“Yes, marriage. The legal type of arrangement.”
She ignored the taunt. “You are a rebel, a rogue, and a backwoods adventurer, sir, and I cannot begin to take such an idea even remotely seriously. You are the last man that I should ever wish to marry. You thought that you could frighten me and bully me in Boston; well, you cannot do so here! You must know what I feel for you, and I cannot begin to wonder what it is that you can possibly feel for me.”
He laughed. “Your father took my offer very seriously. And as for my feelings, why, I am enchanted.”
She flushed and stared up at the stars. “You are no better than Robert. You are ruled by lust.”
She saw the hint of his smile. “Lust? Your word, milady, and so I will admit to a fair amount of it. But perhaps I see more. A heart that drums a different beat, eyes that dare the very devil.”
“And are you the devil? So goes your reputation, Lord Cameron.”
“No devil, lady. Just a man in lust.”
Amanda moved back, hugging her arms more tightly about herself, wondering if his agreement with her father could possibly be true. All of Virginia’s society, or their society at least, was up in arms against Lord Cameron. Although Cameron Hall was a magnificent estate, and he owned endless acres of cotton and tobacco and produce, and had a pedigree that went back to the Dark Ages, dissension was in the air, and he was turning his back on his own kind to join up with rebels.
“I don’t believe you!” she whispered again, but she said it more quietly. “My father did not—agree to a marriage!”
“Milady, I do not lie,” he told her. He walked toward her, and she wanted to turn and run. She hated to be a coward, but at that moment she wanted to run, and still she could not. It was not courage at all that kept her still, it was something about the way he looked at her.
He stopped several feet before her and reached out gently. She thought that he was going to sweep her into his arms again, but he did not, and for the life of her, she did not know if she was relieved or disappointed. She could not breathe properly, and it seemed that the very masculine scent of him was not just around her, but part of her, and that she would never forget it or forget his power. He touched just her cheek, his knuckles running over the softness of it, his hand then falling to his side. “But neither shall I force the issue. If you are adamantly opposed to me, milady, then the matter is solved. However, I do suggest that you think carefully before accepting Lord Tarryton’s…proposition.”
Heedlessly she tried to strike him again. He was quick, catching her hand before it could land upon him. He turned her wrist slowly, drawing a finger over the valley of her palm, then pressing his lips against it. Her breath came in a rush and her heart pounded and again. She wanted nothing more than to escape him and the sensations of his touch.
“I told you, milady, you may not strike me again.”
She smiled very sweetly. “Being a loyalist’s mistress might be preferable to a life as a traitor’s wife.”
“Really? I think that you’re sadly mistaken. About yourself, Lady Sterling, if nothing else. Young Tarryton is a boy, playing at a man’s games. He isn’t for you. He’ll never be for you. He desires you, perhaps he even loves you. But he hasn’t the courage to fight for you, milady, and in the end you would be sadly disappointed.”
“Oh, I see. I’d never be disappointed in you, I presume?” she challenged him sarcastically.
“No,” he said. “You would not be disappointed in me. Had I set out to seduce you, milady, it would never have come to attempted rape, and in the outcome, I promise that you’d have been mine.”
She opened her mouth to protest with outrage, but she never spoke. He did touch her again then, hard and sure. He drew her against him and his lips found hers. She whimpered and pounded furiously against his chest, but he paid her no heed, and he gave her no quarter. His mouth closed upon hers with swift, searing hunger and his tongue penetrated deeply against her protest, filling her with a warmth that consumed all thought and reason. She whimpered and pressed herself against him, feeling dizzy and almost falling. But it didn’t matter, for as he continued to kiss her, he held her weight with ease. She thought briefly that he would never let her fall, and she realized that the overpowering heat that exploded throughout her emanated from some searing center of her being that had come alive tonight. It was unlike anything she had ever imagined before, this hot excitement that stirred her blood and swept from her lips to her breasts, and from her breasts to some secret place within her, near the juncture of her thighs, wickedly deep within her.
And then, abruptly, he released her, a negligent smile upon his lips. “You should marry me, milady, because I do believe that I could promise never to disappoint you.”
“I would fight you all of my life!” she exclaimed out, and then realized that it was she who still clung to him. She needed the support.
“You would fight me, but you would not be disappointed by me. Now, milady, if you’ll excuse me, I shall leave you to your own devices, since you are so capable.” He let her hand fall and bowed deeply to her, turning about to leave the maze.
Shaking, Amanda determined to have the last word. “You are a traitor, Lord Cameron! A traitor to the king, a traitor to your own kind!”
He turned back around, bowing deeply. “As you would have it, milady. Far be it that I should argue with your gentle tongue.”
He turned again and was gone.
Amanda sank down upon the bench, feeling the pressure of her tears come rushing to her eyes. She pressed her hands against them, determined not to cry. She was trembling still. He had awakened things inside of her, things she had never dared to dream of.…
And things she now despised.
She hated him. She had hated him in Boston, and she hated him now! How dare he come upon her so highhandedly again. He had known about Robert—dear God, all the world had known about Robert, all the world but she!
She touched her swollen lips, and all that she could remember was Eric Cameron’s touch. Yet it was true, the magic was gone, love was gone, and her belief in things beautiful and good and right was gone. Innocence had been cruelly slain, she thought, and then, despite her best intentions, tears did start to fall down her cheeks. Robert! How could he? How could he speak of his longing and desire for her and then tell her that yes, he did intend to marry the Duchess of Owenfield?
How could he suggest that she become his mistress?
Amanda wiped the tears from her cheeks and forced herself to stand and smooth down her gown. She dusted bits of leaves from her skirt and swallowed hard and touched her fingers to her hair.
