Chapter Seven

In the foyer, Cam untangled his fingers from hers and took the time to refold the umbrella and place it in the stand to drip-dry. Then he turned his attention to Jade.

She was already shivering, her dark hair plastered to her pale skin, raindrops glistening on her cheeks. The sight made him want to kiss her again.

Dinnae be daft; literally everything makes ye want to kiss her again. Birdsong? Kissing Jade. Last quarter's profits? Kissing Jade. A broken arm? Kissing Jade. The maharajah's elephants? That's right, kissing Jade. Ye've got a one-track mind.

That had been Crowe's phrase for him, teasing Cam when they'd been in school. Or rather, not tease, because the man's wit was so dry it was practically parched, but still. He'd been right; Cam had a one-track mind.

One corner of his lips pulled up wryly. What could he say? He was a rake through and through, in spite of his vow.

But that wasn't going to warm her, because he wasn't going to let himself touch her again. But he could help her.

"Go get changed," he demanded, "before ye freeze to death." Her white blouse was plastered to her, and he wished he'd had the foresight to grab that jacket she'd worn her first day here. It would've offered protection from the rain…and from his gaze.

Her teeth were chattering when she grinned at him. "You as well. Do you have any idea how fine you look in wet cotton?" Her gaze raked across his shoulders. "I hadn't realized fencing was such sufficient exercise."

When had he told her he fenced? Cam shook his head, feeling water spraying from his hair. "I enjoy calisthenics and boxing as well. Now go."

He shooed her toward the bedroom, and when she peeked over her shoulder to give him a definite come-hither smile, he knew he was going to have to be stronger.

It wasn't an encouraging thought. He wasn't used to refraining from kissing women.

In the kitchen, he set a kettle of water to boil. Years ago, he'd had water pipes run to the kitchen to make Mrs. Higgins' life easier, but he was beginning to really regret not doing so to the small chamber off his bedroom which had been designated the bathing room.

A hot bath sounded lovely right now, but what he likely needed was a cold one.

By the time the water was hot, he'd stripped from his wet shirt and kilt, and had tugged on a pair of trousers from his bag he'd moved out of the bedroom when Jade had moved in. It had been an uncomfortable experience, since apparently the cold dousing hadn't diminished his cockstand one bit. The idea of pulling a new shirt over wet skin made him shiver, so he hung a towel around his shoulders after he dried his hair as best he could.

Then, using one corner of the towel to protect his hand, he lifted the kettle and made his way toward the bedroom.

The door was shut, thank fook, so he couldn't see her changing. As much as he wanted to, he knew he shouldn't, not if he wanted to maintain control. Besides, the thought of those long legs, kicking out of the sodden skirt, or slipping into clean stockings, was going to keep him awake all night.

He took a deep breath and knocked. "Jade? I have some hot water for you to wash with. I'll leave it out here."

A moment, and then, "Could you bring it in, please?"

Wincing, Cam reached for the latch. But when he pushed open the door and stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat.

She hadn't changed into dry clothes.

Oh, she'd stripped from her wet things—Cam had glanced them hanging on the wall before his gaze had been dragged, almost inevitably, back to her—but instead of a dry gown, she'd donned a robe. A silk robe in pale purple, the kind meant to go on over a nightgown.

It wasn't designed for warmth. It was designed for showing off a woman's figure. And from the way she stood in the center of the room, her hands on her hips, her damp hair curling about her shoulders, she knew it.

God Almighty, he could see her nipples through the fabric, two tight little buds begging for his mouth.

"Are ye no' cold?" he blurted, then winced again, knowing perfectly well she was cold.

"Yes," she purred, beginning a slow stalk toward him, her hips swaying erotically. "But I can think of a way you could warm me."

Desperate to prevent her from doing something she would regret, Cam held the kettle out, between them. "Aye, I brought hot water, remember?"

She stopped in her advance, confusion flickering across her expression. "Put it on the table, then."

Like a schoolboy called to task by his bitter stepfather, Cam slid along the walls of the room to deposit his burden, then edged back toward the door, his eyes never leaving her, as if waiting for her to pounce. Maybe he was.

"Cam," she said in a low, confused voice. "You kissed me."

"Ye kissed me," he hurried to correct her. "I kissed ye back."

"Yes, but clearly you enjoyed it."

Oh fook. Her gaze had dropped to his trousers when she'd said this, and when her tongue dragged across her lips, he felt his pelvis jerk forward, as if tied to an invisible string.

