Never a Bride (15 page)

Camden suddenly pulled the ribbons tight when the red-painted gig in front of them stopped without warning. Mirabella braced herself with her feet to keep from being thrown forward. The horses protested with snorts and jerking, but Camden held them in check.

“It would be if not for the traffic. Half the population of London must be in the park today and most of them in rigs. I don’t remember it being this crowded years ago.”

The throngs of people, carriages and horses didn’t bother Mirabella. She loved the hustle and bustle of all the people milling around the park dressed in their fashionable, late-spring clothing. Walking the streets of London and looking in all the shops, listening to all the sounds was one of her favorite things to do.

Mirabella and Camden waved and smiled at acquaintances as he drove the two-wheeled curricle around the park, but she could tell that Camden didn’t have his heart in what they were doing. She had seen his mood shift when the Earl of Glenbrighton and Countess Irene had passed them and waved without any true friendliness in their manner. Mirabella feared news of her indiscretions were becoming widely known. She could only hope Camden’s close friends would forgive him and welcome him back into their circle once he had broken his engagement to her.

“If the heavy traffic is disturbing you, perhaps we should park and walk for a little while,” Mirabella said.

“No. If we take a stroll, we will be obliged to stop and talk to those we know.”

“And you don’t want to do that?”

“I was more concerned about you not wanting to talk to those we might meet. I know something happened last night, even though you wouldn’t tell me what was said. But we can stop, if you prefer.”

How could she tell him that the wife of one of his childhood chums was prevented from talking to her? “No, no. You are quite right, and this is fine with me. This is actually better. We have to handle enough conversation at the parties and balls. No need to add to it here on such a lovely afternoon.”

And too, she had him all to herself and didn’t have to share his attention with anyone but the excitable horses.

They were both quiet for a few moments before she asked, “Do you really think attending the parties and riding in the park is going to help silence the talk that has started about me?”

He glanced over at her, but only for a second. The carriages were so close together he had to struggle to keep the horses from getting skittish. “Let us hope it works. That’s one of the reasons we are doing this.”

“How could I forget?”

“What we are doing benefits my family as well,” he added. “I felt it was a good sign when there wasn’t very much written about us in the Society columns this morning other than we attended our first ball together.”

“And, obviously, I’m not the only one who noticed the time you spent with Lady Gwyneth.”

“Not of my own choosing, I assure you. She was at my elbow every time I turned around.”

“You were worried there might have been something about you?”

“Could have been.”

“Other than mention of our attendance last evening and your return to London last week, there’s not been a hint of real scandal. Sometimes it takes a few days for the gossip to make it to the columns. What happened last night that you didn’t tell me?”

“Nothing that I intend to tell you. Was there anything you wanted to tell me?”

“Not a thing.”

“I suspected as much, but something tells me we will both be watching the papers.”

He was as closemouthed as she. Mirabella wondered what could have happened. Mr. Farthingdale was present last night, but so were at least three other gentlemen she had kissed. Merciful heavens. What if they had all told Camden they had kissed her? The number of gentlemen she had kissed was important to him. Almost anything could have happened.

“I suppose I should tell you that my father plans to put pressure on you to make it a fall wedding,” she said, changing the subject. “We’ll have to come up with something to change his mind about that.”

“He said as much to me when you were putting on your bonnet. We’ve plenty of—Damnation!”

The carriage jolted. He jerked the ribbons hard and barely stopped the horses in time to keep them from plowing into the gig ahead of them. One bay reared and tried to bolt, but Camden held tight and kept the animal in line.

“Sorry about my language, Mirabella, but this wretched traffic is unbelievable. Hold on, we’re getting out of here.”

He turned the horses off of the regular path and started across the grassy lawn at a fast clip. She held on to her bonnet with one hand and the seat arm with the other.

“Your language is understandable, but what are you doing? You’re not supposed to drive on that part of the— look out!” Mirabella gasped loudly as Camden narrowly missed two strolling couples. One lady lost her parasol and the other swerved into her escort’s shoulder and knocked him to the ground.

Camden drove the curricle over bumps, around benches and onto the walking path. Several more people had to hurry to get out of his way.

“Careful. You’re going to run someone down before you get out of the park.”

“I’ve had enough of this parade,” he said and guided the horses off the footpath and back on to the road leading out of the park. “I’m going to head to the outskirts of town and get away from these bucks who haven’t been taught how to properly drive a carriage or handle a pair of horses.”

Mirabella looked back at the people staring after them. “That should make us hit the Society papers.”

He looked at her and smiled. “You really think so?”

She nodded.

