by Cara Elliott
Her bravado provoked a twitch of his lips. Setting the lock down, he slowly removed his coat. “Very well.” His cravat fell in a lazy, looping twist and hooked over the back of his chair. “Like you, I like work best when I am free of sartorial restraint.” Slowly, slowly, he rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing a bronzed pair of muscled forearms.
In response, Sophie unfastened the top two tiny buttons of her bodice and fanned her cheeks. “Is it me, or it is warm in here?”
His throaty chuckle set a lick of heat teasing between her legs. Clenching her knees together, she shifted her legs a fraction and gave her skirts a small shake.
“Pay attention, Sunbeam. The lesson is about to commence.” A dangerous glitter kindled in his eyes. “A lock is like a virtuous lady.” He circled a fingertip around the keyhole. “There is a special little opening which allows you to delve inside her and learn her intimate secrets, but to gain entrance requires a carefully choreographed seduction. She doesn’t yield to just anyone. You must have a skillful touch to coax her into opening up. One clumsy slip can ruin all your hopes.”
Sophie felt herself blush.
Cameron chuckled again, and her cheeks were aflame.
“Shall I go on?”
“I am all ears,” she said, trying to match his silky tone.
“Sorry, but I must ask you to use other bodily parts in this exercise.”
“I…” To her dismay, her voice seemed to catch in her throat.
“Your hand, Sophie.” A devilish grin. “Give me your hand, palm up if you please.”
His long, lithe fingers encircled her wrist. “Relax,” he murmured. “Tension makes it hard to perform delicate maneuvers.”
“You are certainly an expert in this subject,” she said a little testily. “Can we get on with it?”
“Alas, you are right. A lock, unlike a lady, needs to be opened as quickly as possible. Still, its seduction is about more than mechanics.” Drawing a slim shaft of steel from his boot, Cameron carefully positioned it in her hand. “It’s about feel.”
The steel was sleek and cool against her skin.
He guided the probe to the keyhole and dipped the tip inside. “Close your eyes, circle the metal, and tell me what you feel.”
She did as he asked. “It’s smooth…and hard.”
“Come, you can do better than that.”
Frowning, she tried again. “There are two ridges—no, three.”
“That’s better.” Cameron pushed the shaft in a little deeper. “What about now?”
“A series of indentations.”
“Press each one very gently. Do you feel any movement?”
Sophie was surprised at how subtle a shift the steel could detect. “I—I think so.”
“Excellent. These locks are tricky, for they have a few additional elements. But it’s good practice. Now, give a little jiggle here…”
For the next hour, Cameron led her through the basics of how a lock worked. It was difficult, demanding training, requiring great patience and concentration. And Sophie found it exhilarating. She liked solving problems, and here, her efforts were rewarded with a supremely satisfying snick when she got it right.
“Not bad, Sunbeam,” he said, once she could spring the catch all on her own. “I know a number of cracksmen in London would be happy to engage your services, should you ever decide to seek employment.”
“I daresay it would be far more interesting than serving as a governess to a pack of unruly children.” Sophie blotted her brow. “Admit it—I do have a knack for this.”
“Pride goeth before a fall.” Cameron took a pocketwatch from his coat pocket and snapped open the case. “It’s all very well to master a mechanism when there is no pressure to perform. But when it’s dark, and time is of the essence, the task becomes a good deal tougher.”
He propped up the timepiece against an earthenware jug and angled the white porcelain dial her way. It was a beautiful object, elegant in its simplicity and exquisitely made. Expensive, she guessed, noting the finely crafted engraving and rich patina of the two-tone gold.
“Where did you get that?” she asked.
“Geneva,” he replied casually. “The citizens there are renowned for their watchmaking skills.”
“It must have cost a fortune.”
His lips twitched. “The asking amount was indeed quite high. However I was able to negotiate my own price.”
The ticking seemed to change to a deeper, darker tone. Danger, danger.
Ignoring the warning, she pressed on. “What do your friends think of your illegal activities?”
