Capturing the Heart of a Cameron (Farthingale Series Novellas)

by Meara Platt

  It wasn’t a long ride to Eloise’s townhouse, and before Evie knew it, George had her settled on the yellow silk settee in the parlor, her slipper off and foot raised. He lifted her gown to her mid-calf, just far enough to expose her ankle to his view and make certain there was no further damage just above it. His fingers felt nice against her skin. “Not as bad as I feared. Give it a good soak several times a day and keep off it until the swelling subsides. I’ll run home to fetch the ointment for your cheek.”

  She was left alone, a fire glowing in the hearth as her only distraction. Eloise had gone upstairs with her maid to ready Evie’s bedclothes and to change out of her own gown. The poor woman was quite spent and eager for bed.

  Evie was tired, too. Another maid skittered in and wordlessly set out clean cloths and a basin of water on the table beside her. As soon as the young woman left the room, she kicked off her other dancing slipper and unfastened the clasp of her cape to toss the cape aside. The parlor was now comfortably warm, and in any event, George would need to examine her arms before applying the ointment. She raised her gown to her knees so she could better view her feet. One ankle was purple and twice the size of the other. She raised her gown to her thighs in order to compare her legs.

  “Nice view,” George said, leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He had removed his jacket and rolled up the elegant sleeves of his shirt, no doubt for ease of working on his patient. The fire cast a warm glow about the room, the amber heat reflecting in his usually cool blue eyes and making them appear to smolder.

  She scrambled to cover her legs. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  He grinned. “Didn’t think I needed to be announced.”

  She blushed as he approached and drew up a chair beside her. “I was looking at my legs,” she explained, her heart beginning to race as he settled deliciously close to her hip.

  He chuckled. “So was I.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. Finally, she sighed. “Are you teasing me again?”

  “Can’t help it. You make it too easy, Evie.” He grabbed a cloth and dipped it into the water basin. After squeezing out the excess moisture, he leaned ever closer and put one hand behind her shoulders in order to draw her forward. “You have a few scratches on your neck as well. You certainly took a dive into that rosebush.”

  “One of my many talents.”

  He quickly cleaned the cut at her cheek and then eased her forward again so that her head almost lay against his shoulder. She felt his warm breath against her ear and closed her eyes as his fingers grazed the nape of her neck. He was only cleaning the little cuts and scratches, but she felt as though he were caressing her body.

  She loved his touch, so gentle and confident. Her body responded to him with delicious abandon. An intense heat washed over her, like a slow, gentle wave that went on and on and carried her on its crest. Her skin began to tingle and her breasts swelled in anticipation of a touch that would never come. But he’d touched her breasts when pulling out the thorns and the memory of his hands upon them was shattering her composure.

  She wanted more of him.

  She wanted all of him.

  “I’ll do your shoulders next.” His mouth felt soft as he spoke against her hair.

  He cleaned them off, then dabbed ointment on the tip of his finger and began to slowly run it across her cheek, her neck and shoulders, and finally her collarbone, his touch so exquisitely masculine she felt as though he were making love to her with each stroke. Of course, she knew it was impossible. But the intense heat she felt wherever he’d touched her was quite real.

  He cleared his throat. “I know you have other scratches that I… er, can’t reach… but when you go upstairs and remove your gown, I want you to look in the mirror and apply a little ointment to all those spots as well.”

  She nodded.

  The muscles of his broad shoulders strained against the chair’s back as he eased away from her. “I’ll carry you upstairs whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m not ready yet, George.” She gazed at him, her eyes wide with fear for the admission she was about to make. But she had to be honest with him. She couldn’t hide her feelings any longer, not after the way he’d touched her and made her tingle, made her ache to be in his arms forever. “I have a confession to make. It’s about the first kiss.”

  She didn’t need to look in a mirror to know her face was once again a hot, crimson blush.

  “Ah, that kiss.” He seemed to tense in response to her words, but he’d asked her about it earlier and she hadn’t given him a proper answer. He sighed, as though relenting. “Go on.”

  She couldn’t, at first. The air between them seemed to crackle. The silence became unbearable. “You were supposed to be that kiss. My first. I chose you. I wanted it to be you.” She spoke in whisper, half hoping he wouldn’t hear.

  Of course, he had heard every word.

  His mouth was agape, but he couldn’t seem to form a response.

  So Evie continued, knowing she was skipping down a path that could only lead to her humiliation. It was a familiar path for her. She had endured her grandfather’s threats and snubs for most of her life. Despite it all, she loved the old scoundrel. In his own demanding and overbearing way, he loved her. But the love she felt for George was entirely different. George always made her feel valued, important. Of course, it was his nature. He was kind to everyone.

  Was he frantically searching his brain for a suitable reply? One that didn’t start with “Evie, have you lost your senses?”

  She sighed and pressed on. Now that she’d started down the path, no point in turning back. “There, I’ve admitted it. Please say something, George.”

  The silence lingered for what seemed an eternity. Finally, he let out a breath and groaned. “I suspected as much when I found you flailing in the rosebush. But who actually chose me? You? Or my nieces?”

