we argue about this later? I—I have to step outside.”
“Where are you going?” demanded Georgiana.
“Never mind. It’s just for a short while.” Sophie hated to wheedle, but time was of the essence. “Please, Georgie. I am begging a favor of you—let me fly without further haranguing. It’s terribly important.”
Her sister’s scowl softened. “Then it goes without saying that you can count on me.”
“Thank you.” Sophie heaved a sigh of relief. “I promise I won’t be long.” Gathering her skirts, she turned and hurried for the door.
Traversing Piccadilly as fast as she dared, Sophie darted through the entrance to Green Park and cut along the graveled footpath leading to the far side of the lawns. Just as Cameron had described, a secluded copse of chestnut trees stood beyond a fringe of bushes, their leafy shadows promising a modicum of privacy.
“Over here.” The familiar voice floated out from behind the rough-barked trunks.
Sophie quickened her steps, an unwilling rush of excitement tingling through every fiber of her body.
Oh, surely it is wrong to respond like a shameless hussy—I am prim, practical Sophie Lawrance, she reminded herself. Who always errs on the side of caution.
But seeing as her life was already heading to Hell in a handcart, what did it matter if one more sin was scratched on her slate?
Peering through the shifting scrim of greens, Cameron saw Sophie lift her skirts and cross onto the grass. She moved with an unconscious grace, light and airy as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing, and as he watched her approach he felt his heart begin to hammer against his ribs. Memories, memories… He shook his head, trying to banish the bedeviling past.
“Don’t look back,” he murmured, his gaze glued to the wisps of honey-gold curls dancing in the breeze. In a louder voice, he called again. “Over here.”
She hesitated for instant before ducking beneath the branches. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her breath a little ragged. “You came.” A tremulous smile. “I thought perhaps last night was merely…a figment of my imagination, brought on by too much wine.”
“You tasted of champagne,” he murmured. And an ethereal sweetness beyond words.
Her color deepened. “I fear its effervescence affected my wits. I am not in the habit of…of…”
“Of kissing masked men in the bushes?” he suggested.
“Precisely. As you know, I am sober, sensible Sophie.” The shade of regret in her voice might only have been a delusion of his own benighted brain.
Cameron inhaled deeply, the floral scent of her fragrance sending a sudden wave of intoxication bubbling through his blood.
Don’t—oh, don’t. Reason sought to make itself heard above its thrumming rush.
Too late. Something inside him snapped, unleashing a wild, primal longing that he had thought was long since tamed. “You are also sensual, sinful Sophie,” he whispered, sweeping her into his arms. “Or have you forgotten those sun-dappled magical moments?”
“How could I ever forget?” Her hands skimmed along his jaw, her lips touched his cheek—hungrily, or so it seemed to him. “But sin has no place in my life anymore.”
“No?” He teased his tongue along her mouth.
She choked back a moan. “No. My family depends on me.” A sigh. “They need me. Now, as then.”
“What of your own needs, Sophie?” Cameron let her body slowly slide down his. As her feet touched the ground, he took her face between his hands. “What of your own desires?”
“I…” The pulsepoint at her throat was skittering out of control.
“Don’t tell me you have no desires,” he whispered, licking the throbbing flesh.
The lush caress seemed to rattle her self-control. A sound—somewhere between a laugh and a sob—broke free as she slipped her hand inside his shirt and pressed it to his bare skin. “I—I can’t deny it.” Her palm touched the taut nub of his nipple, then suddenly pulled away.
“Where are you going?” demanded Georgiana.
“Never mind. It’s just for a short while.” Sophie hated to wheedle, but time was of the essence. “Please, Georgie. I am begging a favor of you—let me fly without further haranguing. It’s terribly important.”
Her sister’s scowl softened. “Then it goes without saying that you can count on me.”
“Thank you.” Sophie heaved a sigh of relief. “I promise I won’t be long.” Gathering her skirts, she turned and hurried for the door.
Traversing Piccadilly as fast as she dared, Sophie darted through the entrance to Green Park and cut along the graveled footpath leading to the far side of the lawns. Just as Cameron had described, a secluded copse of chestnut trees stood beyond a fringe of bushes, their leafy shadows promising a modicum of privacy.
“Over here.” The familiar voice floated out from behind the rough-barked trunks.
Sophie quickened her steps, an unwilling rush of excitement tingling through every fiber of her body.
Oh, surely it is wrong to respond like a shameless hussy—I am prim, practical Sophie Lawrance, she reminded herself. Who always errs on the side of caution.
But seeing as her life was already heading to Hell in a handcart, what did it matter if one more sin was scratched on her slate?
Peering through the shifting scrim of greens, Cameron saw Sophie lift her skirts and cross onto the grass. She moved with an unconscious grace, light and airy as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing, and as he watched her approach he felt his heart begin to hammer against his ribs. Memories, memories… He shook his head, trying to banish the bedeviling past.
“Don’t look back,” he murmured, his gaze glued to the wisps of honey-gold curls dancing in the breeze. In a louder voice, he called again. “Over here.”
She hesitated for instant before ducking beneath the branches. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her breath a little ragged. “You came.” A tremulous smile. “I thought perhaps last night was merely…a figment of my imagination, brought on by too much wine.”
“You tasted of champagne,” he murmured. And an ethereal sweetness beyond words.
Her color deepened. “I fear its effervescence affected my wits. I am not in the habit of…of…”
“Of kissing masked men in the bushes?” he suggested.
“Precisely. As you know, I am sober, sensible Sophie.” The shade of regret in her voice might only have been a delusion of his own benighted brain.
Cameron inhaled deeply, the floral scent of her fragrance sending a sudden wave of intoxication bubbling through his blood.
Don’t—oh, don’t. Reason sought to make itself heard above its thrumming rush.
Too late. Something inside him snapped, unleashing a wild, primal longing that he had thought was long since tamed. “You are also sensual, sinful Sophie,” he whispered, sweeping her into his arms. “Or have you forgotten those sun-dappled magical moments?”
“How could I ever forget?” Her hands skimmed along his jaw, her lips touched his cheek—hungrily, or so it seemed to him. “But sin has no place in my life anymore.”
“No?” He teased his tongue along her mouth.
She choked back a moan. “No. My family depends on me.” A sigh. “They need me. Now, as then.”
“What of your own needs, Sophie?” Cameron let her body slowly slide down his. As her feet touched the ground, he took her face between his hands. “What of your own desires?”
“I…” The pulsepoint at her throat was skittering out of control.
“Don’t tell me you have no desires,” he whispered, licking the throbbing flesh.
The lush caress seemed to rattle her self-control. A sound—somewhere between a laugh and a sob—broke free as she slipped her hand inside his shirt and pressed it to his bare skin. “I—I can’t deny it.” Her palm touched the taut nub of his nipple, then suddenly pulled away.
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