Cameron shrugged. “As friends do, Connor and Gryff tolerate my faults. And while they don’t condone some of my more outrageous exploits, they do concede that I have some redeeming qualities. My skills have on occasion proved useful in helping Good triumph over Evil.”
Black and white. As shadows scudded across his angled face, Sophie studied his profile. How strange—even though he had changed in a myriad of ways over the years, he was still essentially the same. Cameron. Mercurial and mysterious.
Her opposite, and yet a kindred spirit.
Sensing her scrutiny, he turned abruptly and gave a quick tap to the watch’s crystal. “Back to our lesson, Sunbeam. Try to open the lock in, say, two minutes.”
Sophie watched several seconds tick away. “That’s an awfully short allotment.”
“You have no business attempting a real job until you can do it in half that time.”
Taking up the probe, she set to work. Tick, tick, tick. “Drat.” A rushed flick had jigged one of the wrong levers, freezing the gears in place.
Cameron looked a little smug as he released the catch on the inside of the lock. Too smug.
“Let’s see you do it in under a minute.”
He proceeded to do so with maddening ease. “Forty-one seconds, to be precise.”
“I’ll bet you can’t do it in thirty seconds,” retorted Sophie.
A pause. “How much?”
The butcher’s bill was due on the morrow…Reluctantly, she shook her head. “I’m not plump in the pocket. I can’t wager money.”
“Fine.” He regarded her with a lazy, lidded gaze. “I’ll accept a different forfeit.”
“Like what? I left all of the sultana muffins with Neddy Wadsworth, and I doubt that you would care for hairpins.”
“You may keep the pins,” agreed Cameron. “I’ll take an item of clothing instead. I get to choose.”
“You are incorrigible,” she exclaimed.
“Impossibly so,” he drawled. “Dangerously so.” He shifted slightly, a subtle move, and yet Sophie was intimately aware of the ripple of masculine muscle, the powerful primal grace.
Dangerous, indeed.
“That’s enough of a foray to the dark side of propriety for today. You are smart to refuse the wager.” His expression didn’t alter, but she could sense that his mood had suddenly changed again, like quicksilver presaging a coming storm. She hated it when he retreated into himself, leaving only the shell of a stranger.
“Return to the light, Sunbeam,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s too risky for you to stay here with me.”
Sophie watched the ornate steel hands of the pocketwatch sweep through another moment. “On second thought, I’ll accept your terms.”
I ought to make her go. Cameron sucked in a shallow breath. Make her flee before she’s drawn deeper into my netherworld of darkness and demons. The risks were too great. It wasn’t just the physical threat, though God knows that was terrifying enough. Worse was the knowledge that to let her be part of his shadowy life was to draw her closer to the abyss of ruin. He still couldn’t offer her a respectable life, so it was wrong to relive their youthful camaraderie, when together they laughed in the face of any danger.
His heart shuddered against his ribs. Cameron reached across the table. The pocketwatch was mere inches away. Click the case shut and the game was over.
But I am an evil
devil, who cares for naught but my own selfish desires.
His fingers pinched…and picked up the probe.
“Tell me when to start,” he said, turning a deaf ear to the chiding voices in the back of his head.
“Now,” called Sophie, her eyes intent on the dial.
Tick. The catch popped open.
“Drat.”
“The higher the stakes, the faster my fingers,” he murmured, savoring the sudden flush of color that suffused her flesh. A soft pink-gold, the exact shade of a ripe, sun-warmed peach. “Hmmm, let me consider the choices. What item should I pick? A stocking, perhaps?”
She shot a reproachful look at the pocketwatch.
“A gentleman would let you off lightly. The Devil, however, might choose your dress.”
The pulsepoint on her throat gave a little jump. “You wouldn’t.”
“That,” drawled Cameron, “is exactly the wrong tumbler to press when playing with man who does not wear a stitch of honor.” He gave a flick of his arm, which was bare to the elbow. “Off with the gown. Unless, of course, you wish to renege on the bet.”
