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

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Scent Of Danger (A Sinclair & Raven Novel Book 4) Page 26

by Wendy Vella


  His staff were surprised by the arrival of the recently wed Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, but rallied, and soon food and a bath were readied in Cam’s rooms.

  Exhausted, they made their way upstairs leaning on each other. Cam just had the strength to carry her over the threshold and into his room; he then stumbled to the bed and threw Emily on it. Even her giggle sounded weary.

  “Now strip, woman, and bathe, then you can get into bed and eat.”

  “I have no strength to move. I just want to sleep.”

  Cam watched as she curled on her side like a kitten, and his heart expanded. She was here safe, and Lord, he loved her.

  “Em, you smell,” he said, gently rolling her onto her back.

  “Do I?” She opened her eyes and sniffed. “Oh, I do. That must be awful for you.”

  “Nothing about you could be awful,” Cam said. “But I prefer your natural perfume.”

  “That is a big bath.”

  “Yes, I’ve always believed it was big enough for two, and now I can test that theory.”

  Emily’s hands stopped as she turned to stare at him. “P-pardon?”

  “Care to share my bath, wife?”

  She was shocked, which made him laugh. He was going to enjoy stripping away her inhibitions.

  “Come on, don’t dawdle, the water will cool.” Naked now, Cam stepped closer and stripped her out of her clothing. She did not put up much protest. When her boots were hurled across the room, he picked her up and lowered them both into the water.

  “Bliss.” Cam sighed, leaning back with her. “Relax,” he said as she tried to struggle upright. “One thing you should know about me, Emily, is I am not a man for conventions or prudish behavior.”

  She made a choking sound in her throat. “I already know that about you.”

  “There you go then; life will go easy now.”

  “Oh, that I doubt very much.”

  He felt her relax under his hands as he ran them slowly down her arms.

  “I had never thought the day would come when I would bathe with a man, but I have to admit that you make an ideal pillow.”

  He tweaked a curl.

  “One question?”

  “Anything,” she said.

  “Did he hurt you?” The question had been burning inside Cam since he’d found her in that room. He needed to know if that bastard had harmed her.

  “No, he did not hurt me. The ride to London was long and tiring, but the only pain I felt was from leaving you. I was so scared for you, Cam, knowing you had been hurt.”

  “And I for you.”

  “How has this madness happened between us, when for so long we loathed each other?”

  “Perhaps it was not loathing, but something else that we fought, my love.”

  “Perhaps you are right. I remember thinking about you a great deal more than I should.”

  “And I you, and my thoughts were not always pure.”

  She turned and lay along his body, looking up at him. Cam could lose himself in those eyes. “How is it that every time I look at you I see more beauty?”

  Their kiss was long, and left them both gasping for more. They washed, and then stumbled to the bed. She wanted a nightdress, he said she wouldn’t need it, and seconds later she was wrapped in his arms slumbering.

  Cam pressed his face into her hair and inhaled. He had it all now, family and Emily. The small space inside him that had once been empty was now full. He was complete.

  EPILOGUE

  “But it does not read right, Cam.”

  Emily was bent over Cam’s shoulder reading the newspaper.

  “I’m sure it does,” he said, attempting to stay calm.

  She jabbed a finger at the column.

  “No, it doesn’t. That piece needs to be at the top of the page.”

  “Remove your finger, madam.”

  Emily jabbed it again just to annoy him.

  “God’s blood, you would tempt the patience of a saint!” he roared. Pushing back his chair, he tumbled her into his arms. “It is lucky for us both that I am not one, however.”

  Emily wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Very soon the only sounds in his office were sighs and moans.

  “You did that deliberately,” Cam said, nibbling her ear.

  “Of course not. I do think those changes would make that article for The Trumpeter better. But I defer to your superior judgment, of course.”

  He snorted. “No you don’t, you’ve just learned to manipulate me.”

  “I would never manipulate a person... and most especially not my husband.” Emily went for an outraged look, which had him snorting again.

  Life with Cam six months after they had married was, to her mind, bliss. They still argued, but for the most it was a vigorous debate, and both had learned to concede when they realized they were wrong... for the most part anyway.

  Emily loved him so much it terrified her, but he said that was a good thing, as it would keep her doting on him.

  She loved his laugh, his exuberance, the love he had for those in his circle, but most of all she loved the woman he had made her become.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Loving me. Believing in me, and for making me be a better person.”

  He stopped nibbling her ear and looked at her, those Sinclair green eyes intent as he tried to read her thoughts.

  “You were always a good person, sweetheart, I just helped you to understand that. As for loving you, well that was the easy part. You are a very loveable person.”

  “As are you.”

  “Christ!”

  “What?” Emily was suddenly on her feet, and Cam was straightening her clothing.

  “They are here.”

  “Who?”

  “All of them... the whole bloody lot!”

  A knock sounded on the door, and their butler appeared looking harried.

  “What is it, Bodkins?” Emily asked.

  “The Duke and Duchess of Raven, Lord and Lady Sinclair—”

  “Yes, yes, there is no need to recite the entire list of names, Bodkins, we know who they are,” Cam growled. “Seat them somewhere, and bring plenty of food, especially if that reprobate cousin of mine is here also.”

  “Captain Sinclair is present, sir.”

  “And is there any indication as to why I have been descended upon?”

  “I believe Lord Sinclair said that you have eaten at their table plenty of times, therefore, they are reciprocating.”

  Emily laughed as Bodkins left.

  “What has you so happy?”

  “You... family, the feeling of being part of all this.”

  He caught her as she launched herself at him.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he whispered into her ear. “It makes me happy too, but don’t tell them that.”