  “I did,” she insisted, her voice once more a whisper as she waited for him to make a polite excuse and leave. Tomorrow he would send around a note explaining why their friendship had to end. Perhaps he’d admonish her to choose more wisely next time, to find someone who liked her and wouldn’t recoil at the thought of being her first kiss. She cleared her throat. “I wanted it to be you. No one forced me, except maybe you.”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “Me? How did I do that?”

  She glanced down and spoke into her hands, something she tended to do whenever she was upset or humiliated. Tonight she was both. “By simply being you. By being the most wonderful man I know. It isn’t simply your good looks or your intelligence. Although you are exceptionally brilliant and handsome, but I suppose many women have told you that. No doubt Lady Mowbry moaned it into your ear earlier this evening.”

  He sighed.

  “Right, she’s none of my business. I’m sorry I mentioned her. The point is, I love the way you make me feel inside. The way you listen to me and encourage me. I’m a better person when I’m with you. I’m happy when I’m with you.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That’s why you’re the only man with whom I could ever share my first kiss. You’re the only one who could ever make it special, because you are so special to me.”

  He shifted uncomfortably.

  “Oh,” she said, afraid he’d get up and walk away… run away as fast as his strong legs would carry him, “and I suppose it is also important to mention that I’m hopelessly in love with you. Completely, utterly, and ridiculously in love. With you.”

  A log burning in the fireplace crackled and split, creating a burst of flame as it fell deeper into the fire. A small plume of smoke wafted across the room and tickled her nostrils. George’s gaze was fixed on her, his expression unreadable. He slowly leaned forward and frowned. “That’s quite a confession, Evie.”

  “I know. And I suppose I should add that I love the feel of your hands on my body. It was worth tumbling head first into that rosebush. And al
most slipping on the ice the other day. Despite the snow and the winter wind, I didn’t feel at all cold once you wrapped your arms around me. In truth, I couldn’t have felt hotter. There, I think I’ve said everything on my mind. No doubt, I’ve said too much. I’m sorry, I simply couldn’t hold back any longer. I’ve felt this way for quite some time.”

  He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I suppose it’s my turn now.”

  She nodded. “Only please be gentle when you let me down.”

  Oh, why did she spill her heart to him? She could have just thanked him for rescuing her from that evil rosebush.

  “You’ve been honest with me, so I suppose it’s only fair that I be honest with you.”

  She nodded, clasping her hands on the edge of the settee to still their trembling. “But gentle,” she reminded him.

  “Of course.” He let out a long, pained breath. “I don’t believe this. You can have any man you want.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “My so-called suitors are lured by my dowry and nothing more. You’re the only one who sees me for who I truly am. Warts and all.”

  He regarded her in a soft way that made her heart beat a little faster. “You’re beautiful, Evie. Not a single wart on you. Anyone who doesn’t see just how lovely you are is an idiot. Though you are a bit clumsy.”

  “Only with you. Always with you. I lose my composure whenever you appear. My heart beats too fast. My legs turn to pudding. Chocolate pudding, to be precise.”

  He grinned. “The best kind.”

  “Yes, I think so. The very best kind. My mouth always forgets to close when I’m around you. I gape and gawk and prattle on and on, just as I’m doing now. I don’t know how I’ll respond when you kiss me… if you kiss me. I hope you will.”

  She felt her heart squeeze tight when he said nothing in response.

  His grin faded and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “You have one curl that always seems to dangle over your forehead and drives me insane.”

  “Yes, it does the same to me.”

  He shifted closer. “You’re a lady, the granddaughter of a duke, which puts you above my station.” He halted her protest with the quirk of his eyebrow. “But you’re also kind and caring. You take your responsibilities seriously. At times, too seriously.”

  Was he thinking of her project with the Royal Society? She loved working in the antiquities department.

  “You have the most beautiful eyes in creation, not to mention the best pair of legs ever to exist on a woman.”

  Her heartbeat quickened once more. He definitely was not referring to antiquities now.

  “Your body is so sinfully delectable, it ought to be outlawed in every shire,” he said, his voice suddenly husky as he put his arms around her and surprised her by drawing her onto his lap.

  She gasped. “Does this mean you’re going to kiss me?”

  “Yes, quite thoroughly.”

  “I should hope so.” She wasn’t certain how a thorough kiss would feel, but she imagined it would feel very nice. He was eyeing her as though he also intended to explore every inch of her body. She had no intention of stopping him. “George, I—”

  “Stop talking, Evie.” He lowered his lips to hers, his mouth warm and possessive as he claimed her. She yielded to him, surrendering as he plundered and teased with his tongue, as he conquered her heart and revealed the emptiness in his own heart. Did he ache for her? Or would any woman do?

  It didn’t seem important at the moment.

  He was kissing her and she kissed him back with wanton abandon. It was the only way she could ever be with him. Her heart had needed him for so long and now he was here, holding her. Kissing her. Wanting her. She felt his arousal against her hip.

  She slid her bottom against it.

  He almost fell off the chair.

  “Lord, Evie!” he said with a moaning laugh, breaking off the kiss and seeming to struggle for breath as each now came in a ragged spurt.

