"I promised nothing to him. I betray no one except myself if I allow this marriage to go on."
"You owe him your allegiance."
She tilted her head again. "You have taunted me and teased me, but..."
"But?"
"Oh, I don't know. You say you cannot understand me. But you are an enigma. I--" She hesitated, needing more air. "It would be far better to know your touch before finding myself in Savage's hands."
"Because I do not bow to your every whim? Because I do not toss your skirt and show you what you have so impulsively offered?"
"Because you care about humanity," she said very softly. "You saved my life only a day ago. You--“
"I never confessed to that."
"You didn't have to. I know you saved me. I can't explain how I know, but.... Perhaps it was the battle cry before you fought the men that followed me. Perhaps it was something Jonathan said. I would offer that which is only mine to give. The only gift I--"
"Let me get this straight," he interrupted. "You want only your freedom in return?"
"Yes."
"It would do no good. Cameron would find you."
"I would hide well."
"There is nowhere you could run."
She bristled. But she did not argue and there was nothing more she could say.
He turned from her, resolved that he really had to leave--immediately. He stopped at the door, his gaze raking heatedly over the small but exquisite form that stood before the fire. Tori was treacherous, bold and so very exciting.
He had fallen under her spell, and he knew that in the days and months to come he would not easily forget this day. And he wondered then if this was the betrayal Aisling had spoken of.
The door slowly swung shut. As he stood outside, the click of the lock was so very final, the deception weighing heavily on his soul and his conscience, his fury simmering
Cameron
The moon cast a golden light upon the land. Cameron sat near the lake watching the ripples lap the beach. It had a soothing effect on his jagged nerves and volatile emotions. The soft sounds made by the waves, the scent of pine mingled with the freshness of the air, put things in a different perspective.
Victoria DeMontville unnerved him, would betray him. He twirled a long blade of grass between his fingers then with a sigh he shifted so that he lay back on the ground, one arm behind his head. It was very late. He doubted if he could sleep. He was in tune with every thing, every sound, every scent that whispered through the air.
A few moments later, he heard a soft tread upon the earth, inhaled the delicate scent that was Victoria's alone, feminine and innocently alluring. In a heartbeat, she was sitting beside him and he found that it was his turn to feign sleep. She touched his bare face, thankfully hidden in the darkness, and smoothed her fingers across his thick beard. He panicked for just an instant that she might recognize him. He reminded himself she had never seen him with a beard. He heard her sigh and felt her attention slip away from him. It was as if he could see her. He tried to keep his breathing even and still his racing heart.
"I know you're awake," she said softly, her voice a husky whisper against the chill of the night.
He tensed, completely rattled by her observation, yet at the same time dared to continue the charade. Willing his muscles to relax, he forced his breath to an agonizing slowness.
"I apologize," she said, wearily.
Now his eyes were open. Her head was bowed, her hair spilling in disarray around her knees which were drawn tight against her. He was certain she did not understand how much those words lifted his spirits, not that she had intended to make him feel better or would have said them if she knew who he was. His hand trembled as he reached out to reassure her.
When she turned back to him, he shut his eyes once again. He told himself he was a coward.
He could hear Tori suck in her breath as she said, "No, you don't have to thank me. I acted a fool. I'm really trying, you know, to keep my temper, to think things out before I act. Nessa said I was improving." He could feel her shudder as she turned to him, touching his lips lightly with her fingertip. "You're really asleep then. I had thought--"
She stood suddenly, shaking the dirt and pine needles from the shirt she wore. She started to leave but then seemed to have second thoughts because she sat back down. He realized she was still a bit fuzzy from the wine she drank earlier in her pursuit of him, and now it was having a mellowing effect on her.
He felt the warmth of her body next to his once more. "I would know who you are," she whispered. "I would have you hold me just once--as a lover would." She was straining to see him, and he knew she could not, but this was a dangerous game he played. He cursed himself for having taken his mask off. He hadn't expected her to come to him. The shadows of the night were his only protection from her seeing his face now. Then he heard her again, a whisper against the night. "Honor be damned."
As a blind person would, her fingers were exploring his face, touching him so sweetly, his eyebrows, the length of his nose, his cheekbones.... "Your mask," she murmured.
Finally, he opened his eyes.
He caught her hands in his. "That's far enough, babe. And if one has no honor then there is nothing. Nothing at all."
He was amazed at her, surprised she offered herself so sweetly. Yet still...she trembled. From head to toe she trembled.
"I thought--"
"I was sleeping soundly," he interrupted. "No, I was only wondering what you were up to now. What are you doing, Victoria? Why are you down here? You are supposed to be tucked away safely in the cabin." And away from me, he added silently.
She snatched her hands back and he suddenly felt bereft. "Up to?"
