Indiscreet Part 15

"I am sure that I remember them with fully as much joy as you."

His smile broadened. "I cherish the knowledge that our esteem is mutual."

Camilla rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away. "I had thought we might go riding today," she said. "I could show you around Chevington Park. Would you like that?"

"Indeed I would," he answered honestly. It would provide a perfect opportunity for him to investigate the area. He had explored the house and grounds on foot yesterday, but he wanted to move farther afield. "I had thought to ask your cousin Anthony to take me on a tour this morning, but I understand that he left bright and early this morning and has not returned."

"I am sure Anthony would love to ride out with you another time, especially if you have an urge to see the limestone caves along the sh.o.r.e."

"Caves? You have some here on this estate?"

Camilla nodded. "They are everywhere here, some big, some small. Of course, Lydia and Grandpapa absolutely forbade Anthony and me from going inside them."

"Which no doubt guaranteed that you explored them."

Camilla chuckled. "Yes. Unfortunately, there is nothing very exciting in any of them. Anthony and I were always hopeful of treasure, but we never found any. He says that there are interesting formations farther back in one of them, but I have never gone that tar."

"That sounds like a sight not to be missed."

They finished their meal, and Benedict went up to change into riding clothes. Then they set out to explore the estate. The head groom, after a look at Benedict, put him up on a gray gelding, her grandfather's last acquisition for the stables, one that he had never had an opportunity to ride before he was laid low by his illness. Camilla almost protested, unsure how well Benedict could ride. But when she saw him mount the horse, she clamped her mouth shut on the words. He rode like one born to the saddle, controlling the animal easily with his muscled thighs and the most delicate of touches on the reins.

They rode to the cliffs at the edge of the ocean, where they reined in their horses and sat looking out.

"What is that?" Benedict asked, surprised, pointing across the water at a small hump of land rising out of the sea.

Most of the small island was covered by the ruins of an old building. Some walls still stood, as well as the remains of a turret, but much of the stone lay in tumbled heaps.

"That is Keep Island. The ruins are what is left of the original keep. It was the home of the Earls of Chevington for many, many years and quite a stronghold at one time, I believe. The water protected it, of course, and then there were stout, high walls with six towers, and inside them, the keep itself. It was abandoned long ago, though. It proved not to be very sociable or convenient in later times. They used nearly all the stones from the walls to build Chevington Park. What was left was scorched some years later by a fire-started, I understand, by my grandfather's father when he was a lad. As you see, we have always been a little p.r.o.ne to getting into trouble."

He smiled at her sally but turned his attention back to the ruins. "It looks very secure, but somewhat impractical. How did they get to it? I mean, it's too small for there to have been a village or for them to have raised crops or livestock."

"Ah, that's the beauty of it," Camilla replied, grinning. "It is an island only when the tide is high. When the tide is low, there is a strip of land that runs from the beach across to the island. So it is really an oddly shaped peninsula. When the tide rises, the causeway is covered up."

"How convenient."

"Yes. You can reach it by boat at any time. Anthony and I have often rowed across. But boats were much easier to defend against. Even when the tide was low, you had only that one narrow bridge of land on which enemies could ride across. It was never taken."

"When did they abandon it?"

"They started Chevington Park during the reign of Elizabeth and finished when James I was king. The keep's advantages were no longer very necessary, and they grew tired of the inconvenience. Besides, I imagine it would have been a damp and windy place to live. And the Chevingtons prospered greatly under the Tudors. They could afford to build a more luxurious, grander residence."

"I would like to visit it." It occurred to him that the ruins of the keep might be an excellent place for smugglers to store their loot. "It looks interesting."

"It is," Camilla replied cheerfully. "Sometime, when the tide is low, we can walk over. It isn't far, really, and walking is the easiest way. Would you like to see one of the caves?''

"Certainly."

"We are rather close to one of them. Anthony would be a better guide, but I shall do my humble best."

"I am sure that will be quite enough."

"Flatterer."

Camilla swung down off her horse, saying, "We have to lead them down to the beach. The path is narrow."

Benedict dismounted, too, and they walked down the steep trail to the beach. At the bottom they stopped, looking out across the narrow strip of sand to the pounding ocean. Camilla glanced up at her companion. He was staring moodily at the water.

"Who was she?" Camilla asked, surprising even herself with her boldness.

"Who?" Benedict looked at her blankly, for his treacherous first love had been the farthest thing from his mind at that moment.

"The girl who hurt you so. The one who has given you such a dark view of females."

"Oh." Benedict shrugged. "Her name was Annabeth." He tried to summon up her face, but he could not quite remember it clearly. Camilla's dusky curls and mischievous blue eyes kept imposing themselves over any picture of Annabeth's pale beauty.

