Far too quickly, Pen faced Cam in the library where a few nights ago, they’d shared such blazing passion. She tried not to remember how he’d pounded into her. But it was impossible. The experience had marked her soul. She’d treasure it until the day she died.
“Cam, I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” she began, still clinging to his hand. Silly to find that innocent contact so affecting after the wanton things they’d done to each other.
He stood close, blocking her view of everything but him. What was new? Since she was a little girl, she’d only ever seen him.
“You’re sorry?” His voice sounded choked.
Oh, no, he really was livid. She braced for temper and closed her eyes.
“Are you afraid?” he asked, still in that raw voice.
She swallowed to moisten a mouth dry with terror. And lied. “Of course not.”
“You looked like you weren’t afraid of anything when you told that cow Lady Phillips to shut her mouth.”
“She made me so angry.” Pen spoke quickly before her courage evaporated. “I know I said I’d behave. I know I said I’d do my best to be a proper duchess. But she was so mean.”
“And you couldn’t bear to hear her deriding me.”
“No.” She opened her eyes, dreading what she’d find.
There was a light in Cam’s eyes that she’d never seen before. He raised his hand to cup her face. “Nobody’s ever defended me like that. You were magnificent.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
My darling, you took such a risk coming here.” In the drawing room of the Russell Square house, Harry flung his arms around Sophie. Outside, everything was quiet. This wasn’t an area that bustled after dark.
“I know.” Trembling with innocent fervor, she pressed against him. “If my brother finds out where I am, he won’t send me to Northumberland, he’ll send me to the moon.”
“When I got your message, I couldn’t believe it.” Harry kissed her softly, then returned to taste her more thoroughly. Her sweet, floral scent made him feel like he’d overindulged in champagne.
“I couldn’t stay away.” Sophie was supposedly at a lecture at the British Museum with a party of friends. At least so she’d told her brother. She’d cried off at the last minute and made her way to this house.
He stared into her face. Guilt darkened her lovely eyes.
“The lies make you feel bad.”
Her jaw firmed. “I’d feel worse if I didn’t see you. Since I promised to consider Desborough’s proposal with a view to acceptance, James hasn’t been nearly so watchful.”
“Which makes you feel worse.”
A hint of her delightful smile curved her pink lips. Pink lips he wanted to spend an eternity kissing. These stolen meetings wore on him too. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I? I pursue a romantic intrigue, but I can’t bear secrets. Yet secrets are at the core of an intrigue.”
Harry laughed, although only the lowest worm in creation would tarnish this girl’s honesty. Then he asked the question that always made him want to smash his fist into the wall. “How long do we have?”
She stroked his face. “A couple of hours.”
“I’ve got things to tell you.” He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. If she kept touching him, any hope of sensible discussion would vanish like dew in sunlight. Or perhaps, given his heated reaction, like paper in fire.
“Talk later. I want to kiss you.”
He smiled at her, dazzled by her beauty and ardor. “Sweetheart, if I kiss you, I’ll forget I’m a gentleman.”
“I’ll remind you.”
He regarded her with a cynical eye. “I don’t trust you.”
“Of course you do.” She pouted theatrically.