“Yes, very kind,” Delia said. “Not that you had much choice, after such a broad hint from Lord Carlisle. Are the ladies invited, or is this to be a gentleman’s party?”
“Ladies as well, of course.” Cam returned his gaze to Eleanor. “What enjoyment is there in a party without ladies?”
Eleanor stared back at him.A hunting party. They would be three days at least, and when they returned, her two weeks’ grace period would be nearly up. She’d be forced to accept Camden West’s proposal, or see Charlotte left to the tender mercies of the ton.
She could refuse to go, but she doubted Mr. West would let her slip though his fingers so easily, and in any case it was plain she couldn’t trust her brothers to dismiss her unwanted suitor. If she wanted him gone, she’d have to get rid of him herself.
Very well. She’d go to Lindenhurst, but she’d make quite sure to turn the visit to her advantage. The gentlemen would be off hunting every day. Who knew what she could uncover about Camden West in that time? Lindenhurst must have servants, and servants had secrets.
Eleanor glanced across the table at him. He met her gaze and held it as he wrapped his long fingers around his wineglass and raised it to his lips. Before he took a sip, he tilted it subtly in her direction in a mocking toast.
Eleanor’s heated skin cooled to an icy chill. What a fool she was, to believe even for a moment he might desire her. He cared only that he succeeded in forcing her into this sham of a marriage, whatever it took.
I don’t matter. Is that what youmean, Mr. West?
The wine burned its way down her throat.
That’s what he’d meant, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to forget it again.
Chapter Thirteen
“You don’t care for sweets, or from what I could see at dinner, food of any kind, and you don’t appear to care for chess, music or conversation. May I ask, my lady, what exactly you do care for?”
For a moment she went still, as if she could evade such a dull-witted predator if she didn’t move. When he didn’t go away, she laid aside her book with a heavy sigh and looked up at him.
“Perhaps I don’t care for anything at all.” She glanced toward the other end of the room, where the rest of the party was gathered, then lowered her voice. “You won’t wish to be married to such a dull lady, one with no pleasure in food, music or entertainment. A sad prospect, indeed. Don’t you agree?”
“Not at all.” He came around the edge of the settee and seated himself next to her. He left a respectable space between them, but he lowered his voice and held her eyes as he murmured, “I’m certain I’ll find a way to give you pleasure.”
Her eyes went darker as her pupils dilated, and a faint flush rose in her cheeks. She knew what he was thinking now, just as she’d known it at dinner.
Cam’s mouth went dry as the dainty wash of color spread over her cheekbones and drifted down her throat. Such a delicious pale pink hue, but not what he’d expect for a lady with her lush coloring. He wanted a deeper color, one that matched those black currant lips and dark, silky hair. A heated surge of warm red she felt everywhere, not just on her face and neck.
What would it take to get a true blush out of her?
The room, the music and the snatches of conversation floating toward them faded into insignificance. Nothing else mattered to him but finding out. His gaze drifted over her face, then down to the place where the silk neckline of her gown met her smooth skin. “Such pleasure, my lady, and my privilege and honor to be the one to give it to you.”
Her eyes went wide and she lifted a hand to her bosom, as if to shield herself from his gaze. “You take delight in teasing me, Mr. West.”
She meant to scold him, but such a low, husky whisper from such plump red lips turned the words into an invitation.
He held her gaze. “Iwilltease you, touch every inch of your skin with my fingers, my lips, but my delight will come when I can take you at last, and it will be your delight, too, I promise you.”
Her lips parted on a gasp.
The sound touched his chest, his belly, his cock, as if she’d dragged her palm over his skin. And, God, there it was, the blush he’d known was hidden beneath the girlish pink one.
Awoman’s blush.
He watched, riveted by that hot, deep surge of red. It flooded her face, throat and bosom then vanished under the neckline of her gown, hidden from his gaze and yet more enticing somehow, because he could imagine the way it would rush across her breasts and her soft belly, her thighs—
“You go too far, sir,” she said, but again her voice gave her away, for she couldn’t hide her breathlessness.
“Not as far as I’d like to go.”Not nearly as far. He’d like to slip his hands under her skirts, wrap his fingers around her ankles and ease her flat onto her back on the settee. Then he’d slide his hands up her calves, coax her knees wide, skim his palms higher, to the inside of her thighs, then higher still, until his fingers brushed against her—
“Too far, nonetheless,” she hissed, the breathlessness giving way to panic.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the fireplace, but no one else in the room seemed to take any notice of them. Charlotte Sutherland continued to play the pianoforte. Lady Carlisle and Lady Catherine listened and chatted while Lily Sutherland watched her husband and Lord Carlisle play at chess.