“I can see it now. Lord Stonehurst’s fiancée must have had a bee in her bonnet. The viscount fled the park, nearly trampling more than half a dozen people.”

Mirabella laughed.

Camden returned to his driving. She remained quiet and thoughtful. She left Camden free to work their way out of the park and toward the end of Town turning left, then right and left again. She was enjoying watching the people and the carriages decked out in their finest. She didn’t mind the ride through the crowded streets of London. The farther out they went the less traffic they encountered, and soon the busy streets with their noise and smells were left behind for a quieter, peaceful ride.

Camden slowed the bays and turned to Mirabella and said, “Why don’t you tell me about the young lady named Sarah.”

“My aunt’s ward, Sarah?” Mirabella hadn’t expected the question. It took her by surprise.

“If there are no others.” He glanced over at her again, the horses now easier to manage. “I heard Hudson give you condolences last evening when he met you.”

Mirabella’s throat was suddenly dry. “She was a part of our household for thirteen years. Only two years older than me. We developed a close friendship. We were like sisters in a lot of ways.” Mirabella hesitated. “There’s really not much to tell. She died in her sleep.”

“I saw in your face last night that you were stunned when Hudson mentioned her. I could tell that her death still saddens you.”

“Very much so. It was extremely sad and difficult to see someone so young pass on.” How could she tell Camden that Sarah was such a sweet and thoughtful young lady that she would rather take her own life than bring shame to the Whittingham house?

“I take it she hadn’t been ill a long time.”

Sarah guessed she was three months pregnant.

“No. Not long at all.”

“Was she betrothed?”

Mirabella’s chest felt heavy. “No. You see Sarah wasn’t beautiful, wealthy or from a titled family. One of her eyes was defective and no one wanted to—” Mirabella stopped.

“To marry her.”

“Yes. Her dowry wasn’t very large. My aunt had been able to save a little for her from what Sarah’s father had left and my father had always said he would contribute, but there wasn’t enough for any young man of means to seriously consider her a match. I find it dreadful that the eligible men couldn’t get past her plainness to see the beautiful person she was inside.”

“I agree and it’s a shame she died so young. From what you say, she made a wonderful companion for you.”

“Oh, she did. During the Season, we would talk about the latest young ladies making their debuts, their dresses and hairstyles. We discussed the bachelors. In the winter, we would take long walks and read to each other and—” Mirabella stopped. “I still miss her and will for a long time.”

He glanced at her and gave her a comforting smile. “Tell me what kinds of things would you discuss about the young blades?”

Mirabella was relieved to redirect the conversation. “Let me see. We talked the usual things ladies discuss. Sometimes we’d try to guess if the gentleman was dashing and dapper, or solemn and ill-mannered. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear all that. We both know what London is about. Why don’t you tell me about America, a place I’ve never been. Are their parties as grand as ours? How do they get along without the peerage?”

Camden drove the horses and talked about the new land across the sea. Mirabella clung to every word. She didn’t know how long they had been at their leisurely ride when Camden stopped the horses. He looked around them and so did Mirabella. The sky had turned a dark shade of gray. There were no houses or buildings anywhere in sight. It appeared as if they’d ended up on some desolate country road.

She hadn’t noticed until they stopped, but the wind had picked up and the temperature had cooled since they left the city. She was hugging her arms to herself. Her pelisse was almost as thin as the material of her dress.

“You’re cold. Here, take this.” He took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. She immediately felt his warmth.

“Thank you, Camden, but you will be cold.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Do you know where we are?” she asked.

“Afraid not. I was too busy talking and not noticing which roads we took.”

“Are we lost?” she asked.

“Certainly not. I know we are on the outskirts of Town.”

She searched his face. He didn’t look worried, which gave her some comfort. “I hear a but at the end of that sentence.”

“It’s just that the landscape has changed in the six years I’ve been away from London, and I’m not sure exactly what road we are on.”

“Do you know how to get us back to the city?”

“No, but I’m sure there will be signs enough pointing us in the right direction. Don’t worry. I’ll have you home before dark.” He looked over and grinned at her. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”

She couldn’t take this as lightly as Camden seemed to. This could be another serious infraction. “This is not something to poke fun at, Camden. If I’m not home by dark, my father could very well insist you marry me immediately and neither of us wants that.”

“Don’t fret, Mirabella. All is well. I do believe we’ve traveled quite a distance from the city, but the horses are in good shape so I’m going to let them run,” he said, starting to turn the horses around.

“Do you think we can make it back to London before the rain starts?”

