“Come lie with me, won’t you?” he begged. When she hesitated, he promised, “I only want to feel you close. You needn’t fear me, Cami.”
Far from certain she was doing the wise thing, Cami eased onto the bed beside him. She sat erect with her back to him, not daring to lie down. A moment later, she wished she had. Both Vic’s hands gripped her waist—kneading, massaging, sending wonderful thrills all through her.
“Won’t you lie with me, Cami darling?” he begged again.
Without further prompting, she lay back on the pillows, her whole body stiff and motionless.
“Ah, that’s better,” Vic sighed. “This bed was made for two. It doesn’t fit right otherwise. But the pair of us fill it nicely, don’t you agree?”
As Vic talked, his fingers trailed up and down Cami’s bare arm. He was driving her crazy.
“I’d better go,” she said suddenly.
“As you wish,” Vic replied.
He was under the sheet—part of him at least—and she was on top of it. He did nothing to force her to stay. Yet Cami found herself unable to move. His warmth felt so nice, his hand on her arm so pleasant. She began to relax beside him. Before she knew it, her eyes closed. For some unnatural reason, it suddenly semed perfectly natural that she should fall asleep in Black Vic’s bed, next to his hot, naked body.
The shock would come when she awoke a few hours later to face her situation in the full light of day.
Vic never went back to sleep. How could he with such a soft and tempting female stretched out beside him? This was a hell of a note! After all he’d been through with Cami during the evening—and finally having to swear that he’d not touch her until she was willing.
“Dear, trusting Cami,” he said softly, staring down into her face, as pretty and innocent as a child’s. He was quite sure he was about to be forced to kiss those sweetly pouting lips. But the moment before his mouth would have covered hers, he drew away, frowning.
“Damn!” he swore quietly. “Why does she have to believe that promise I made?” The fact remained, however, that she did believe him and she did trust him. “And she isn’t ready,” he added aloud.
If any other woman had come sneaking into his bedroom at dawn, they would both be sleeping now—exhausted by a long, frenzied period of love-making. That, of course, had been Vic’s first thought when he woke to find Cami standing over him. In that lovely, waking instant, he had believed she was only a vision—a beautiful, leftover fragment from his erotic dreams. But one touch had told him she was all too real. When his hand had grazed her hip, he had felt her warm flesh quiver beneath his fingers like the shank of a nervous filly.
“I wanted you then,” Vic told her sleeping form. “You’ll never know how much. I wanted to hold you and calm you and make you purr beneath me.”
Her eyelids fluttered slightly. Still, Cami slept on.
Seeing that his quiet talk did nothing to disturb her, Vic went on. “You’ve come into my life to drive me mad, haven’t you? For one awful moment last night, I thought you might be one of those cold women. But, thankfully, I was wrong. You’re only innocent of love and frightened by the unknown. And, God knows, you should be! I’m hardly the sort of man to protect you, especially from myself.”
He reached out, meaning to touch her breast. As with the kiss, he drew back. Instead, he gazed at her, at the even rise and fall of her breathing. The gown she wore had a high neck, but the dark outline of her nipples shone clearly through the thin white batiste. Vic leaned down over her breasts and blew a strong breath across their peaks. He watched, fascinated, as the flesh rose and tightened beneath the nearly-transparent fabric. Very slowly, he bent farther, until his mouth gently pressed the tip of one soft mound. He breathed in and out deeply, warming the flesh between his lips.
Cami moaned in her sleep and he quickly drew away, his own moan echoing hers.
“You stupid bastard!” he said to himself. “What if you’d roused her? She’d never have trusted you again, never have stayed with you.”
He lay back beside her, propped on one elbow. He would simply have to force himself to be content with filling his eyes with her. Yet while he filled his eyes, he filled his senses as well. She looked all ivory and ebony, her hair and brows and lashes dark shadows against the pale porcelain of her exquisite skin. The scent of her was pure female—lingering fragrances of lime and gardenia blossoms mingling with that sharp-sweet musk peculiar to a woman who has yet to be loved.