"Lass, stop," he managed in a hoarse voice. "Ye dinnae want this."

Unreadable gray eyes flicked back to his. "Oh, but I do. I thought I'd made that very clear."

And that's when she untied her robe. Cam reached for the edge of the doorframe to hold himself steady, because when she lifted her hands to brush the silk from her shoulders, his knees went weak.

"Cam," she whispered, holding his gaze, "I do want this. I want you. I haven't been able to get that night out of my head, and the things you did to me. For me. I want to feel that way again."

Holy fook ye're fooking fooked so hard.

His fingers tightened around the doorjamb, the bite reminding him to be strong.

"Ye…" He swallowed, and tried again. "Ye dinnae want to be married, remember?"

"I want you," she repeated.

And that's when the robe fell off.

Cam's eyes closed on a curse, his dry throat working silently, but not before the vision across the room was burned into his mind.

Long, strong legs, taught stomach, pert tits standing proud, those nipples straining toward him…

He groaned and dropped his forehead against the wood of the door, knowing he couldn't resist her plea.

But he couldn't forsake his vow, either.

Eyes still closed, strong oak cool against his skin, Cam hoarsely commanded, "Get on the bed."

There was a rustle of fabric, and he could imagine the mattress bending slightly under her weight, imagine her long, firm limbs supporting herself…

"I'm ready," she murmured breathlessly.

He knew she was waiting for him, but couldn't weaken. Instead he squeezed his eyes tighter, trying not to picture her eager anticipation.

And failing.

He had to clear his throat before he spoke. "Lie back, Treasure." He waited a moment, then, "Are yer hands cold?"

A pause, then he heard, "Yes."

"Warm them," he ordered. "Put them in front of yer mouth, and blow on them." That's how he would warm them, if he could. "Curl them around each other, think of them in my hands."

He could hear her breathing, and he hummed in approval.

"Use them, now. Touch yer jaw. Drag yer fingers down yer neck. The places ye want my lips." He shuddered, eyes still clenched closed. "Can ye feel me, lass?" he asked hoarsely.

"I can," she whispered, sounding strained. "I want to feel your kisses. Here. Here. Here."

Dinnae open yer eyes, ye dobber. Dinnae open yer—

Too late.

How was he supposed to ignore the lure of here here here? He wanted—needed—to see where she was imagining his lips.

Holy fooking God, her fingers were splayed across the tops of her tits, dragging her touch back and forth as she stared defiantly at him.

Cam swallowed heavily and shifted his weight, his cock straining against the front of his trousers. His grip on the doorframe the only thing holding him upright.

"Yer nipples," he managed. When her eyes widened, he cleared his throat. "Touch yer nipples. Pinch them. Tug at— Fook, aye, like that."

She remembered the way he'd touched her in the mirror. Either that, or she was a fast learner who knew what she liked.

He watched her roll her nipples between both thumbs and forefingers, the little buds appearing painfully hard. Jade was chewing on her bottom lip, as if to hold in her moans.

"Nay, lass," he instructed. "I want to hear yer pleasure. Dinnae hide it from me."

With a gasp, her lip flew from between her teeth, and she arched upward, as if her tugs on her nipples were pulling her body off the bed.

And she moaned.

It sounded so fooking perfect.

Cam licked his own lips, his free hand instinctively dropping to the bulge in his trousers. Nay, this is about her.

"Spread yer legs," he rasped, and she complied.

With her heels against the counterpane, she spread her knees, lifting her arse off the bed, allotting him the most beautiful view of her cunny, already glistening with need.

Unable to help himself, he closed his fingers around the front of his trousers, his cock aching to spring free.

He swallowed, remembering the way those inner lips tasted, remembering the way she'd come apart with his tongue inside her. "Touch yerself," he commanded. "Drag yer finger along yer folds. I want to see it."

She didn't hesitate to obey.

With one hand still fondling her tit, Jade dropped the other to her curls. One long, slender finger dipped into her wet core, then dragged upward, toward her clitoris.

They both sucked in a breath when she reached it, when she brushed against it once, twice. The pad of her finger worked the bud, and she let out a little whimper, which caused his fingers to tighten instinctively around his cock.

God Almighty, he wanted to stroke himself. Nay, he wanted to cross the room, to lean over her, to place his mouth where her fingers were, to plunge into her again and again.

But he wouldn't.

