The Many Sins Of Lord Cameron (MacKenzies & McBrides #3)(30)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

And then Patrick, instead of chucking Ainsley into the street as he could have, had worked quickly and compassionately to save her. Only his and Rona’s intervention, and John Douglas’s kindness, had kept the world from discovering her shame. Patrick, Rona, and John had covered up what Ainsley had done, and Ainsley owed them everything.

“My lord . . .”

“My name is Cameron.”

“Cameron.” Ainsley closed her eyes and drew a breath for strength. “I want to. I very much want to be your lover. But I can’t.” The words dragged out of her, holding all the regret in the world.

“Why the devil not? You live like a servant and dress like a dowd. We’ll go to Paris if you’re worried about what people will say in London. You’ll dress like a queen instead of fetching and carrying for one, and I’ll drape you in jewels that will make this little bauble nothing.”

A vivid image arose, Ainsley in satin gowns the colors Isabella and Cameron had picked out for her, ropes of diamonds around her neck, rubies glittering in her ears. “Would there be sapphires?” she asked wistfully. “They’d go nicely with all those blue frocks.”

Cameron’s smile made her limbs weak. “There can be anything you want. A new gown every day, jewelry to go with it. A fine carriage for you to ride in, pulled by the best horses. I know a man in France who breeds the most amazing carriage horses. You could pick out the ones you liked.”

Of course, he’d give Ainsley the best horses. Horses were to him what diamonds were to most women. Precious, beautiful, worth seeking the best.

“You have fire in you, Ainsley Douglas. Let it out with me.”

She wanted to. She could have this, Cameron’s strong arms around her, the man in him awakening the woman in her. She’d never experienced anyone like him—a virile male who could arouse her simply by whispering her name.

“Please, don’t tempt me like this,” she said.

“I want to tempt you. I want you with every ounce of strength I have, and damn the scandal. Isabella is right—it’s past time you threw off your widow’s weeds and enjoyed your life.”

“It’s not the scandal I’m afraid of.” Ainsley drew a breath, her chest aching. “Believe me, were I alone in the world, I’d tell scandal to go hang and do as I pleased.” She’d realized a long time ago, however, that it wasn’t the scandal that was important, but the people she hurt with the scandal.

Raw pain flickered in Cameron’s eyes, an old hurt that had never gone away. “At least tell me you’ll think about it. Spend the winter with me in Paris. Promise me you will, Ainsley.”

Ainsley bit her lip so she wouldn’t blurt out the word, Yes! She could take what he offered and wring every bit of enjoyment from it before it was over. He’d move on, but she’d have that brief time to remember.

Cameron stilled, reading refusal in her silence, and what she saw in his gaze nearly undid her. Loneliness, years upon years of it, locked away behind the façade of a libertine. Cameron’s rakehell reputation hid a man broken and numbed long ago, a man seeking physical pleasure because he knew he’d obtain nothing else from life.

An offer like this from any other man might have angered and insulted Ainsley, but her eyes welled with sudden tears as Cameron lifted himself away from her.

“Do up your frock,” he said curtly. “The scavengers will be along.”

Ainsley reached for the buttons. “Cameron, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. If you don’t want to, you don’t.”

To her surprise, she realized she’d hurt him. For her, the decision was whether or not to break her brother’s heart all over again, but Cameron must see only a woman not wanting to be with him.

She touched his sleeve. “My hesitation has nothing to do with you, Cam. Of not liking you, I mean. I like you very well, and I’m sorry that I constantly make you angry. Regardless of all this, I hope that we can continue as friends.”

“Friends?” With breathless suddenness, Ainsley found herself caged against the billiards table again. “I don’t want to be friends with you, Ainsley Douglas. I want to be your lover. I want to bury myself inside you, I want to find out whether you taste as good all the way down, I want to feel you squeezing me, and I want to hear your cries as you take me inside you.”

Oh, yes, that would be . . . yes, quite wonderful. I want to be your lover too, Cameron. I want it with everything I have.

“Being friends with you will never, ever satisfy me,” Cameron finished.

“Me either, quite frankly.”

“Then why the hell did you offer it?”

Ainsley gave a little shrug. “Better than nothing?”

Cameron growled. He hauled her into strong arms that would never let anything bad happen to her and crushed a brief, hard kiss to her lips.

“Ainsley, what am I going to do with you?”

“Let me borrow five hundred guineas?”

“The devil.” Cameron let her go. “I’ll give you the money, but if you go on insisting on drawing up a loan document, understand that I’ll have nothing more to do with it. Has Phyllida fetched the letters?”

“She’ll have them tomorrow, she says.”

Cameron only nodded. “Good. Then you take them from her and be done. If she tries to cheat you or asks for more money, tell me, and then Phyllida will deal with me.” His smile was vicious. “She doesn’t want to have to deal with me.”

The finality in his voice told Ainsley that Phyllida wouldn’t win that fight. “Thank you for your help, Cameron. I mean that.”

“And I mean it when I say I want you. I intend to finish what is between us. Whether you wish to make it a longer affair is up to you. Now, do up your frock.”

Ainsley started buttoning. The blasted man had been in such a hurry to unbutton her, but when it came time to tidy up, he turned away, finished. So like a male.

Her fingers brushed the diamonds as she buttoned. “What about the necklace?”

“Keep it. Sell it. Hell, I don’t care what you do with it. Just don’t give it to Mrs. Chase for those damnable letters.”

Cameron spoke carelessly, but Ainsley saw him preparing for the hurt of having Ainsley give him back the diamonds. Would he return them to the jeweler, or throw them into a drawer and wait to give them to the next lady on his list?

Fat chance. These diamonds are mine. Hard luck on those other ladies.