Still fast asleep, Cami turned toward him in bed. As she moved, her gown caught under her. When she settled again, her feet and legs were bare to mid-thigh. Vic had to enforce control when his gaze first took in the sight of her long, shapely limbs, her dainty bare feet, the toes curled prettily.
“Turn once more, Cami,” he whispered, hoping against hope that she would hear his command and obey—that her gown would ride just a bit higher.
The bed was bathed in sunlight now. The room grew hot and humid. Vic felt sweat trickle down his back and sides. Summer heat always aroused him, as if he needed that this morning. Cami, too, was perspiring. Her gown grew damp from the skin out. Before long, she might have been as naked as Vic himself. He smiled. She was, indeed, lovely, so lovely he could barely endure the ache that simply looking at her caused.
“When you are ready, my little love, what wonderful passion we shall know.”
As if she heard and understood his words, Cami smiled in her sleep. One hand stretched out across the sheet until it came to rest on Vic’s chest, a wellshaped fingernail stabbing at his nipple. A sharp thrust of the sweetest kind of pain raced through him.
“No more of this!” he groaned, sliding away from Cami and off the bed. He should dress before she awoke.
A slight tremor shook the mattress. Cami’s eyes flew open. For the first moment, she had no idea where she was. Then all of the previous night’s terror and embarrassment flooded her senses. She was in Victoine Navar’s house. A movement across the room caught her eye. She almost cried out. Holy Mother, she was not only in his house, but in his bed!
And there he stood, facing away from her, as naked as you please. She shut her eyes quickly, wanting to see no more of the straight, tanned back, white buttocks, and long, muscled legs that had been her waking vision. Even with her eyes closed, she found she could not block out that sight. Actually, she realized, she didn’t really want to. Seeing him that way had sent shivers all through her. Pleasant little pricks of hot, delicious pain.
Perhaps just another tiny peek…
Cami opened her eyes and all but fainted dead away. Vic had turned to face her. Not only did she have a full-face view of him, but it was a full-erection view as well. And he had caught her spying on him. He was staring straight into her wide, amazed eyes.
“Good morning,” he said nonchalantly. “Did you sleep well?”
Cami swallowed several times, trying to find her lost voice. “I don’t know.”
Seeing the focal point of her startled gaze, Vic whipped a length of toweling off his shaving stand and wrapped it around his hips.
“If you don’t know how you slept, then obviously nothing disturbed you.”
He went to his shaving stand and began preparing for his morning ablutions as if it were a perfectly normal occurrence for a woman to awake in his bed and find him standing naked—and ready—before her.
“How should I know what happened while I was sleeping?” Cami argued, trying to cover her embarrassment. “Why, almost anything might have transpired.”
Vic turned to her, his cheeks swathed in shaving lather, but a smile showing through. “Almost nothing did. Take my word for it.”
“But how can I be sure?” Quickly, she checked the sheet for blood. Fiona had told her there would be blood.
“You’ll find no stains on the bed,” Vic told her.
“I wasn’t looking…”
“Oh, yes, you were! You were looking for some sign that I might have taken advantage of you. Admit it!”
>
Cami blushed—caught! “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“No, I’m the one who should apologize,” he said. “I did take advantage while you slept. I kissed your breast.”
“Oh!” The word came as a soft gasp. Cami glanced down at her thin gown, then quickly crossed her arms across her chest. She was trembling suddenly and she felt she might cry, not because Vic had admitted to his indescretion, but because it had happened while she was sleeping. She had missed it.
“I do apologize, as I said. It was beastly of me.” He went on shaving. “But, dammit all, I lost control!”
“You didn’t have to admit to what you did,” Cami ventured. “I’d never have known.”
“I thought I’d better tell you,” he said matter-offactly. “You see, I’m not a very trustworthy sort. Even though I promised, you should beware of giving me such opportunities. I am just a man, after all.”
Just a man barely covered it! Cami had seen exactly how much man he was. More man than she could safely handle, she feared.