“And concede that at heart, I’m a craven coward?” Sophie scowled. “Ha! Let the Devil have his due.”
A few hurried tugs released the tabs at her shoulders. A shrug, a wiggle, and the garment slithered over her head and fell to the floor, forming a soft pool of muslin at the foot of her chair.
“There.” A prickling of gooseflesh pebbled her arms as the air stirred and tickled against skin. “In gambling, a loser is always allowed a chance to recoup his losses, correct?”
Turn away from temptation. “Yes,” he replied. “But most often the sensible decision is to cut your losses and quit.”
“If I wished to be sensible, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place,” retorted Sophie. “Twenty-five. You have twenty-five seconds. If you fail, you lose a piece of clothing.”
“I accept—with one small alteration. As the previous winner, I reserve the right to decide which garment to shed.”
“As you wish.”
At her signal, Cameron once again attacked the lock.
“Oh, fie!” she cried, watching him fumble away the seconds. “You failed on purpose!”
“I do have a shred of decency left,” he replied, removing his shirt. “I couldn’t allow you to sit there and shiver on your own.”
Sophie swallowed hard, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at his chest. “I—I’ve seen Lord Elgin’s marbles, but somehow a man’s naked torso looks different in the flesh.”
“Everything—and I mean everything—about them is smaller, for one thing,” he said slowly.
Her face flamed.
“They are pretty, in a very abstract way,” went on Cameron. “However, something gets lost in translation from flesh to stone.”
“A different language completely,” she agreed with a worldly nod. But a tiny tremor inflected her voice. Unlike the smooth, solid Greek sculptures, her composure appeared on the verge of cracking into a thousand tiny shards.
“Shall we call it a draw?” The fire had now reached her eyes, provoking his deliberately risqué comment. “Another loss and you’ll lose your shift,” went on Cameron. “Clad only in a tissue-thin corset, your lovely nipples might tighten and pucker from the cold.”
“Without your breeches, your intimate parts might also suffer shrinkage,” countered Sophie.
Cameron let out a bark of laughter. “How do you know such shocking details about male anatomy?”
“You snuck a swim in the sea when you were twelve, and left me to hold your clothes.”
He had forgotten about that long-ago interlude until now. But then, they had shared many adventures over the years. “Good God, how extremely embarrassing.”
“Extremely.”
Her grin, sparkling with suppressed mirth, suddenly silenced the warning voices in his head. “So, I take it you wish to go another round?”
She nodded.
“Let’s make it a little more interesting.” He pulled a different tool from his boot. “You’ll get a second try at one minute with the thin probe. But I shall have to work with a hook, which is designed for a different type of mechanism. That should even the odds.”
“Do you always carry such an interesting assortment of implements in your footwear?” asked Sophie.
“It’s best to be prepared for the unexpected. So yes, I always have a number of intriguing items hidden within my clothing.”
“Interesting.” Her gaze lingered on his leg for a moment, and then she leaned forward to readjust the pocketwatch, giving him a tantalizing peek at her rounded breasts and valley between them. It was dark and inviting—just wide enough for a tongue to dip in and taste a trace of salt and spice.
A strange, sweet music began echoing in his ears. Sophie the Siren. Luring a man to break himself on the rocks of forbidden desire.
Don’t. Cameron closed his eyes for an instant. Don’t go there. She is a Sunbeam and I am the Devil’s own Darkness—a bastard in the eyes of the world, which was the only truth that mattered.
He hadn’t been able to offer her a decent life in the past. And after ten years, the only thing that had changed was now he was even more dangerous, more disreputable. Sophie deserved better. He knew that. Oh, yes, he knew that.
“Are we ready?” she asked.
“But of course.” Shutting his ears to the whisper of his conscience, he pressed his palms together. “In this round we will simplify the rules. If you open the lock in the allotted time, you are the winner and get to name the article of clothing that I must forfeit. Fail, and it is the other way around.”