"You cannot deny the fact that you tried to seduce me." He sat up quickly, restraining her as she thought to leave. She tumbled back to the ground and into his arms. He closed his eyes and looked heavenward for strength. There was no divine guidance forthcoming. He prayed the darkness would continue to hide his face.
He touched her cheek, touched her hair and smoothed it back. His lips brushed across her cheek, then her forehead, then softly nipped her earlobe. "Perhaps it is my turn. Perhaps you have teased and tested my resolve one too many times. I'm a man, Victoria, and perhaps you should learn that if you flaunt yourself in front of me, then I might take that which you offer."
He was gazing into her upturned face. Her eyes were wide and trusting. She innocently moistened her lips. He wanted to kiss her, in the darkness, with his mask off. He wanted her as Cameron Savage, not The Phantom.
His mouth found hers, sweetly and so very tenderly. Caressed it and molded to it. He tasted the woman, the little hellion, the seductress, and he wanted more. Yet he reminded himself once again that she was not yet his, and he would have to be satisfied with a kiss. He reminded himself he'd sworn she'd not betray him. Aisling's prophecy would not come true this night. Honor be damned.
Yet with each kiss, each tender touch, it was growing more and more difficult to resist that which she offered. He wanted her. He ached for her. It was not enough to hold her--to kiss her.
Volatile sensations streaked like lightning through his body, in his arms and legs and in his loins. His arms encircled her. He had to know her, all of her. She was his. He was shaking with desire and the need to possess.
She did not deny him and he understood why. She had come once more to entice him into the magic and the feminine allure that was hers. The supple form of her body pressed against him, melting beneath his hands in a way he had never known before. Heat simmered within, exploding, throbbing, and for the moment, he would not control it.
Thinking very clearly and with virile intent, his hands slipped beneath the fabric of her shirt. He ran his fingertips lightly along the silken length of her back, felt her shiver and heard her soft sigh of pleasure. All thought vanished. The hunger he had denied for so long ravaged him, torturing him throughout the long day. From the very day he had met her, he was overcome by her. H
e kneeled, pulling her with him. She was so close he felt the warmth of her body next to his, saw the acceptance and longing in her eyes, saw her lips part gently as if begging him to taste again. He was a man who would not refuse the invitation.
"Ah, babe, be careful what you ask. You might regret this."
"No regrets," she sighed. He felt the softness of her cheek as it rested on his chest.
He could no longer resist what she was so willing to give. His mouth lowered to hers. He tasted the desire that blossomed within her and the tempest within him roared to life. He gentled his touch now, his caresses whisper soft, meant to reassure, not seduce. Even in his desperate desire, he tempered his emotions and his passion. His mouth molded over hers. His tongue teased her lips, parted then gently until he found the hot, honeyed sweetness inside.
It was heaven. It was hell.
Her heart now lay beneath his hand, and he felt its beat. He pulled his mouth from hers with a deep masculine groan, bringing her head to his chest. His fingers wove into her hair, and he held her close to his heart, close to the pulse of his life, close to the center of his soul. "Damn you, Victoria DeMontville. Damn you for making me want you so."
Even when he thought to push her away, he found he wanted a few more seconds with her, one more minute. He stroked her flesh, caressing her breast, his palm rubbing over the crest of it as it tightened for him. For The Phantom and not Cameron, he reminded himself harshly.
Soft, giving sounds of passion and desire whispered from her throat, in acceptance and pleasure, he was sure. Cameron knew by the way her body molded so sweetly against his own that she had passed any point of resistance if indeed she had ever planned to deny him. She was his. Her hands rested on his shoulder and chest, her fingers touching the tense muscles of his own. She toyed with him, but this was so real. This was no game. Now it was time to end it, stop the charade before he lost all willpower to do so.
His face rose above hers. His body shook with the force it took to move away from her. A fine sheen of sweat covered him from head to toe. He ached for her, needed her, but he could not give in to the powerful magic she wove around him, the mystery that surrounded her. Even in the darkness when there was no chance to do so, he tried to read her eyes, delve into her thoughts, yet the darkness was the only thing that kept his identity a secret from her.
He did not want this. In only a day, they were to marry, and if he allowed this to happen, he would never forget the betrayal, the deception. Yet even now, his temper threatened to explode because of her willingness to betray him.
He could wait. He had to wait.
"We must stop this--now," he warned her, his tone husky, trembling with both fury and desire.
"Please--not yet, not now..."
In return he felt the feminine press of her hips against his and the slight hesitation when she realized the extent of his longing. She wanted him, and he was a fool for denying this.
"Victoria, I will not--“
"I'm not afraid," she said. Her words were so sweet, so very innocent yet self- assured. Her finger rested on his lips, tracing them. He bit down gently--felt her response.
"Please," she whispered.
He felt her tremble with desire; saw the hunger in her eyes. "It doesn't matter," he said. "It doesn't matter that you're so brave. I cannot."