“I’ll be more careful from now on,” she assured him.
He turned toward her again, the towel dipping dangerously low on his hips. “Why did you come to my room, Cami?”
“Certainly not to tempt you,” she answered quickly. “I don’t really know.” Suddenly, she realized that she did know, if only she could make him understand. “Have you ever been to the circus, Vic?”
He frowned at her. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“My father took me once. There was a lion in a cage—a fearsome beast who roared and gnashed his teeth. I was so afraid! My mother was angry with my father for taking me. She said afterward that surely I would have nightmares about that vicious lion.”
“And did you?” Vic asked, not following her reasoning in the least, but more than willing to hear her out.
“No. I dreamed about him, but they were gentle dreams. I would see myself approaching the lion’s cage in the dead of night. He would be sleeping. There were no frightening roars or scary teeth. I would reach through the bars into his cage and rub his great mane.”
“Weren’t you afraid he would bite your arm off?”
“No, never! While he was fast asleep he was as tame as a housecat. Besides, in my dreams he never woke.”
Vic chuckled. “So you came to my room last night to rub my shaggy mane while I was asleep and couldn’t gobble you up. Right?”
“Something like that.” She pouted at him suddenly. “But you aren’t as tame as my terrible lion. You woke up,” she said accusingly.
“Please forgive me, Cami dearest.” Vic made an exaggerated bow and his towel slipped to the floor. He watched the blood rush to Cami’s face.
“I didn’t do that on purpose,” he assured her. “I’m sorry, Cami.”
“Would your placée see you that way?” she asked softly.
“Undoubtedly.”
She shrugged. “Then you have no reason to apologize to me.”
“You’ve never seen a man before, have you?”
“No,” she said.
“Does the sight of me frighten you?”
“A bit. Yes, quite a bit,” she admitted. She wanted to tell him that because of his amazing size she believed they would be an uncomfortable fit, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
He reached for a robe to replace the skimpy towel. “Then I promise to keep myself covered from now on.”
Cami felt an odd pang of disappointment once Vic’s astounding maleness was hidden away inside his gray silk robe.
“Why don’t you go and dress now?” Vic suggested. “Your lion is definitely awake and aroused. I don’t think you’re quite safe, playing about his cage in your nightie.”
His warning sent Cami scurrying back to her own room.
The next few days proved both a wonder and a torment for Cami. True to his word, Vic made no demands upon her. He remained kind, gentle, charming, and at all times attentive. But the very moment she was certain he meant to touch her hand, put his arms around her, or give her a kiss, he shied away, restraining himself with great effort.
Cami began to feel there must be something wrong with her. Perhaps Vic had changed his mind and didn’t want her for his mistress after all. The more he held back, the more she became determined to make him love her. She had decided already that she loved him. She even thought that to win him over she might tell him the truth about being Edouard Mazaret’s daughter, not a woman of color as she had represented herself. But she dared not confess her true identity until she could be sure that he had accepted her into his heart.
The spiritual side of love was easy enough for Cami to acknowledge. She knew by the way her heart swelled at the sight of Vic that he was meant to be hers. He brought sunshine into the darkest, stormiest afternoon by simply saying her name. He could make her soul sing with a certain smile. Yes, this was love, pure and simple and perfect.
The other side of love, she had yet to experience. But as each day passed, she began to yearn for it more and more. No matter the fit, she had the feeling they were meant for each other. So, what was he waiting for? When would it happen? Surely, they had plenty of opportunity.
Cami and Vic stayed close to the house except the nights that Vic had poker games at Gaspard’s or some other gaming establishment. Cami feared that someone might see her with Vic and recognize her, then tell her whereabouts to Cousin Morris. She had no trouble convincing Vic that she should stay inside. The summer fever season was raging with new cases in all parts of the city. Cannons boomed over the waterfront, smudge pots against the disease further polluted the air, and dead-wagons rumbled through the streets at all hours. The whole house smelled like vetiver and camphor, believed to be protection against the disease. Vic was determined to guard Cami well against the dreaded Bronze John.
