Scent Of Danger (A Sinclair & Raven Novel Book 4)

by Wendy Vella

  “Take off your cloak and come and eat. I’m sure you are as hungry as I.”

  Cam watched as she removed the velvet cloak. He nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the dress it revealed.

  The neckline swept low, exposing soft cream skin and a hint of cleavage. The material caressed her breasts and then fell in silken folds to her ankles.

  “That is a lovely dress,” he managed to get out.

  “I had planned to wear one of mine, but your sisters and Lilly refused to allow it.”

  “They can be quite forceful” was all he could manage as his eyes ran over her lovely body. He was suddenly on fire with need to hold her, make love to her. The thought made him smile, as she was his wife after all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Cam escorted Emily up the stairs to the room they would share—after she had insisted he ask the proprietor if there was another room available. There wasn’t, he had informed her solemnly.

  “I shall return once I have checked the drivers are settled for the night. A bath will arrive soon.”

  Relief flooded Emily as he left; his heavy feet made a sturdy sound as they descended the stairs once more.

  Looking around the small space, she saw a bed, floor rug, chest of drawers, and washing water. A small fire spluttered in the grate.

  A knock on the door heralded two footmen who carried in a small bath. They placed it before the fire, and when it was filled, steam wafted upward, urging Emily to climb in.

  “Do you have a screen that I could use?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Sinclair, I shall get it at once,” one of the footmen said.

  The embarrassment of having Cam return to find her naked was more than Emily could stand.

  Once the screen was in place, Emily opened her valise to find her nightwear. Shock held her still as she looked at the clothes inside. She recognized nothing. Lifting a wisp of peach satin, Emily watched dismayed as it unfurled to the floor. Delicate straps held up the fitted sheath but offered little by way of protection from anyone who saw her wearing it.

  “I cannot sleep in this!” Frantically she dug through the case, but not one of the items was hers. Holding up a matching sheer over-jacket, she clutched it to her chest.

  “How could they?” Outraged that her sisters-in-law could have done this to her, she sat on the bed. What was she to do? She could not sleep in these. Surely Cam would be horrified. He would think Emily had purchased them, think that she was luring him to bed her.

  She had no choice but to sleep in her clothing, or wear her cloak over the nightwear, as it was cold. Deciding upon that course, as her clothes would not be comfortable, she took the garments from the valise and the bar of sweet-smelling soap someone had tucked in there, and went behind the screen to quickly undress. Releasing her hair, Emily groaned with relief as if fell over her shoulders. Her head ached from the pins poked into it many hours earlier. Stepping into the water, she enjoyed the heat as she submerged from the waist down. She washed quickly, and was done when a knock sounded on the door.

  “Can I come in?”

  Cam was back.

  “I—ah, yes, I am bathing.”

  “Excellent, and I shall bathe after you.”

  Emily quickly stepped out. Rubbing herself dry, she pulled on the offensive nightwear and her cloak over the top. Only then did she come out from behind the screen.

  “Are you to sleep in that then?”

  Cam was lounging in a chair; the man could look comfortable anywhere. She saw none of the tension in him that she felt.

  “Yes, it’s cold.”

  “Surely not that cold.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  He climbed to his feet.

  “I can sleep in whatever I like.” Emily backed up a bit as he approached.

  “I am having a bath, and when I get out, you will have removed that and climbed into bed.”

  He looked determined, but she was equally so. No way did she want him to see her nightwear. Drat his meddling sisters.

  Another knock on the door stopped her from answering him. It was a maid bearing a tray.

  “Brandy,” Cam said when she closed it. “I thought it would warm and help relax you.”

  Emily glared at the screen after the maid had left, which was of course totally wasted as he was behind it.

  “I do not need relaxing.”

  “You’re strung tighter than a piano.”

  Emily ignored him and opened the stopper, then poured a small measure into a glass and took a gulp. It caught in the back of her throat, making her cough.

  “Brandy is to be savored, not gulped.”

  “Shut up,” Emily snapped. “I have no need of your comments.”

  Nerves had her taking another mouthful, this time a smaller one, and she enjoyed the fiery heat as it traveled through her body and down to her belly.

  She walked around the small room, lifting the curtain to look out into the black night. Rain was falling steadily now, and although she loathed to admit it, Cam had been right to make them stay the night.

  Sipping the brandy, she listened as Cam washed, imagining what he looked like. Not that she wanted to know, of course. In fact if she could, she’d leave the room and find another, but there was no other to be had.

  “You are still wearing your cloak.”

  He walked out from behind the screen wearing a heavy sable dressing gown that came to his calves. It shouldn’t make him look dangerous, it was a simple garment many men wore, but it did. It was as if he was prowling across the floor toward her. His hair was damp and stood off his head, and she refused to look lower, to where the robe had opened in a V, exposing his skin and the hair on his chest.

  “I have no wish to remove it.” She clutched the velvet folds in one hand, and her glass in the other. “You cannot make me.”

  “I have told you I will not hurt you, Emily, will you not trust me?”

  “You said we would not do that.”

  “Actually what I said was, I will do nothing you do not wish for.”