"What happened?"

He started to dismiss her question with an icy retort; that was what he had done any other time anyone was impertinent enough to ask. He had never told anyone the full story, not even his sister or Sedgewick, though he suspected they had pieced together most of it. But, strangely, the walls did not come up inside him as they usually did, and he realized with a start that he did not mind telling Camilla.

"My uncle-the one I really do have-was an old man. He and his wife were childless, and, though she was younger than he, she was considered too old to bear a child. I was my uncle's heir. Then, amazingly, his wife became pregnant. Of course, given her age, no one expected her to give birth without complications. I met Annabeth shortly after I heard of my aunt's pregnancy, and we became engaged a few months later. Annabeth insisted that we keep it a secret. I didn't understand why, but I was too happy and foolish to care. To everyone's astonishment, my aunt carried the child to full term, and the child was born healthy. Then Annabeth told me that she could not marry me. When I pressed for a reason, she said that it was because I would no longer inherit from my uncle, since he now had a child of his own."

Camilla drew in her breath sharply. "She threw you over because you wouldn't get the money?"

He nodded. "Precisely. Of course, I understood then why she had wanted to keep the engagement secret. I think she had not known when we first met that my aunt was pregnant. Then, when she found out, she had put too much time into the project to just drop me, and she was hopeful that my aunt would lose the child. So she hedged her bets. She waited to see what the outcome of the pregnancy was. If my aunt had miscarried, or the baby had been born dead, Annabeth would have made the engagement public. But when my aunt bore the heir, Annabeth was able to break the engagement with no entanglements, since no one had known about it."

Impulsively Camilla curled her arm around his and squeezed it, leaning her head against his arm tenderly. "I'm sorry."

An odd quiver ran through Benedict at her affectionate gesture. He half turned, and she went naturally into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him. He held her tightly for a moment, struck by how good it felt and how little the memory of Annabeth hurt now. When she pulled back a moment later, he was reluctant to open his arms and let her go.

"I mean," Camilla said, stepping back and looking up at him, "that I am sorry for how bad you must have felt. But not sorry that she broke off the engagement. You know, you were lucky there. You should feel glad."

"I should?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Why, yes. What if you had remained your uncle's heir, and she had made the engagement public? Then you would have had to marry her-and you would not have found out what she was really like until you were tied to her for life. That would be much worse than having your heart broken, don't you think? To live with a woman so cold and deceptive?"

Benedict had to chuckle. He had hated the memory of Annabeth for years, had relived their time together and cursed her for the heartbreak he had felt. But he had never, in all this time, considered the matter from this angle. Trust Camilla to turn everything on its head.

"You're right," he told her. "You are absolutely right. I am a lucky man."

Camilla watched his face lighten with amus.e.m.e.nt, and she liked the way it looked. It pleased her to have made him smile. "You should laugh more often."

"I shall endeavor to work on it"

They rode their horses down the beach until they reached the mouth of the cave. Tying the horses to a low, weather beaten gorse bush, they ventured inside. Benedict had to duck to go through the entrance, but inside, the ceiling rose several feet above his head. Lit only by the sunlight coming through the entrance, the cave was dim, and they could not see to the back wall.

"It's too dark inside to go any farther," Camilla commented. "If you come back with Anthony, you will have to bring lanterns. It extends some distance."

She turned toward him and saw that he was looking at her, not their surroundings. "What? Why are you looking at me in that way?"

"What way?" His voice came out low and husky. Ever since her impulsive hug on the beach, he had not been able to stop thinking about taking her in his arms again. He wanted to feel her soft body against his again. He wanted to taste her mouth as he had the other day. He took a step forward.

Camilla's breath caught in her throat. There was something about the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, that made her knees feel suddenly weak. "I'm not sure. As if you were..." Hungry, "...ah, thinking about..."

"About what?" He took another step closer, his eyes still intent on her face. He looked down at her, so close to her that she could feel the heat of his body, yet not touching her.

"I-I'm not sure." Camilla could hardly speak or even think. She felt caught, trapped by the heat in his eyes.

"I was thinking about you." His hand came up, and he brushed his knuckles slowly down her cheek. "About how beautiful you are."

"Indeed, sir," she said with a breathless little giggle, trying vainly to reestablish the former tone of their conversation, "'tis too dark in here, I would think, for you to see anything."

He smiled slowly. "I can see that you are beautiful in sunlight or in shadow. You make it difficult to concentrate, Camilla."

She could have retorted that he had the same effect on her, but she could not summon the wit or the energy to speak. She could only look up at him as he reached out and curled his hands around her arms. He pulled her closer to him. Camilla went, unresisting. Benedict's gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower still, to the soft swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath the riding habit. He remembered the feel of the soft mounds beneath his fingers the other day in the garden, the taste of her lips, and he wanted to experience it again.

