Cameron would touch her and taste her and then send her back to her ineffectual husband sated and happy. At least one night of this be-damned house party wouldn’t be so tedious.
He tilted her head back and brushed his lips gently to her mouth. Mrs. Douglas started in surprise but didn’t push away. Cameron coaxed her lips open, deepening the kiss.
Pleasant fire spun through him when Mrs. Douglas dipped her tongue into his mouth, hesitant, but beautifully curious. His lady was unpracticed, as though she’d not kissed like this in a long time, but Cameron could tell she’d done it at least once. He cupped her head in his hand and let her explore.
Cameron broke the kiss to lick across her lips, finding the moisture between them honey sweet. He transferred his mouth to her throat while he undid the hooks on the back of her bodice. The silk easily parted, his hands pushing down the fabric so he could lean in and kiss her bosom. Mrs. Douglas’s soft sound of pleasure made his arousal jump, the need to hurry beating through his brain. But Cameron didn’t want to hurry. He wanted to go slowly, to savor every moment.
He let the bodice crumple to her waist, and with the ease of practice, slid his hand to the laces of her corset.
Ainsley thought she’d burn up and die. This was not what she’d meant to happen—she meant to be far from this chamber before Lord Cameron returned for the night. But now Lord Cameron coaxed to life sensations she thought she’d never feel again.
The necklace she’d taken from Cameron’s dressing table was safely buttoned into the pocket of her petticoat. She’d nearly tucked it into her bosom, but the emeralds were bulky, and she’d feared the outline would show against her bodice. Luckily for her she had changed her mind, or Cameron’s roving fingers would have already found it.
The necklace belonged to one Mrs. Jennings, a widowed friend of Ainsley’s brother. Mrs. Jennings had tearfully confided in Ainsley that she’d left her necklace in Cameron’s chamber, and now the very bad man would not let her have it back. He was blackmailing her over it, she claimed. Mrs. Jennings feared exposure, scandal. Ainsley, outraged at Cameron’s behavior, had offered to fetch it for her.
She understood now why Mrs. Jennings had fallen for Lord Cameron’s seduction. Cameron’s tall body dwarfed hers, his hands so large that Ainsley’s were lost in them. But instead of being frightened, Ainsley felt right in the curve of his arms, as though she’d been made to fit him.
Dangerous, dangerous thoughts.
Cameron pressed kisses to Ainsley’s neck. She touched his hair, marveling at the rough silk of it. His breath was furnace-hot, his mouth a place of fire, and Ainsley burned.
The corset’s laces parted, and Cameron glided his hand inside her chemise and down her back.
Reality hit Ainsley with a slap. The notorious Cameron Mackenzie was parting her clothes with skilled, seductive hands, preparing to take her to bed. But Ainsley Douglas was not a courtesan or a wild-living lady free to make her own choices. She’d married respectably, thanks to her brother’s quick thinking, and her elderly husband waited for her in their chamber.
John would be sitting with his slippered feet stretched to the fire, had probably already dozed off over his newspapers. His tousled gray head would be slumped in sleep, his spectacles askew on his nose. So kind, so patient, was John Douglas, knowing that his young wife had more interesting things to do than be with him. Ainsley’s heart broke.
“I can’t.” The words dragged from her, everything she thought right forcing them out. “I can’t. My lord, I’m so sorry.”
Cameron stilled, mouth on her neck, hand on her bare back.
“My husband is a good man,” she whispered. “A very good man. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Damn it, something inside Cameron cried out. Damn it all to hell.
His entire body fought him as he lifted his hands away. Cameron knew women, knew when their bodies craved a man’s touch. Mrs. Douglas wanted what Cameron offered, that was apparent, despite the anguish swimming in her gray eyes. Cam smelled her readiness faintly behind the roses and knew that if he took her, he’d find her slick and open for him.
Her husband obviously hadn’t been satisfying her needs. Whether he wouldn’t or couldn’t didn’t matter; he wasn’t, or this lady would not be so ready to seek Cameron.
And yet, Mrs. Douglas was saying no for this husband’s sake. It took a rare courage to make such a decision, strength that most of Cam’s women didn’t have. Those women wanted satiation and weren’t much bothered by who they hurt to get it.
Cameron tugged Mrs. Douglas’s corset back together and laced it closed and then fastened her bodice. He turned her to face him again and traced her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“Go tell your good man how lucky he is, Mrs. Douglas.”
“I am truly sorry, my lord.”
Good lord, Cameron had tried to seduce her, and she was apologizing to him. Cameron had wanted pleasure, pure and simple, the mind-blanking fire of coupling. Nothing more. He’d assumed she sought that as well. Now she looked worried that she’d caused him inconvenience.
Cameron leaned and pressed another kiss to her parted lips, lingering until the last possible moment. “Go on, now.”
Mrs. Douglas nodded, smiling her gratitude. Gratitude, God help him.
Cameron walked her to the door and opened it, kissed her damp lips once more, and guided her out. When Mrs. Douglas turned around to say something, he shook his head and shut the door, turning the key in the lock.
He pressed his forehead to the door’s cool panels, listening to her patter away down the empty hall. “Good night, lass,” he whispered.
Cameron spent the rest of the night on his bed, fully dressed, downing glass after glass of whiskey. He wasted much time trying not to fantasize about pretty young Mrs. Douglas and where the seduction would have gone. He failed utterly.
The fantasies wrapped him in a glow of warmth well into the next day as Cameron watched Mrs. Douglas. Her husband was tall and bony, awkward with her, though he lingered near her as though he needed to be reassured by her constant presence. Mrs. Douglas was kind to him, Cameron noticed. She didn’t treat him with disdain. He also noticed the Mrs. Douglas studiously avoided any eye contact with Cameron.
What a wild affair Cameron could have with her—every night something new. He’d buy jewels to drape her naked body and scented oils to slide onto her skin. He’d be discreet, something Cameron rarely bothered with. He’d convince Mrs. Douglas that her husband would never be hurt by anything they did. They’d meet in secret, perhaps alone in Cameron’s carriage, while they explored and tasted and thoroughly learned each other. Their liaison would be glorious, stuff to think on for years to come.