  “It is one and the same thing.”

  “No, it is not. Please take off your cloak, sweetheart.”

  “I cannot,” Emily squeaked. She felt a silly flutter inside when he called her sweetheart, just as she had when he’d used the endearment in the church.

  “Why?” He was before her now, close enough that Emily could smell the soap on him.

  “H-how do you stand it?” Emily leaped on the opportunity to distract him.

  His brow wrinkled. “What?”

  “Being able to smell everything as well as you do?”

  “How much do you know about us?”

  “I have been witness to things that cannot be explained. Things that the average person could not do. I know you are all special.”

  “That is a lovely way of describing our peculiarities, thank you.”

  When he smiled like that she found small lines at the corners of his eyes. They only added to a face that did not need more appeal.

  “I will not say a word.”

  “Thank you again.” He nodded, the damp locks falling forward over his forehead. “Do you wish to know more?”

  She nodded, sipping her brandy, enjoying the feel of it sliding down her dry throat.

  “If you will bear with me, I have to go back into history to explain where it all started.”

  Emily watched him, relieved that for now her cloak could stay in place and she had distracted him.

  “In 1335 a Sinclair saved the Duke of Raven, who was a powerful man. The king was so grateful, as the duke was an ally to him, that he gave our ancestor his title and the land at the base of Raven mountain so they could watch over the Ravens, hence we are their protectors. From that day forth our senses have grown in strength.”

  “It almost seems too far-fetched to believe, and yet I know what you are.”

  “Try living with it,” he drawled. “Dev can see in colors. Every person has one, and he
can tell when a person is ill or gripped by a strong emotion.”

  “I’ve seen his eyes change, the green so vibrant, and his pupils so large.”

  “Bright colors can hurt his eyes sometimes.”

  “Do people have the same colors, or are they all variations of each?”

  “Some are the same, with a slight variation.” He hesitated before continuing. “Dev believes that people should not marry those that are not their color match.”

  Emily cupped the glass in her hands. She had to ask, and yet.... “What I—”

  “We are a match,” he said in a steady voice, his eyes holding hers. “Eden can hear anything from a great distance, which is why she wears earplugs.”

  They were a match, why did this make her happy?

  “Essie can taste, and has as special talent for healing, and I can smell things, sometimes before they happen.”

  “Like a warning?”

  “We can sense danger or trouble, sense when the other is hurt or needing us. That has simply grown since our family and the Ravens have become intertwined through marriage and the birth of children.”

  “And Lilly?”

  “She is both a Sinclair and a Raven. Centuries back a Sinclair was badly behaved with a Raven, and that is the link. She can heal with touch.”

  “And that is why she wears gloves?”

  He nodded.

  “It hurts her sometimes, but bringing Dev back to life when he was shot nearly destroyed her.”

  “I did not realize he had died. That must have been terrible for you all.”

  She could not begin to grasp how someone brought another back from death, but she did not doubt Cam’s words, as he had done just that for her.

  “I have felt that fear several times now, and never wish to do so again.”

  Emily knew that Devonshire Sinclair’s death would have torn his family apart, just as the loss of any of them would.

  “I’m am so glad that she was able to do that, Cam. But what of Warwick, Essie, and Somer? Do they have the sense also?”

  “They do, each is different. Now, shall I take your glass, Emily, so you can remove your cloak?”

  “I have to tell you something, Cam.”

  “All right.”

  He eased the glass from her fingers and placed it on the table, then reached for the fastenings at her throat.

  “Wait!”

  “Emily, you’re being foolish now.”

  “Y-your sisters have done something foolish.”

  “Is that meant to surprise me? Because I’ve known them for many years, and to be honest they rarely do anything that isn’t.”

  “That’s a harsh way to speak about someone you love,” Emily said, playing for time and wishing she could sip more of that lovely warm brandy.

  “I may love them, but I am as aware of their faults as they are of mine, my sweet. You don’t spend your life retrieving them from trouble and not know this about them.”

  His hands went to her throat, where he stroked a finger down the front; his touch was so light Emily barely felt it.

  “Now tell me what they’ve done?”

  “They exchanged my clothing for new pieces they acquired. M-my nightwear is terrible, and my dresses are different also. It is most distressing.”

  She could see he was attempting to swallow a smile, but failed.

  “This is not a laughing matter! I have no wish to parade about like a trollop.”

  “You, Mrs. Sinclair, could never be considered a trollop; you’re far too much a prude.”

  “I am not a prude.”

  “Show me what you are wearing beneath that cloak then.”

  His fingers still played with her skin, but this time they’d moved lower, his hand easing hers aside to open the cloak.

  “I will remember to thank them,” he rasped as his eyes ran over her exposed body.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  She was exquisite, every inch of her. Waves of golden hair hung to her waist, and just the smell of her was arousing him painfully.

  “I never knew you had so much of it.” He picked up a lock, running it slowly through his fingers. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I had to take it down, as my head was hurting.” She said the words in a rush, as if she’d done something wrong.

  “I was not criticizing you, Emily. I should imagine the pins needed to keep this all on top of your head must number many. Your scalp must be quite sore by now.”