"That's it, Treasure," he choked, his gaze riveted to the sight of that finger, dipping in and out of her curls. "Are ye imagining my hands on ye?"

"Your lips," she groaned. "Kissing me here and here." A second finger joined the first. "Your fingers, stroking me into—" She broke off with another moan.

He made a little noise of approval, which caused her to whimper. Her back arched again, and she took her tit full in her hand and squeezed.

"Wider," he ordered, forcing his voice to work. "Spread yer legs wider." He waited until she complied. "Now use both hands. Touch yer beautiful cunny for me, Jade."

She slid her palms down her stomach to her curls, then down the insides of her thighs and back, as if she were teasing both of them. With her thumb and forefinger of each hand, she spread her outer lips, putting herself on display for him.

The glistening evidence of her arousal was plain, and Cam ached to be inside her. "Where do ye want me?"

"Here," she immediately answered, her eyes closed and her head thrown back. "I want your fingers here." She stroked herself. "I want them inside me."

"Can ye feel yer pleasure mounting, lass?" The side of his fingers rubbed at his own arousal. "Building inside ye, ready to break free?"

"Yes!" she gasped. "Cam, please!"

"Push yer fingers inside yerself, Treasure," he demanded. "Like ye do when ye're alone at night. Except now, I'm watching."

She hesitated, her eyes flying open as she met his gaze. He saw her swallow, saw her legs quiver with desire, and then…she obeyed him.

As he watched, she pushed first one, then two fingers into her slick core, curling them instinctively upward and toward her, so she could press the base of her palm where the pressure was building.

"Does that feel good?" he murmured.

She whimpered and dropped her head back again. "So good."

"Slide them out again. Now…in."

She obeyed, this time using her third and fourth fingers, so she could hold her lips spread with the outer digits. The other hand rose and began to tease her clitoris, and she moaned again, a breathless little whimper Cam knew he'd never tire of.

He realized he was holding his own breath, and forced himself to inhale. With her eyes closed, it appeared she was in her own world, and he resisted the urge to pleasure himself. Nay, he wanted to watch this, to enjoy this, so later… Later, he could remember this. Remember her.

Her movements grew more frantic, as she played with her bud and finger-fooked herself. She was approaching her orgasm.

"Ye're close, Treasure." It wasn't a question. He could see the evidence in the way her muscles strained, in the dripping arousal clinging to her fingers. "So close. Do ye want to come?"

"Yes! Please!" she groaned, her fingers working frantically in and out.

"Do it," he growled. "Come for me."

With a moan that turned into a keen, Jade's arse clenched, her thighs tightened, and he watched as she froze, her fingers deep inside her. Slowly, her knees closed, trapping her hand between her legs.

Panting now, she rolled to one side, her fingers still trapped inside her, and when she began to thrust against her own touch, Cam cursed silently, his own fingers tightening around his desperate cock.

She was curled on the bed, fooking her own fingers, at his command. And he could do nothing more than watch.

Finally, with a heaving gasp, Jade wrenched her hands away from herself and flopped, boneless, against the mattress. She was breathing heavily, and Cam saw moisture at the corners of her closed eyes.

Ye did that.

Ye did that to her.

Nay, for her. Right?

With another silent curse, Cam made himself loosen his white-knuckled grip on the doorframe, made himself turn away.

Aye, he was running. But he had to…or they'd both regret the outcome.

***

That was…

Exhilarating.

Wonderful.

Empowering.

Embarrassing as hell.

Wait, what?

Look at you, splayed out like some kind of banquet. He didn't once touch you.

He didn't need to. She'd found ecstasy all on her own.

It could've been better.

Yes, if he'd been a part of it.

But…he'd stood on the other side of the room, he'd watched her. He'd ordered her—and she'd obeyed! He'd said such wonderfully erotic things…and she'd experienced an orgasm to rival the ones he'd given her that first night.

And he hadn't even touched her.

That realization made her feel perversely proud and achingly hollow at the same time.

Suddenly cold, whereas moments ago she'd been so very hot, Jade pulled her knees to her chest, and wondered if it was possible to forget the last few minutes. Wondered if she wanted to.

Get up. Go to him.

She wasn't one to shy away from a problem, or a mystery. She needed to understand Cam MacKay…especially in relation to what had just happened.

So she forced herself upright, shaking her hands to will some life back into her limbs, which still felt a gentle buzzing. She washed in the warm water he'd brought for her, and dressed in the only gown she'd brought along for this trip.