On one particularly stormy afternoon, Cami joined Vic in a few rounds of Boston, one of his favorite card games. Although he remained intent on his hand, Cami grew resdess after only a short while.
“Must we play this?” she asked. “I’m no good at cards.”
“That’s why I enjoy it so,” Vic teased. “I always win when I play with you, darling.”
“Why do you call me that?” Cami sounded absolutely peevish.
“What?”
“Darling! You say it with such passion—as if you really meant it.”
He reached across the table and caught her hand. “But I do mean it, Cami darling. It’s a name for lovers. You know I adore you.”
“We aren’t lovers, Vic!” she pointed out hotly. Then her voice fell to almost a whisper. “I’m not sure we ever will be.”
“When you’re ready, my sweet love, then we will be.”
She seethed and burned inside. What must she do? Come right out and beg him to take her to his bed? Well, she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t!
“We don’t have to play cards, if you don’t feel like it,” Vic said. “What would you like to do?”
If ever there was an opening, Vic gave it to her. But Cami let it pass. Instead of telling him the truth, she sighed and said, “Oh, I.don’t know. I just feel so restless and cooped up. Maybe we could go out for a ride.”
Just then a flash of lightning lit the afternoon darkness of the room. The thunder that rolled out behind it shook the whole house.
“Not today,” Vic replied. “We’d get stuck in the mud for sure. Any other suggestions?”
“Could I have a glass of wine?”
He rose and went to the spirits chest. “Certainly. In fact, I’ll join you.”
Cami roamed about the room, prowling like a caged beast. After a time, she flounced down on the settee, staring dismally out at the pounding gray rain. “When I was a little girl, I had a special place to play on rainy days. I used to look forward to long, stormy afternoons like this.”
“So did I,” Vic said under his breath, thinking that days like this were absolutely the best of all for enjoying long, leisurely sessi
ons of love-making. Aloud, to Cami he asked, “Where was your special place?”
“My bed in my upstairs nursery. Mother would let me draw the curtains to make my own little world. I’d bring my favorite toys in with me and we’d hide away from the storm. Sometimes I pretended I was in a harem tent or camping out in a jungle where my fierce lion roamed free. But I was safe behind my barrier.”
Vic sat down next to Cami and took her hand. His unexpected touch sent a thrill through her. “And did your lion come and sleep next to you and let you rub him?”
Cami sipped at her wine, her mind vividly alive with childhood fantasies. “Ah, yes! You’ve guessed my best times.”
“And who came when your bed was a harem tent?”
She giggled softly and squeezed Vic’s warm hand. “My great, dark master. His black eyes would flash with fire as his gaze swept over me and my dollies. I was always safe. He would choose my beautiful blond-haired china doll. You see, dark sheiks are very fond of fair-haired maidens.”
“And was your pretty, blond doll pleased to be the chosen one?” Vic’s black eyes glittered at the very thought of an innocent child entertaining herself with such bizarre fantasies.
“Secretly, perhaps,” Cami confided. “But my dolly always wailed and cried, begging our master to choose another. It never worked; he would not be refused.”
Vic chuckled. “You had quite a vivid imagination as a child. Did this evil master ever choose you?”
“Oh, yes!” Cami’s indigo eyes fairly sparkled. “But he wasn’t evil. He was very tall and very strong and very grand. I was so happy when he finally picked me…” Cami’s words drifted off, leaving Vic hanging.
“Then what happened?” Vic was on the edge of his seat. “Tell me!”
Cami shrugged and laughed. “The storm ended and Mother called me down to supper.”
Vic refilled Cami’s glass, then settled beside her once more. A flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by an especially loud clap of thunder. Startled, Cami cried out and reached for Vic. The next moment his lips were on hers. It was a long, deep kiss—the kind Frenchmen find so pleasing, the kind that Cami had been praying for for many days and nights.
Whispers in Time Page 26