  She nodded, watching him warily. Raising a hand, Cam ran his fingers over her head, sifting through her hair to touch her scalp. The moan escaped before she’d realized it.

  “Good?”

  “Yes, th-thank you. I would like to go to bed now.”

  She wanted to back away from him, but had nowhere to go. Only the window was behind her.

  “I will never hurt you, Emily.”

  “I know that.”

  “No you don’t, but you will.”

  Cam eased her forward into his arms and held her gently.

  “Relax now.”

  She was stiff with tension, so he placed his palm on her back and rubbed softly while his other hand continued to stroke her head.

  Cam fought for control. No good would come from forcing his attentions on her, but the hell of it was he was harder and more aroused than he could ever remember being.

  When he’d seen what she wore under that cloak he’d nearly swallowed his tongue. The silken material was gossamer thin and the palest peach. One satin ribbon held the robe together, and he’d wanted to open it and slide his hand beneath to caress her warm flesh, but not yet. Emily would run for the hills if he scared her.

  Her skin was tinged pink from the bath, and the soap she’d used was blended with lavender. That mixed with Emily’s natural scent was like a bloody aphrodisiac.

  Easing back, he kissed her softly.

  “Cam?”

  “The lace here is pretty.” He touched a thin band of peach lace that ran in a line above her breasts. Pleased when her breath hitched, he did it again.

  “We’re not doing that, Cam.”

  “What?” He traced his finger down the opening.

  “Cam.” She sounded unsteady.

  He leaned in and took her mouth again, just a soft brush and then another. When he felt her yield, he took it deeper.

  God, she was sweet.

  Cam had not dallied with innocents in his lifetime; the women he’d taken to bed were experienced... until tonight. How was it possible that Emily inflamed his passions more than any?

  “Open your mouth for me, sweetheart.”

  She did, her lips trembling beneath his as he continued kissing her. He found the ribbon for the robe and tugged it undone, then slid his hand inside, acquainting himself with her slender body.

  “Just feel, Emily.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Cam removed his hands and cupped her face, tilting it so her eyes met his.

  “Can you not trust me?”

  He could see the fear mixed with passion. Saw the battle that was being waged inside her.

  “I do not trust easily.”

  “I know that.”

  “Lessons learned early in my life are still with me, Cam. I cannot change that.”

  “What lessons?” He did not like to think of her living in fear.

  She lowered her lashes.

  “It matters not.”

  “It matters to me, but we will get back to that. For now I want to make you a promise.”

  “What?”

  “If at any time you tell me to stop, then I will do so.”

  She looked uncertain.

  “But surely you won’t.... I mean what if you’re....” Her words trailed off as a blush colored her cheeks.

  “I am not an animal, Emily, and can control myself. Should you wish to stop at any time, then I have promised you I will do so.”

  “Truly?”

  He nodded. Someone had hurt this woman deeply, he’d just never known
how deeply until now. Her trust, Cam realized, was something he wanted... needed, if they were to make this marriage work.

  “Raise your hand and make a fist.”

  She did as he asked. Cam then opened the first two fingers. Doing the same to his, he then curved them around hers.

  “This was the highest form of Sinclair promise when we were children. To break this was a treacherous thing indeed. A two-fingered promise is a vow.”

  Her smile was slow to come but worth the wait.

  “You Sinclairs and your traditions. It must have been wonderful to grow up surrounded by so many people you love.”

  “It was, but then there were moments when you wished for just a minute of solitude. Those days, I barricaded myself into the room I shared with Dev, and I would stuff Eden’s earplugs in tight and lie on my bed reading.”

  “I suppose that did not last long?”

  “I usually got an hour.” Cam smiled down at her. Their fingers were still linked, but now he held them on his chest. “What about you? Did you have any childhood rituals?”

  She shook her head as the smile fell away, and Cam cursed himself.

  “We shall make some then.”

  With his free hand he cupped the back of her head, tilted her chin with his thumb.

  “Remember the promise, my sweet.”

  He kissed her, taking his time to coax her lips open again, savoring the sweet taste of her. She was an intoxicating combination of innocence and sin. Her scent wrapped around him like an alluring cloak.

  They stood there like that for some time; the kisses grew more heated as she began to respond, their fingers still twined. He let his free hand wander softly over her, touching her shoulders and running down her spine. She shivered, but did not pull away. He slid the sheer robe from her shoulders.

  “You are beautiful.”

  “No.” She whispered the word against his mouth.

  “Allow me to know best here, Emily. I have spent many years researching the female form.”

  The sweet-smelling skin of her neck drew him. Placing his mouth there, he kissed her.

  “Oh.”

  Her response had him licking her; this time she shuddered.

  Releasing their fingers, he took her hand and placed it inside his robe. The feel of her fingers on his chest was exquisite. Touching her neck, he ran a finger around the low neckline of the nightdress, dipping lower with every pass until he eased them inside the material. He could feel the swell of her breast, and blood pounded through his body at the thought of cupping it in his palm. Raising the nipple to his mouth to lick.