  It would be several long minutes before the once again immaculately attired Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair went to greet their families.

  THE END

  THANK YOU!

  Thanks so much for reading SCENT OF DANGER.

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  • For a sneak peek of LORD GALLANT book 1 in my Lords Of Night Street Regency romance series, please read on.

  LORD GALLANT – available now!

  “Enter!”

  The word was barked, so Grace took a deep breath and then opened the door to walk inside.

  “Shut it, please, Grace.” He rose briefly, and motioned her to a chair before his desk.

  “I-I will stand, my Lord, as my skirts are damp.”

  “You will sit,” he said in a clipped tone, so she did, as he did not appear to be in a negotiating mood.

  He did not wear a jacket, only shirtsleeves, and thi
s was the first time she had seen him dressed that way. It made him look softer. Of course this was not the case, yet he did appear more approachable.

  “Where have you been today?”

  He was angry, his dark eyes glaring at her.

  “To visit with my cousin, my Lord.”

  “And you did not feel that anyone should be notified as to where you had gone… on foot, for—” He looked at the clock on the wall over the top of her head. “—six hours.”

  “No,” Grace said. He waited for her to elaborate, but as Grace was nervous and did not wish to antagonize him further, she said nothing else.

  “No,” he said softly. “You wish to offer nothing further?”

  Grace nodded, which seemed to make him angrier, as he rose to his feet and braced his hands on the desk, leaning on them toward her. It was an intimidating pose, and Grace swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in her throat.

  “Countesses do not leave the house and fail to return for six hours without telling anyone where they have gone,” he said. “It was irresponsible and foolhardy, not to mention dangerous, Grace.”

  “I was in no danger, my Lord.”

  “What if something had happened to you and no one was aware of your identity?” He was growling now.

  “I had my maid with me and was with my cousin the rest of the time,” she said quickly, hoping that would appease him.

  “You walked, Grace, there and back…along streets I would rather you did not frequent, in conditions that are at best termed, bleak.

  “H-how did you know that?”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t walk?”

  She shook her head. “No, I did walk, but—”

  “Well it matters not then how I know, only that I do. You will not walk the streets of London again.”

  “Do you?” Grace said and then instantly wished she hadn’t.

  “Do I what?”

  She had to tell him now she’d started. “Leave the house alone, without telling anyone where you are going.”

  “It is different for me,” he said slowly. “And after what happened to you at the ball, I would think you would be aware of just how fragile a woman’s reputation is. Furthermore, you are now my countess and what you do reflects on me. Therefore, I will not have you leaving this house without alerting me as to where you wish to go and with whom, then I shall determine if you may do so.”

  Grace had a temper. It rarely surfaced, but when it was tweaked it was not easy to rein back in. And he had just tweaked it.

  “I will not be kept away from my cousin or my dog, my Lord.” Stay calm Grace, nothing good ever came of you losing your temper.

  “You’ll do as I say,” he growled, no longer the composed earl she had believed him to be. His eyes blazed and his body became stiff with rage. “And as your cousin is quite possibly responsible for your reckless behavior, I think time away from him would benefit you.”

  Pompous ass. Grace clenched her fists.

  “I told you not to marry me, told you I had no wish to do so, but you insisted, and now I must adhere to the rules you set me.” Grace tried not to yell, tried to maintain a semblance of calm. The problem was, she had lost the ability to hold her tongue the moment he had told her that Harry was responsible for her behavior. Harry was her savior, the one person who truly understood her.

  “You have obviously been allowed to make your own decisions, which I assure you will no longer be the case.”

  The anger inside her was so strong, Grace’s vision blurred. She tried to breathe, tried to inhale a large deep breath to calm her down before she spoke, but failed.

  “Lord Attwood, I will not let a man who cares nothing for me dictate my movements for the remainder of my life.” She sounded shrill and cared not one whit. He would not do this to her. “I will not be kept from my cousin!”

  “I am now the man who will dictate your actions, not your cousin,” he said in a low deep voice. “You bloody well will do as I say,” he went on, surprising her by cursing, “and tomorrow we will address the issue of your new clothing, as I will not allow you to walk about dressed in those rags a day longer!”

  “How dare you!” Grace cried. “Not everyone is raised to understand the cut of a coat or how many folds to wear in your necktie.”

  “As you have just chosen men’s fashion to make your point I think in fact it strengthens mine. However,” he lifted one hand as she opened her mouth, “just because I do not choose to dress in the fashion my grandfather did, does not make me a dandy!”

  “I do not dress like my grandmother,” Grace said, looking down at her dress.

  “No, I should imagine your grandmother would never have stooped to dressing in such a rag.”

  “Pompous ass!” Grace screeched, getting to her feet. “You are like all the rest of the noblemen I know. Arrogant, self absorbed, with not a care for anyone but themselves!”

  They were roaring at each other now, their anger out of control as they both gave vent to the feelings that had ridden them for days. Hurtful words filled Grace’s head, bitter nasty words at the injustice of her situation. She swallowed several times to try and keep them inside.

  “Let me go then, let me move back to my cousin’s, and I shall leave London for the country and you can annul the marriage.”

  “You wish to be ruined, have society turn their backs on you, and live your life in disgrace?”

  “It would be no worse than the fate that awaits me wed to you!” Grace cried, running for the door. Once there she stopped and looked at him one last time. “My cousin saved me, Lord Attwood, when I had no one. I will let not let you keep me from him.”

  Wrenching the door open she then fled, picking up her skirts and running, ignoring the roar of her name coming from behind her. She just prayed her door had a sturdy lock on it.

  Lord Gallant

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