It was a pale blue, one of her favorites, and she thought it did nice things for the odd color of her eyes. When she'd planned for this journey, she'd assumed she'd be here for no more than a day or two, and had packed accordingly. With just the two of them in The Cottage, she hadn't felt ashamed to be wearing the same skirt and rotating her simple blouses, the ones she wore to her office.

It was strange, to be so comfortable so far away from London and her company. She had handpicked the men who were overseeing Thacker Shipping in her absence, and she wasn't uncomfortable knowing they were in charge. She hadn't told them how long she'd be gone, so they likely weren't worried…and she had to admit the last few days had been relaxing.

Because of him.

Cam, who'd made her come apart, without even touching her.

That was why now, she wanted to feel powerful. So she donned the gown, and pulled her hair back in the simple tail she wore when she visited the fencing club. It wasn't a flattering style, but it was easy to accomplish alone, and she needed to hurry.

To see him.

Still, by the time she stepped into the parlor, he'd obviously found time to change as well. He was fully dressed—which was a shame, because she would've liked the chance to stare at his chest some more, even if most of it had been covered by that towel he'd draped around his shoulders before he'd come into her room. He stood with his back to her in front of one of the windows, facing the sea.

The rain had started up again, pounding at the panes of glass with a vengeance, which made her glad they'd ventured outside when they had. And not because of the kiss.

Well, fine, not just because of the kiss.

Perhaps she made some noise, because he turned. His curls were still damp, and he held a glass in his hand—brandy, she guessed. He seemed partial to the sweet drink. Her eyes darted to the side, and sure enough, a small plate with the last of yesterday's cookies rested on the table.

Cam shifted his weight, as if unsure what to say, then jerked his chin toward the window. "The storm returned."

"Yes," she said awkwardly, hovering in the doorway.

He cleared his throat, then turned back to the view. "The window is beginning to leak. I'm worried."

A safe subject, at least. "Where?" She hurried across the room, and he pointed to where the glass met the frame.

"All through here, and across the top, see? The window is much older than the thatch—I just had that redone—and I suppose the constant pounding from the wind offshore is causing it to weaken."

Humming, Jade dragged her finger through the puddle of water which had collected. "I admit, I expected the thatch to give way before this onslaught…"

Scoffing good-naturedly, Cam shook his head and gestured with the brandy. "This is fine Scottish thatch, Miss Thacker. It will stand up to a wee breeze."

Her smile was almost shy. "Bracing sea air, hmm?"

"Aye." He stilled, staring down at her, his knuckles white around his glass.

She wondered what he was thinking. Wondered if he was fighting the urge to touch her, as she was him.

She had to know.

Blowing out a breath, she lifted her chin and met his eyes. "Cam, why did you not come to me?"

He jerked forward, but didn't reach for her. Instead he swallowed and looked away.

She didn't want to hear his denial. "In the bedroom. I wanted you. I wanted you to be with me. But…"

Was this shame? This warm feeling fading through her limbs? She wasn't certain. She reached out and touched his arm, but he jerked back.

Yes, definitely shame.

"Cam?" she asked again, her throat choked with hurt.

Without looking at her, he turned, slammed the brandy down on the table beside the cookies, and stalked toward the center of the room. "What do ye want me to say, Treasure?" The words burst out of him in frustration as he dragged his hands through his hair. "Ye want me to tell ye how badly I wanted to climb onto that bed with ye, to taste ye?"

He still wasn't looking at her, so she felt safe whispering, "Yes."

He blew out a breath, tugging at his curls. "Well, it's true. Hardest fooking thing I've done, keeping my hands to myself today." His arms dropped to his sides, his chin sunk to his chest. "And yesterday. And the day before."

The admission sent a jolt of something—pride? Excitement?—through her, but she hesitated to go to him. Instead, she crossed to the sofa where he'd been sleeping, and perched on the edge of the cushion.

"Why, Cam? I thought ye were…" She swallowed, not certain how to form the words.

"A whore?" He huffed mirthlessly, staring down at the small blaze he'd started in the hearth. "A courtesan. A rake."

Well… "A lover," she whispered.

Suddenly, he whirled, one finger outstretched accusingly. "Ye dinnae want to be married, remember, Jade? But we are, and as soon as it's safe to travel, ye and I are getting on a train to MacKay lands to confront my father, aye?"

She nodded, her hands held stiffly in her lap. "I'd like to know the truth."

