Page 35 of Ravishing Camille
He stopped again. This time the moonlight was upon his face and she saw the magnificent lines of his handsome bone structure and deep inside her, every bit of her stirred. She swayed, her thighs crushed together to deny the hot gush of need that darted through her. She wanted him again as she’d felt him nights ago, flush against her, his body rigid, his penis full and urgent, wanting her despite himself. He did not move to take her in his arms, though his nostrils flared and his eyes burned silver fire. He stared at her as if she were a woman he had to have. A woman who was a stranger. “You don’t mind that I’m to be your keeper?”
That he termed it that way made her very happy, though of course, no man would ever really be such for her. “Is that what you’ll be? Ho-ho! Try that and you’ll be sorry.”
He caught her wrist and pulled her to a stop. “I want to show you a good time.”
Ah. She approved of that idea, too. “I’d like nothing better.”
Anger flashed across his sharp features. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Your mother doesn’t care for Connor.”
“I know. Papa doesn’t find him charming either.”
“And you? You never really told me the other night.”
Yes. Let’s talk about the other night.“I’m…discovering.”
Pierce widened his eyes. “It would be best if you discovered him gone.”
She chuckled. “I know you must have reasons. Aside from his father’s profligacy, I do mean. But please allow me to discover what the reasons are all by myself.”
“Camille.” He shook his head. “There are so many good men, darling.”
Darling.She licked her lips, in love with the sound of that on his tongue.
He caught a sharp breath, dropped her wrist and took up his stroll again, hands jammed in his dressing gown pockets. “I thought we’d go to the theatre.”
“Yes. Let’s call on your Mister Macfarlane at the Langham and take him to the theater and dinner.Sarah Bernhardt is playing. I forget where. No matter. Icould arrange a dinner party at the house, too. My publisher, his wife. You’ll like them. Mama’s man of business for the City exhibition. His wife. Do you think your Mister Macfarlane would like to be paired with Lady Brianna? Just for dinner, of course. I’ll see if she goes to London soon.”
He stopped, the look on his face a cross between hilarity and pride. “You’ve got us all planned out.”
Paired off, too. As if we were a couple.“I do. Do you mind?” She tried to look puzzled, but she knew he adored people who thought ahead, planned completely. That’s who she was. Always had been.
“No!” He shook his head and scanned the heavens with a grin on his face.
Ah, so, he had worried, had he? “Good.”
“We’ll have a wonderful time,” he said, then scowled. “Connor is not expected to be in London, is he?”
“No.”
“You do realize that if he appears I will have to shoot him.”
She tisked. “Just a nick, please.”
“To see if he bleeds?” He scolded her with wicked narrowed eyes.
She laughed and cuffed him. But in the move, she put a foot wrong on a stone and slipped.
He caught her. And up against his warm hard chest, her breasts flowered and her nipples heated. Her lips parted. She sought his gaze.
There again was his desire for her flat against her thigh. She clamped her legs together.
He plunged his fingers so deeply into her hair, she could feel his nails against her scalp. And when she thought he would have kissed her, she put the flat of her hand to his heart.
Then she forced herself to smile, a tremulous offering of uncertainty, and she stepped back.
“Let’s go home,” he said in a voice she’d never heard. He wound one arm of hers through his and patted her hand.Like a brother. Again.“It’s late.”
But what she knew in the marrow of her bones was that it was too late. Too late to ignore what she felt for him. Now. As a man. Too late to pretend what she felt did not exist. Or that it was affection for a sibling who was not even one. But a man who’d been her friend. Still was.