He knew that he was behaving like a fool. They were in a cave that was a perfect hideout for the smugglers, and instead of paying attention to it, he kept letting his eyes go to her. Worse, his thoughts seemed to stay there, too. It had been that way all morning- indeed, ever since their embrace in the garden. All the time he was talking to the servants or looking around the house and grounds, his mind had kept straying from smugglers back to kisses and clear blue eyes and a body as soft as her tongue was sharp.

Moreover, what he was thinking of was impossible. Camilla was not the sort of woman whom he could have and then leave, no seller of flesh, nor a dissatisfied wife or lonely widow who was interested in a casual affair, the only sort of women whose company he had allowed himself the last few years. No, she was an unmarried girl of good name, a virgin, no doubt, and despite the fact that she had gotten herself into this compromising situation, he could not in good conscience take advantage of it. To sleep with her would be to commit himself, and that was something he had vowed never to be so foolish as to do again.

But at this moment, he was having difficulty remembering his promises. There was something so entrancing about the white column of her throat...and that errant black curl that clung to her cheek...the softness of her arms beneath his hands. He realized that unconsciously his fingers had begun to caress those arms.

He told himself that he should leave, walk out of the cave and back to their horses. To stay here was insane.. .dangerous.

"To h.e.l.l with it," he murmured, and leaned closer.

Chapter 11.

Camilla took a shaky step backward but came up against the wall of the cave and stopped. He moved closer still and braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head. He ached to lean into her, to press his suddenly hard, throbbing flesh into her softness. Only a remnant of good sense kept him from doing so.

"You have a curious effect on me," he murmured, taking the straying curl between his fingers and gently rubbing it. The silken feel of it sent tendrils of heat curling through his abdomen.

"I do?" Camilla's voice came out breathless and high. All she could think about was how close he was and how she would like to trace the sensual curve of his lower lip with her finger.

Acting on the impulse, she reached up and ran her forefinger along his lip. It was smooth and warm, and the feel of it sent a s.h.i.+ver straight down through her. Benedict's eyes darkened, and he bent toward her until his head was almost touching hers. She could read the pa.s.sion in his eyes, and it stirred her.

He placed his lips where her curl had lain against her neck. Gently he nuzzled her skin, and s.h.i.+vers darted through her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she was aware only of the heat of his body so close to hers, the tingling of her skin where his lips touched it, the strange flowering of heat between her legs. His hand came up and cupped her breast. His thumb found and caressed her nipple through the cloth of her bodice. The little point elongated at his touch, engorged and hard, and her other breast ached for a similar touch. As if he knew, his other hand slid down and found her breast and began to gently knead it.

His mouth explored her throat at length, teasing and caressing, even gently nipping with his teeth, and with each new sensation the fire between Camilla's legs grew. She moved her legs a little apart, hoping to ease the heat. Feeling her movement, Benedict slipped his knee between hers, opening them more. Then, to her surprise, he put his hands beneath her hips and moved her up and forward, seating her firmly on his thigh.

Camilla gasped at the shock of pleasure that ran through her. He rocked her gently upon his iron-hard leg. She felt as if her loins had turned to flame. She whimpered, unconsciously moving her hips with the rocking of his hands, and moisture flooded between her legs. Benedict let out a low sound of satisfaction, pressing her even harder against him. He raised his head and sealed her mouth with his, tongue and lips taking hers with an almost savage ardor.

He filled her senses. She could not think, could scarcely breathe, rocked as she was by delightful sensations. She could not contain small animal noises of pa.s.sion, but Benedict swallowed them with his kiss. His lips sank deep into hers even as he pressed his leg harder against the very root of her desire. Camilla thought she might faint, yet her arms clung to him, pulling him more tightly against her. It was not enough, she knew; she wanted something more and harder. The very gate of her femininity ached and pulsated.

Now his mouth left hers, and her head lolled back against the cool rock wall. Her chest rose and fell heavily. He unb.u.t.toned the top few b.u.t.tons of her bodice and pulled it down, shoving down her chemise, as well, and exposing one lovely white orb. Benedict groaned and bent to take it in his mouth. He suckled on it, somehow both easing and increasing Camilla's ache. She dug her fingers into his scalp, murmuring, "Please, please," over and over in a sensual cadence, though she did not even know what it was she asked for.

Sensation was building between her legs, so delightful it was almost painful. She longed for something, felt as if she were racing toward it, and yet it remained maddeningly out of her reach. She moved frantically against his leg, unable to control the little moans and pants that escaped her throat. She felt as if she were tumbling out of control toward something that she could only guess at.