"Aye, and if we are married, then it was against yer will, and an annulment will be easy enough to obtain." A tortured look came to his eyes as he crossed to the sofa, sinking down beside her. "I'll tell the judge the truth, Jade, dinnae doubt it. Ye'll no' have to stay married to the likes of me for verra long."

The likes of me.

Ai-ya, did the man not realize how wonderful he was?

With a soft smile, Jade reached for his hands, then scooted closer so she could clasp them in her lap as she held his gaze.

"And you think making love to me would make the annulment harder to obtain?"

He immediately nodded. "I'll say whatever is necessary, Treasure. I'm sorry my father's put ye in this situation, but ye'll no' have to endure it long, I swear."

"He put you in this situation too, Cam."

He glanced away, his attention fixed unconvincingly on the flames. "I find I dinnae mind it so much," he finally admitted.

And neither, to her surprise, did she.

Of course, it was difficult, not knowing what was going on back in London with Thacker Shipping. But she had her managers and her assistants, all of whom knew where she was, in case of an emergency. And if there was an emergency, at least the company had the capital now to handle it, thanks to the partner she'd taken on.

She took a deep breath and squeezed his hands. "What I said to you that night in the hotel…I was there because I was tired of feeling powerless. I want to use the money Gung Gung left me to grow Thacker Shipping. But if I'm married before my birthday—to a man who forces the issue, or to someone my uncle chooses—my husband will control that money."

"Ye…" He swallowed. "Ye had to take on a silent partner."

Oh yes, she'd told him that, hadn't she?

"I hate that I'm not in complete control, so I plan to buy the man out as soon as I gain the rest of my inheritance, and my lawyers find out his name. But in the meantime…" She quirked a wry smile and squeezed his hands. "Lord Buthert was becoming a nuisance, arriving at my office daily, surprising me at home, cornering me on the street. I was genuinely terrified he was going to try something, something which would force me to marry him before my birthday, so he would gain my inheritance."

"Buthert? I hate to say it, lass, but I can absolutely imagine him doing that."

Of course Cam knew him. Buthert had been at the club the day she'd sparred with Cam, and had called out that rude comment about Cam's concentration. But the fact he knew Buthert meant his opinion was likely right. "Yes, I don't think it was so far-fetched as a fear. But…" She blew out a breath. "I'm making a mess of this explanation."

"Keep trying, lass."

And she could tell, from his sincere expression, that he meant it. So she took a deep breath and tried again.

"I don't object to marriage, Cam, as long as it is my decision. But that money was left to me, and I intend to use it to keep my father's company—my company—running strong. Then your father began to hint at a marriage between me and you—a man I only knew from his letters—to solve my problems, and I felt so…"

"Trapped," he murmured.

She met his eyes. "That night, you gave me power. You gave it back to me. I needed that. But you also…" She struggled to explain. "You did something to me. Since then, I haven't been able to…" She shook her head. "You changed me," she repeated.

"And today?" He quirked a brow at her.

It was impossible to know if he'd understood her, but she smiled. "Yes, today was wonderful, again. Thank you."

"God Almighty," he muttered, slumping. "I've turned ye insatiable."

Her sudden peal of laughter took her by surprise, and she flopped back beside him. "Yes, I suppose you have." She took a deep breath and twined her fingers through his "My point is, I like to be in control of my life. I hated that Lord Buthert was trying to force me into a situation I couldn't control, and then to have your uncle do the same…"

As she shook her head, he squeezed her fingers.

"Ye'll no' have to stay married to a man like me, Treasure," he vowed. "Or Buthert."

Was he putting himself in the same category as that snake? "Buthert is a vile opportunist who'll stop at nothing to get what he wants."

"Aye, a sack of diseased cow shite."

She cocked a brow at Cam. "How well do you know him?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't trust him to back down, no matter what obstacles you put in his way."

"Yes," she sighed. "That was your father's thinking as well. Hence the marriage suggestion."

"Hence the marriage by proxy," Cam corrected.

She turned her head so her cheek was pressed against the hard back of the sofa, and she was staring at him. "Yes," she murmured softly. "But as you say, it isn't so bad."

His gaze was on her lips. "Nay," he whispered, leaning forward almost unconsciously. "Much better than a life as Lady Buthert."

Her lips curled. "True." She held her breath, hoping he was going to kiss her.

That's when the glass panes surrendered to the force of the storm, and the window blew in.