The Many Sins of Lord Cameron

Ainsley couldn’t catch her breath. She lay limply against the cushions, clutching the lip of the seat so she wouldn’t slide off.

Cameron remained unmoving on the carpeted floor, head bowed, handkerchief pressed to himself, his chest swiftly rising and falling.

“Cameron, are you all right?”

He raised his head and gave her a wide, hot smile. Cameron rose over her, fists on either side of her, caging her on the seat.

“Am I all right?” His Highland accent rang through. “Of course I’m all right, lass. I’m better than I’ve ever been.”

“But you—”

“Pulled out of ye? Aye, so I won’t give ye a babe.”

“Oh. Yes.” Ainsley wasn’t certain whether she felt grateful or disappointed. “It was—”

“Far too soon.” His smile broadened. “I know. I want more. I want ye all night, love.”

“Cameron, stop interrupting me.” She sat up to him, met the dark golden eyes that held so much warmth. “I wanted to say that it was beautiful.”

“But far too quick. I want ye the rest of the night.”

“Yes.” Ainsley dissolved into a smile. “I think that would be quite an excellent thing.”

Cameron looked her up and down, his eyes taking in everything, a man liking what he saw. “You’re beautiful, lass.”

His look was like a touch, his words burning. She laughed nervously. “A bit long in the tooth.”

“Ye stop that, now. When I saw ye tonight, Ainsley, when you looked up at me through that mask and ran your tongue over your red-painted mouth, I wanted you so hard. I’d have taken you right there on the stairs if I could have. I showed bloody good restraint not even kissing you until I got you into the anteroom.”

Ainsley stretched, her body pliant. “So I had to hide my face with a mask to gain your attention?”

“Careful with me, woman. I’m barely stopping myself ravishing you all over again.”

Cameron growled and swept a kiss across her mouth. Ainsley splayed her hands against his chest, feeling his heart pounding as swiftly as hers. She loved how large he was, how powerful. How safe she felt with the cushions at her back, and Cameron’s body between her and the world.

“Damn you, Ainsley,” he said. “You are the most enticing, beddable, sensual woman I have ever seen. I want to lie with you all night and all the next day. I want to do things to you and have you do them to me. There are cruder words for what I want, but I’m trying to keep in mind that you’re a lady.”

Ainsley’s heart tripped, but she smiled. “Now you have me curious. Tell me, Cameron. I’m not a fainting flower.”

Cameron put his mouth to her ear. The blunt syllables tapped through her—fuck . . . suck. . . cunny . . . cock. Ainsley felt a lightness in her limbs, a floating sensation that was warm and freeing.

Cameron raised his head, his smile so hot she thought she’d slide from the seat. “Is that what ye wanted to hear?” he asked.

“I don’t regret the question,” Ainsley said breathlessly.

“Good.” Cameron licked between her br**sts. He tugged her legs around him again, but instead of pushing inside her, he held her close, the two of them entwined, face to face.

Ainsley kissed him as he kissed her, both of them tasting, licking, nipping, exploring. So many different sensations under her tongue—the sandpaper roughness of his whiskers; the smoothness that was his scar; the hot, wet point of his mouth; firm, masterful lips.

She kissed his cheek, smoothed his eyes closed with kisses, nibbled her way down his throat. Cameron murmured in pleasure and did it all back to her.

The carriage hit a hole in the road. Cameron held her so protectively that she never felt the bump, but the carriage abruptly slowed.

“Damn,” Cameron growled.

Ainsley didn’t want to let go of him. “What is the matter?”

Cameron gently unwound himself from her and hauled himself into the seat beside her. “We’re almost home.”

“Oh.” Ainsley fought back a wave of disappointment.

Cameron swept up her combinations and dropped them onto her bare skin, then knocked on the coach’s roof. The coachman, thank heavens, didn’t look down at them through the little peephole to see Ainsley in her naked glory. He merely halted the coach.

“Why are we stopping?” She felt cold without him around her, and she hugged the cotton combinations to her chest. “We haven’t turned into the drive yet, have we?” She hadn’t felt the turn, anyway.

“I’m getting out here.” Cameron slid on his shirt then shrugged on the waistcoat. He paused to kiss her, lingered, kissed her again. “I don’t want to risk us arriving together. I’ll walk across the fields, and you take the coach all the way home. Go upstairs and straight to your bedchamber. I’ll come to you there.”

Ainsley warmed. Again, she saw the gentle caring of this rough, brutish man. Cameron was leaving now to protect her and her reputation, not disappearing into the night, finished, having taken his pleasure.

“In my chamber?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to be in yours?” His wing of the house was almost deserted, while Ainsley was housed in a corner of the very busy guest wing.

Cameron draped his cravat around his neck but didn’t tie it. “Easier for me to explain why I’m in the guest wing if anyone happens along.”