"Please..." she whispered again and moved against him, her arms pulling him closer. "You're the man I want, not Savage. I..."
She had spiraled out of control, her hands and her body asking him for relief, sweet relief. If he could only give it, yet he dared not.
"I want The Phantom."
He stiffened at her words, his anger simmering deep inside. She wanted a myth, not a real man, not the flesh and blood man. Cameron Savage was real, yet she denied him. Weren't they one and the same? Wouldn't she respond as passionately to Cameron? Fool! Well, she would have what she wanted. He would no longer deny her the myth, but he would also give her the man.
"Run. Run now or forever accept this," he told her softly. "Change your mind now, for you are in the greatest peril. If you stay, we both may come to regret this night, but I can refuse you no longer. Decide now or trust not in my honor because I've been like a man long damned."
With all his strength, with all his resolve, he reached behind his neck and unclasped her fingers. He pushed her away then set her hands on her lap. She looked up at him.
"No..." The one word was softly spoken. He felt the rogue and the cheat. He knew exactly how she felt. "No," he said once more, but this time it was to help his own wavering determination.
She parted her lips to whisper, "Please..."
Tori was so very beautiful. The moon glow reflected off her hair that fell in disarray around her shoulders, a river of brandy. Her shirt was tossed slightly askew, slipping from her shoulders to reveal the tops of her breast, revealing perfect ivory flesh. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, testing his resolve.
"Yes," he returned emphatically. "I would not tarnish your reputation, babe, not for any sweet reward or promise. I hold what is mine, but you are not mine to possess." His words were stiff and punctuated for her benefit and perhaps his.
"I would not tell Savage."
He bristled then cocked an eyebrow in mockery. "You wouldn't have to. He would know."
He heard her swift intake of air, saw the quick look of confusion then understanding and he wondered just how innocent she was. He had hoped, had even prayed that it was possible, but then he'd realized that was probably expecting too much.
"How?" she asked then lowered her lashes, her embarrassment obvious.
His grin was devilish. "Perhaps a little sex education is needed here, but that is for your husband, not me. I would never pretend to..."
He saw her bristle but she seemed to have nothing to say to that. The silence then was palpable, seeming to go on forever. She sat motionless, and he watched her with a nonchalance he didn't feel. She looked as if she'd like to vanish, perhaps evaporate without even speaking to him again. He didn't blame her. He had not handled this very well at all.
"I've had the finest education. I have nothing to learn from the likes of you or Savage. I don't know what I saw in you. You have no heart, no soul."
He tipped his head, acknowledging her words then extended his hand to help her rise. "It's time you got back to the cabin. Cameron might not find it to his liking if he found you in such a compromising position. You have a certain look about you. Pleased and well satisfied. Although we both know the truth, I doubt if the barbarian in Cameron Savage would see it that way. I, for one, do not wish to test it."
He pulled her suddenly and swiftly to her feet, a protest rising in her throat. When she was standing easily, he held both hands gently in his then turned them over and reverently pressed a kiss to the heart of both palms. She shuddered when he did so. The taste of her filled him and again it was all he could do to send her away, all he could do not to toss her on the ground and make love to her. She would not deny him. The tension within him was ferocious, and in these few moments of quiet and peace between them, he knew he had claimed her and rejected her in a way she would never understand. Perhaps he would never understand it himself.
He would have her in time, and it would be far sweeter than a moment taken in anger and denial or even seduction. So now, with the volatile energy still pulsing between them, energy so intense it made him shake with need, he held her away, prepared to send her back to the cabin to await her husband.
His hands were on her shoulders now, and he turned her, pointing her toward the cabin. He gave her a gentle nudge of encouragement. To his great relief she started walking. He ran his fingers through his hair, watching her as she moved gracefully away. Then he inhaled deeply. It was futile, he knew. It would be a long time before he felt any respite whatsoever, a long time before Cameron could deal with her without the anger and grief he felt.
She had only gone ten paces when she turned. He knew he was doomed.
She made some small sound of distress. He stared at her. He could not see her eyes, her features. She cried softly again and raced toward him. She threw herself against him, and his arms swept around her with an incredible hunger. His lips found hers.
She gasped when his mouth lifted from hers, and she gazed up at him. Framed as they were in the light from the moon, still she could not see his face clearly. The night was dead silent until his ragged whisper caressed her. "You have cast your fate with me tonight," he said.
"You are my destiny," she whispered, and her lashes did not flutter, nor did her gaze stray from his. His hands encircled her arms. Her lips parted in a soft whimper as he ripped the fabric and her shirt fell to the ground in a swirl.
Still he gazed upon her. The moon glow danced magically on the fine ivory of her flesh, outlining the perfect roundness of her breasts and defining the dusky crests, her nipples hard and begging for his caress, creating shadows at the slenderness of her waist, shining brightly against the gentle flare of her hips.
Rebel Heart Page 25
