by Cara Elliott
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.”
No answer.
Her heart thumped against her ribs, once, twice, three times in succession, forcing her to draw a shallow breath. More silence, and disappointment hit again, leaving her feeling a little bruised.
Rejection, however oblique, hurt like the devil.
Fisting her hands, Sophie fought to compose her conflicting feelings. On one hand, she wished to hit back. A foolish notion, of course. It would be like velvet striking against stone. And yet…
“Very well.”
At first, she thought it might only have been a whisper of the wind, but he said it again, louder, and with more force.
“Very well, if you truly wish to come along, I have no right to say no. However, I ask that you think long and hard about your final decision. Make no mistake—there are grave risks involved, and I cannot answer for the consequences.”
Sophie nodded, not trusting her voice.
“No matter how carefully plans like these are made, they can—and do—often go awry,” he went on.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Silence shivered between them, but she stood firm.
“There will be rules,” he warned. “And the one promise I demand from you is that you’ll obey them without question.”
“You hate rules,” she pointed out.
“Not the ones that ensure survival.” Cameron ran a hand through his windsnarled hair, looking for a brief instant like the hunted instead of the hunter. And then his gaze hardened, turning impenetrable as the weathered granite around them. “Yes, I take chances, but not foolhardy ones. There are times when it’s best to cut my losses and run.”
This was becoming more and more intriguing. “All this sounds very professional on your part. Do you do this sort of thing often?”
“Taking chances?” Distraction, again. He did it well.
“No, stealing into private places. Searching for secrets while leaving no trace of yourself.”
“Often enough that it’s become second nature,” Cameron answered. “And the more closely guarded the place, the more of an interesting challenge it is. Not long ago, I heard through my informants in the docklands that there was an undergovernor of the East India Company who was falsifying records on the diamond shipments coming from Golconda. I also learned—never mind how—that he was using a small building on a side street east of St. Paul’s as a private office for his side business. So I slipped inside one night during a heavy rain, knowing the Sikh guards were unused to the sounds of a London storm. From his papers I discovered the location of the warehouse where he was hiding his ill-gotten gains until a gem merchant from Antwerp arrived buy them.” He smiled. “I confess, there is a rather sweet satisfaction in outwitting another thief.”
Intrigued, she asked, “What are some other of your exploits?”
“You don’t want to know every sordid detail about my life, Sunbeam. There are dark crevasses there where even your light cannot penetrate.”
“Yes, I do.” I want to wrap myself in the knowing, rubbing its hard and soft textures over every inch of my skin. “I want to know everything.”
“Not now,” he growled. “There are things I must do to get ready for the visit to Wolcott’s inner sanctum.”
“Like what?” pressed Sophie.
“Supplies, reconnaissance,” answered Cameron after a long moment. “All the little things that tilt the odds in my favor.”
The boy she remembered had worn his passions—every hurt, every triumph, every defiance—writ plain on his face.
This man had learned wariness. It was impossible to know what he was really thinking.
“You may be very good at these games, Cam, but you may bet on one thing,” she said slowly. “If you change your plans and go on without me, I shall make a number of new holes in your flesh—and they won’t be located in your earlobe.”
His gaze danced and darted around hers, refusing to reveal more than a flicker of beautiful green. “You don’t trust me?”
She lifted a brow. “Should I?”
At that, he gave a sardonic laugh, but his eyes, however evasive, betrayed its lie. Cameron Daggett might be a master of manipulation, but some things he could not hide. “No, not for an instant. That way, you won’t be disappointed.” He shifted his stance. “Again.”
The wind rose in a sudden gust, its low, keening whistle echoing off the stones.
“Let’s just be sure we understand each other, Sophie,” he added, his voice almost too low to be heard.
I have always understood you, Cam. More than you think.
“As I said before, Sophie, I have my own selfish reasons for pursuing these men, so don’t make the mistake of thinking me motivated purely by noble altruism.”
“You may have a clear conscience on that,” she replied. “You’ve taken great pains to disabuse me of any girlish illusions.”
He appeared to be studying the lone hawk floating high in the sky. A hunter, spinning its predatory circles. Always alert, always watching.
“But as I said, I’m not a girl any longer, so the terms of your offer are perfectly acceptable.” She reached down for her herb basket. It had fallen and now lay on the hardscrabble ground, its greenery powdered with a gritty dust. “Where shall we meet? And when?”
Cameron crouched down and began helping her gather up the herbs. “At the north gate of the gardens, the one by the orchards.” He had very deft hands, with long, tapered fingers that skimmed over the pebbles with a lithe grace. Held by some shadowy spell, her gaze remained mesmerized by his movements. Gentle, caring—in contrast to his jaded words.
