!” Sophie pulled a face. “You and your devilish ideas. I was sick as a dog the next day.”

“I was an awful little fiend,” agreed Cameron. His laughter died away. “However, I intend to make it up to you now.”

“How—”

“Don’t ask me that right now,” he cut in, touching a finger to her lips. “I’ve an idea or two. But before I say anything more, I wish to have a look around in Wolcott’s study.”

A hiss of breath. “You mean to break into Wolcott Manor?”

“My dear Sunbeam, I’m never clumsy enough to
break
anything. Indeed, my skills at gaining access to a place, no matter how well guarded, are rather well honed.”

“But since you left, the marquess has installed the latest puzzle locks from Prussia.”

“Pffft.” Cameron snapped his fingers.

“The servants—”

“Sleep like logs,” he finished. “Besides, I never make a sound.”

Sophie refused to give up. “There’s a dog—a huge, hairy mastiff that prowls the grounds at night.”

“A dog?” Cameron tapped at his chin. “Hmmm. I may have to purchase a vial of laudanum to dose a ball of chopped meat.”

“No, I won’t let you drug poor Rufus. He’s really quite sweet when you get to know him.” She set a hand on her hip. The wind had loosened her hair, and with her bright curls dancing in martial splendor around her scowling face, she was the spitting image of Boadicea, the mythical Warrior Queen. In that she hadn’t changed. Always fighting to protect others, leaving herself unguarded.

“He won’t bark at me, so I had better come with you.”

“Sophie, I applaud your spirit, but I won’t allow you to take that risk. I’ve a great deal of experience in this sort of thing, and you do not.”

“On the contrary, I’ve trained Rufus to be docile as a dormouse around me, which was no small feat. He eats out of the palm of my hand, so I could be a big help in keeping him quiet.” A pause. “He has a very loud bark.”

Loath as he was to admit it, she had a good argument.
But not quite good enough.
Even hardbitten scoundrels had certain moral scruples.

“Look, you may be able to silence the shaggy beast, but it would be reckless of me to allow you anywhere near the manor.”

“And why is that? Because it might be
dangerous
?” she said with more than a tinge of sarcasm.

“Yes,” he replied, trying not to feel like a hypocrite. How the devil had she managed to put him on the defensive?

“As I recall, I faced more than my share of dangers with you in the past, and never quailed. Remember Squire Allen’s gun room? And Mr. Kensington’s painted pony?”

“Child’s play,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“Why, you odious, insufferable man!” Fire sparked in her eyes. “Don’t talk to me in that condescending way, as if I were still a ink-smudged schoolgirl. You have grown out of adolescence, and so have I.”

Bloody hell—since when had Sunbeam learned to turn her light into such a thunderbolt? Cameron quickly regrouped and tried another argument. “Be reasonable, Sophie. You don’t know the first thing about manipulating locks or scaling walls.”

Her mouth quirked up at the corners. “So teach me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“So teach me,” repeated Sophie. “Nowadays, I am tired of feeling that I have no control over my own destiny. In the past, I wasn’t afraid to take risks—and you have to admit that I was good at it.”

“These aren’t youthful pranks anymore, Sophie.”

“As if I don’t know that,” she retorted. “It’s me who is being threatened by a powerful enemy. I want to learn how to fight back.”

“A frightening thought,” quipped Cameron. “One angry female is more terrifying than a horde of whirling, knife-wielding dervishes.”

The shock of seeing him had her nerves tied in a tangle, and his tone tugged the knots tighter. To her, this wasn’t remotely amusing. “Don’t you
dare
laugh at me, Cameron Daggett!” she exclaimed.

His lips thinned, his gaze shuttered.

“It is unfair of you to make light of my wish to be a little bold, a little daring. Oh yes, I know you think I’ve become a staid, cautious mouse, too timid to throw caution to the wind.”

“Sophie—”

“Let me finish!” she demanded, feeling her eyes suddenly prickle with hot anger. “But unlike you, I wasn’t free to follow my own heart. That does not mean I have no backbone.”

“Sophie.” She tried to dodge his grab, but Cameron was too quick. Catching her up in his arms, he crushed her to his chest with a fierce hug. The heat of his body through the rough wool sent daggerpoints of fire dancing willy-nilly across her flesh.

“I’m all too aware that you have a backbone, Sunbeam.” His fingers slowly teased down the length of her spine. “Along with a number of other equally impressive body parts,” he whispered as he gave a little nibble to the sensitive shell of her ear.

“You—you are trying to distract me,” protested Sophie, trying to keep her ire from melting into a very different emotion. He had always had a maddening, mercurial effect on the sensible part of her mind. At times, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

“Ah, but of course,” drawled Cameron. “I’ve told you before that I’m an unscrupulous rogue who will use all manner of underhanded tricks to get what I want.”

“Yes, I consider myself forewarned.” Still, it took a great deal of mental discipline to shake off the delightful sensations tickling down her neck. “Getting back to the dog…”

“Weren’t we just discussing the Hellhound?”

A little shove sent him reeling back a step. “Be serious, Cam. I refuse to be patted on the head as if I’m naught but a toy spaniel and sent off to curl up on a spot by the hearth.” Sophie forced herself to focus on the tiny turquoise stud in his earlobe, rather than the subtle shades of green rippling in his eyes. “I demand to be part of whatever you have planned. I won’t be a hindrance.”