Outside the cave, one of the horses whickered, followed by the indistinct murmur of a man's voice. The sounds penetrated the haze of their desire. Camilla stiffened. Benedict groaned and stepped back, fighting to regain control. Outside, there was a masculine laugh and the sc.r.a.pe of a bootheel.

Benedict grabbed Camilla's hand and moved deeper into the darkness of the cave. They turned a corner. Beyond them lay only impenetrable blackness. They had to stop. Camilla slumped back against the wall, still stunned by the force of the emotions that had moved through her.

Benedict looked down at her. She had not made a move even to straighten her clothing, so her bodice still hung off one shoulder, cupping her bared white breast and pus.h.i.+ng it saucily upward. Even in the dim light of the cave, he could see that the nipple was red and swollen from his kisses, gleaming wetly, beckoning him. Benedict swallowed hard, forcing back the desire that surged up in him anew.

There was a man's voice again, echoing so that Benedict knew he had entered the cave. "There must be someone here," the man was saying, his voice laced with disappointment. "The horses must belong to someone."

There was the yellowish glow of a light beyond the curve in the wall, and Benedict surmised that the man and his companion must have brought a lantern with them.

"Doubtless. Perhaps it is Camilla. The stable boy said that she and her husband had ridden out this morning." His voice rose as he called out, "Camilla! Are you in here?"

Camilla sighed. "Cousin Bertram," she whispered. "We'll have to go out and meet them."

Benedict nodded, wis.h.i.+ng Camilla's cousin were at the devil. He reached out and pulled her dress into place, his fingers brus.h.i.+ng tenderly over her breast as he covered it. There was nothing he wanted so much as to linger there. It seemed the purest form of h.e.l.l to have to pull himself back into some semblance of order and venture forth to meet Camilla's foppish cousin.

He turned away, breathing deeply, as Camilla called back, "Bertram? Is that you?"

She smoothed her hair into place and pressed her palms against her hot cheeks, praying that what they had been doing would not be too obvious. She plastered a welcoming smile on her face and edged around the corner. She let out a forced chuckle when she saw her cousin and his friend Mr. Oglesby.

"Oh, my, you will think us foolish indeed," she said, walking toward her cousin. Benedict followed behind her, smiling grimly. "When we heard voices, we thought it might be the smugglers or such, and we hid farther back in the cave."

Benedict cast her a sharp look at her words, but said nothing.

"Smugglers!" Bertram exclaimed, bringing his hand up to his heart theatrically. "Oh, my. Why, Terence and I never thought of that, did we?"

The taciturn Mr. Oglesby did nothing but shake his head.

"I see you brought a lantern," Camilla chattered on. She was so nervous she could not seem to stop talking. What if Cousin Bertram guessed what they had been doing? Was the dim light of the cavern enough to conceal the heightened color in her cheeks and the state of her hair and clothes? What if one of her b.u.t.tons was undone or the skirt of her riding habit was hiked up? She did not dare to check anything, though her fingers itched to do so. So she kept on talking, hoping with her chatter to distract the other men's attention. "We were not so wise. We decided to explore the cave on the spur of the moment. Obviously you planned your expedition."

Bertram looked at her oddly, but said only, "Yes. Mr. Oglesby had expressed an interest in the local caves, so I undertook to show them to him."

"And you brought a lunch, as well." Camilla looked at the wicker basket and blanket in Oglesby's hands. "How delightful!"

Bertram smiled stiffly, and the other man seemed to find something of great interest on the cave's wall. "We thought we might spend quite a bit of time exploring the cave, so we had Cook pack us a lunch. Would you care to share it, perhaps? I am sure there is ample for all of us."

"Knowing Cook, I dare swear there is," Camilla agreed gaily. "But we would not dream of imposing ourselves on you. Would we, Benedict? Besides, I am not really dressed for exploring."

Benedict agreed, nodding and smiling as he steered her around the other two and out into the sunlight. Camilla sagged against the cliff in relief. "Oh, G.o.d," she said with a sigh, "what idiots we must have appeared."

A giggle rose to the surface, and she quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. But the nervous tension she had felt was quickly dissolving into laughter as she thought of the absurdity of the situation. "Oh, what we must have looked like!" she cried out softly, and began to laugh again.

Benedict grabbed her arm and quickly walked her toward their horses. "Hus.h.!.+ They will hear you."

"I cannot help it," she whispered back, struggling to stifle her giggles. "They are no doubt laughing at us, too! When I think of what the expressions on our faces must have been when we came around that corner! Cousin Bertram is too well-bred to betray anything, but I am sure he must have thought we were mad."