Page 49 of The Last Debutante
He tasted her as if she were some English delicacy, and imagined tasting the more intimate folds of her body. He sank deeper into the sea of longing, riding the wave of pleasure. He cupped her breast, filling his hand and then sliding it down to the hem of her gown, finding her bare leg.
She tried to speak, but he would not allow it. She arched her back, pressing into him, and bent her knee. Something fell off the pianoforte with a crash. He hoped it wasn’t a candle, hoped Dundavie didn’t burn around him, but in that moment, he hardly cared if it did. He was too bewitched, too engrossed in the feel of her in his arms.
Daria pressed against him, her hands sweeping around his neck, her breasts pressed to his chest. She thrust her fingers into his hair, skirted the top of his ear, then found his shoulders, felt the tension in his muscles. Jamie’s body hardened with anticipation. He was only moments from lifting her skirts, from sliding his hand between her legs... but his damnably practical head overruled his groin. He did not need this English rose to complicate his life any more than she had already.
She dropped her hand; it hit an ivory key and the sound roused him completely from his lust. With a strength he would have sworn he did not possess, he lifted his mouth from hers. He kissed the bridge of her nose, then pressed his forehead to hers, cupping her head in his hands, calming his ragged breath.
When he felt his senses return to him, he gazed at her.
She gave him a self-conscious smile that put dimples just below the roses in her cheeks. “When shall we go to Mamie’s?”
Jamie sighed. “Incorrigible, you are. When I am assured I can ride, then, aye?”
Her smile broadened; her eyes twinkled with delight. “Aye,” she mimicked.
She sat up and tucked a thick strand of hair that had fallen from her coif into the chignon at her nape.
“Good night, then,” Jamie said, turning away from her and her captivating smile. “Off to bed with you.”Go out of my sight,leannan, so that I will not be tempted.
Still smiling, she rose gracefully from the bench. Her fingers trailed across his back and shoulders as she passed him.
He did not watch her leave, but waited until he heard the door shut and then lowered his brow to the top of the pianoforte, his eyes closed, his jaw clenched against a burgeoning physical desire.
Fifteen
NOTHING INDARIA’Sprevious experience matched a man like Jamie Campbell.Nothing.
She’d never felt anything as fervently as she’d felt his kiss, had never felt such a burning, untenable desire to press her flesh to a man’s flesh—but Lord help her, she’d felt it in every bit of her skin... all in the space of a single kiss.
A delicious little shiver shimmied down her spine as she recalled the way he’d kissed her. Like a man who would possess a woman completely, who would lay her down and take her with a lover’s determination.
She lay on the bed in the dark cloak of night, her fingers tracing down her abdomen and back up, over and over again. She stared at the crack in the drapery, the soft glow of moonlight spilling into her room, and imagined him, big and bold above her, his hair framing his face, his body, his muscles—all of him sliding into her, filling her.
Lord. She rolled onto her side and buried her face in the pillow. What was this she was feeling?Lustfor her captor? She was mad, quite mad, to think in such a way! She was not naïve. Jamie Campbell would use her ill and then happily collect his one thousand pounds. But then, had she not used him? Had she not allowed that splendid, truly spectacular kiss so that she might get whatshewanted?
Daria opened her eyes. There it was. They would each use the other to gain what they wanted. That was the way things were done—in an English ballroom or an old Scottish castle.
How very cynical you’ve become,she chastised herself.Now you will invent an entirely new societal rule to excuse being moved by a brazen, unrefined Scottish laird?
She was far too reckless! What of the damage to her marriage potential? She was being held for ransom, for God’s sake—that alone would ruin her chances for a match with a good title. If rumors that she had done something inappropriate with the laird were to reach England, it would destroy any hope of gaining a husband with even the lowest of titles.
It would prevent her from ever getting married at all. Would she risk everything for physical pleasure?
She couldn’t bear to become a spinster, spending all her days in her parents’ house. Oh, she was playing with fire! She’d walked into the open flame with the ridiculous belief that she’d not be burned. But she had, and it had seeped into her blood and spread indescribable torment through her.
With a sigh, Daria rolled onto her back and stared blankly up at the canopy. She had very few options, really. She needed Jamie Campbell to protect her grandmother. Yet she needed to keep him at arm’s length for the sake of her reputation. She must tread carefully, avoiding him where she could, ignoring the way he made her skin tingle and the way her heart beat faster when he was near.Yes,Daria told herself as she closed her eyes,that’s what you must do.
So, given her very firm talk with herself, Daria had absolutely no excuse the next day when she devised a plan after hearing Young John say that the laird was at work in the hothouse.
She gathered up a basket Catriona had loaned her and marched outside. She’d walked past the small garden in the bailey a dozen times, and this time she paused there, turned about to Duffson, and said, “I feel ill.”
He blinked and looked nervously about.
“It is a woman’s curse,” she added, and watched the color rise high in his cheeks. “Would you be so kind as to fetch me some water? I shall be in the garden.”
Duffson swallowed so hard she could see his Adam’s apple bob. Yet he seemed reluctant to leave her, so Daria put her hand low on her belly and winced. “I can scarcely run, sir. I’ve such a pain.”
The poor young man whirled about and scurried for the main keep.