  She felt bereft. Why hadn’t she just kept still? But no, she had to rub against him there. She had no idea that male organ was so sensitive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t, sweetheart.”

  She trembled at the sound of that endearment from his lips. Did he mean it? “I must have. You ended the kiss.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, I’m just getting started. Still counts as our first kiss.” He wrapped his arms around her once more and lowered his mouth to hers, his lips once more possessing and caressing, his every thought and feeling seeming to concentrate on her as though she were the only woman in existence for him, as though she were the only woman who mattered.

  He deepened the kiss, his mouth gently pressing against hers as he claimed her heart and her very soul. He could demand anything of her and she wouldn’t refuse.

  She moved against him, loving the feel of his hard contours against her body. Her breasts pressed against his chest and she felt the ripple of his muscles against her thin gown.

  He teased her mouth open and gently thrust his tongue inside, sliding it softly against her teeth and slipping it again into her mouth in a sensual dance that made her wish that more than merely their tongues were entwined and slipping in and out.

  She moaned as he cupped her breast, his fingers moving over the soft swell with seductive confidence, his thumb teasingly rubbing across her nipple until it was taut and engorged. “George,” she whispered against his mouth, arching into him as she gave herself over to the hot yearning he stirred in her with such ease. “You feel wonderful against me. On me. I want all of it.” She clutched his big, muscled shoulders. “I want all of you.”

  He deepened the kiss, revealing the overwhelming force of his own need and hunger. They had both been empty for so long. He eased the gown off her shoulders and bared her breasts. She felt a hint of cool breeze against her skin, and then he took one nipple into his mouth and she felt nothing but an exquisitely scorching heat as he began to slowly tease his tongue across it. “Mercy! George. Oh, my. Ooh. Ahh.”

  She wrapped her fingers in his hair and tugged downward, urging his mouth to remain on her breast and his tongue to keep working its magic. She arched into him. Rubbed against him. His hand drifted lower, toward a molten, throbbing heat that had unexpectedly built up between her thighs. “Evie, stop me.”

  “Not tonight,” she whispered. “Not ever. I love you.”

  Apparently, she had a knack for saying the wrong thing.

  He halted with his hand under her gown and poised half way up her thigh. His mouth was no longer on her breast working its exquisite magic. She felt the cool air against its moist, swollen tip. She was an overheated, throbbing, and squirming mess. His eyes were an enthralling, fiery blue as he studied her face. “Oh, Evie. We have a problem.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “YOU DIDN’T LIKE it?” Evie asked, her voice strained and her control obviously dangling by a slim, frayed thread. She was talking into his chest and refusing to look at him.

  He hugged her against his chest, loving the feel of her soft body pressed to his. Loving the silken softness of her skin beneath his palms and the creamy taste of her breasts upon his tongue. She was a beautiful, disheveled mess, the bodice of her gown wide open to bare those glorious breasts and the skirt hiked up to bare her long, slender legs. His hand was resting on her thigh, so close to the intimate juncture between her thighs he thought he might expire from desperate volcanic lust if he didn’t touch her there soon.

  “Because I thought your kiss was perfect.” She lifted her head just enough so that he felt her sigh against his throat. “I’m sorry you don’t feel the same. What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing, damn it.” He rested his cheek against her soft, golden curls. “And that’s the problem.”

  She finally gathered enough resolve to gaze up at him. She stared at him in confusion. “How is that a problem?”

  “Because I want you, Evie. Not just for one kiss.
Not just for one night.”

  Her breasts heaved lightly against his chest. “What are you saying?”

  He shook his head and groaned. “Hell if I know. You’re a duke’s granddaughter and I’m a hair’s breadth from ruining you.”

  She nodded. “You have my consent to do it. And my willing participation.”

  He gritted his teeth, for the girl was a sheer and utter torment. “You should be running from me.”

  “I will not. I like being in your arms. Actually, I love being in them.”

  “Evie, neither your grandfather nor your brother will allow me to marry you.” She stilled as she gaped at him. Her beautiful blue-green eyes grew wide as saucers. He felt her heart skip beats against his chest. His own heart pounded through his ears. He’d uttered the “m” word. Foolishly uttered it, for Evie was ready to give him everything without the need to mention marriage.

  Which was precisely why he couldn’t take her like this.

  She loved him.

  She trusted him.

  This hopeful, vulnerable innocent wanted him. It never occurred to her that he might take advantage and then abandon her. He wouldn’t, of course. But how could she be certain of his honor? The thoughts whirling in his head right now were far from honorable. It was all he could do to keep himself from stripping the gown off her perfect body, setting her down on the lush carpet beside the hearth, and exploring every inch of her naked body with his lips and tongue.

  For starters.

  His hand was still poised on her thigh.

  She tipped her head and studied him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “No.”

  “Because my answer would be yes.” A tear escaped the threshold of her eye. “My grandfather may be reluctant to give his consent at first, but he’ll relent. My brother will persuade him once he realizes how much I love you. Desmond wants to see me happy. So does Grandfather, but he can be difficult about these things.”