“Perhaps I’ll ask for your snake when I win,” she murmured. Her gaze slid to the small gold hoop dangling from his earlobe. It was, in fact, a tiny hooded cobra holding its tail in its mouth.
What goes around comes around?
“Another word of warning, Sophie. Don’t make assumptions or think ahead. Concentrate on naught but the present moment when you are in the midst of a perilous job. Otherwise you are apt to make mental mistakes.”
Chapter Twelve
No mistakes. Concentration is key.” Sophie rubbed her hands together. “I vow, this time I shall do better.” Closing her eyes for an instant, she imagined that the blue-black steel lock was more than a lifeless mechanism, and that if she wielded her touch skillfully enough, she could release more than a clever array of levers and gears.
“Time,” called Cameron.
The probe seemed to move of its own accord. Trust. She decided to let go of conscious thought and to trust her instincts.
“Well, well, well.” He sounded a little surprised as the lock signaled its surrender just before the final seconds ticked away.
“A boot,” she announced.
“A lowly boot?”
“I plan on fine-tuning my timing,” she replied. “And I don’t want your most delicate parts to take a chill.”
“Careful, Sunbeam. Remember what I told you about overconfidence,” said Cameron over the thud of leather hitting the earthen floor. “The gods love nothing better than to humble a mortal who shows hubris.” He took up the hook. “Twenty-five seconds?”
“Yes,” replied Sophie, sure that in half a minute all of his toes would be clad in naught but stockings. The allotted time was impossible.
Snick, snick, SNICK.
The rapidfire metallic sounds proved her woefully wrong.
“Ha! Now we shall see who will be shivering.”
“Drat.” She made a face. “Last time, it looked as if you were working as fast as you could.”
“It’s wise to hide both your weaknesses and your strengths, Sophie. It keeps an opponent off-balance and always guessing.”
“A painful lesson to learn,” she responded, obeying his hand signal to strip off her shift.
Gooseflesh pebbled her arms as the lawn cotton grazed against her skin. It wasn’t, however, the tickle of the fabric or the breeze that stirred the r
eaction. His lidded gaze was like a physical caress, stroking along the ridge of her collarbones before dipping down in a lazy, lingering path to her half-bared breasts.
The corset lacing suddenly seemed to tighten, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“Painful, indeed.” Silent laughter quivered at the corners of his mouth. “I imagine that the chair’s seat is prickly with splinters that may prove deucedly uncomfortable on a naked bum.”
Sophie glanced down at her drawers, which offered scant protection from rough planks or roving eyes. “I shall just have to see that I don’t lose.”
“That may delay the inevitable,” said Cameron. “But you don’t control your own destiny. I have only to win…” He paused to carefully count what little she had left on. “…six times and you will be entirely naked.”
A shiver collided with a curl of heat licking up from her core.
“Twenty-five times six equals one hundred and fifty seconds—exactly two-and-a-half minutes.” A snap of his fingers made her jump. “It will be gone just like that.”
“That’s assuming you won’t make a careless slip,” she said. “You have little left to sacrifice, and if I take away all your garments first, the game will be over.”
Cameron leaned across the table, the rippling sunlight making his smoothly sculpted muscles glow like burnished bronze. “Actually, we never defined what would bring play to an end. We have been making up the rules as we go along.”
A cat-like stretch and he touched the hook to the top row of her corset’s lacing. “The lock has become awfully familiar. What if I changed the challenge to a new puzzle?”
His teasing smile belied the coiled tension of his body. The air between them crackled with temptation.
Sophie had only to say no in a myriad of subtle ways—pull back, shake her head, whisper a word. She had done it before, choosing rules over recklessness. At the time, it had been the right decision, no matter how much it had hurt. They had both been too young, and her family had been too much in need of her.
And now?
A flick of her lashes and he would ride off—perhaps forever—leaving her to face yet another interminable stretch of gray days. A lifetime leached of all color and fire.