“I have great doubts about that, but I do believe I will have you home before dark. Hold on to your hat. It’s going to be a wild ride.” He snapped the ribbons against the bays’ rumps, and they took off at a fast trot.

Mirabella slipped her arms into the sleeves of his coat and opened her parasol as the first drops of rain landed on their heads.

They drove right through the rain. In no time at all, Mirabella’s skirt was soaked to the skin.

The wide brim of her bonnet helped shield her eyes from the stinging drops as long as she kept her chin pointed toward her chest. Her silk and fringe parasol quickly became a soggy mess and was difficult to hold on to because of the wind.

Camden drove the horses at a fast clip but not dangerously so. The bays stayed in the ruts and trotted along at his direction, as if they were enjoying the late afternoon jaunt in the spring shower.

The cushioned seat on the curricle did little to keep her posterior from bouncing up and down as they covered the rough and uneven road. With each jar, Mirabella felt as if the whole of her bone structure would collapse at any moment and crumple in a heap.

The rain slashed down on them. Even with Camden’s coat to protect her, in a matter of moments she was chilled. A gust of wind caught under her bonnet and lifted and dropped it behind her shoulders. While she was trying to put it on her head, she lost her grip on the cane handle of her parasol and it went flying over the side of the carriage. She watched the beautiful pink fluff land with a splat in the mud.

Camden made a move to stop the horses.

“No, don’t,” she said, turning quickly to him. “Keep going. It’s not worth going back for.”

Taking his gaze off the road only for a quick glimpse in her direction, he said, “I’m going to try to find shelter for us.”

Mirabella didn’t know how Camden was keeping his eyes open against the hard rain, but he easily handled the ribbons and kept the bays in line.

She pulled her bonnet back on top of her wet hair. Her cold fingers fumbled with the bow under her chin. She wanted to untie it so she could tighten the sash. Just as she managed to unfasten it one of the wheels hit a large hole.

The jolt threw her forward. She grabbed the arm of the carriage seat with one hand and Camden’s arm with the other and lost her grip on her bonnet. She gasped in frustration as it went the way of the parasol and left her with nothing to protect her from the sky emptying itself on top of her head.

“Over there,” Camden said. “I think the branches of that tree are high enough we can park under it and have a little protection until the rain eases.”

Camden slowed the horses and carefully guided them off the road toward their shelter. Mirabella didn’t know how Camden had seen the tree with the rain so thick and the air already getting foggy.

He pulled the horses to a stop as close to the trunk of the tree as he could get and set the brake. The horses shuddered and nickered, obviously as delighted as she was to have a little shelter from the constant onslaught. The branches were quite low and Mirabella realized there was less rain hitting her, but the drops were bigger when one plopped in the middle of her forehead.

“Take my coat off and I’ll hold it up like an umbrella,” Camden said.

Mirabella allowed him to help her peel the soggy coat off her arms. He moved very close to her, lining his thigh tightly against the length of hers. He held the coat up like a roof over her head. She was immediately thankful that the rain was no longer drenching her.

“I’m supposed to know better than to let a young lady get caught out in the rain,” he complained in a low voice, mostly to himself.

“My father likes to say a little rain never hurt anyone. Let us hope he is right.”

“Let’s do, because it’s my ego that feels bruised at the moment.”

She saw Camden’s head was still exposed to the heavy sprinkling so she reached up and moved his arms higher so the makeshift roof shielded him, too. It brought him extremely close to her.

As she brought her arms down, Mirabella looked at Camden. Like her clothes, his were saturated. His white shirt was plastered to him, appearing like a second skin for his arms and shoulders. She could make out the outline of firm, slightly bulging muscles across his chest.

Camden’s hair lay flat, dark and wet against his head. Water dripped from his nose and chin and ran down his forehead and cheeks. She noticed he stared at her and knew she must look as soaked and rumpled as he.

Mirabella smiled and bit down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing at the predicament in which they found themselves.

Camden quickly scanned her from head to toe. He smiled, and then chuckled, too.

“You look a bit mussed, Lord Stonehurst,” she teased.

“As bad luck would have it, Miss Whittingham, I believe I am.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a gentleman so wet.”

He looked the length of her again, but this time it wasn’t a quick glance. He took his time, letting his gaze linger on her face, her breasts, and her hands, which lay cupped together in the center of her lap. It was the expression of desire in his eyes that made her shiver, not the wet clothes or the chill in the late afternoon air.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a lady look so lovely in a wet dress.” His voice softened and his gaze caressed her face as he said, “Wet or dry, Mirabella, you’re beautiful.”

“You lie, sir,” she said, feeling the telltale rise of a blush in her cheeks at his thorough inspection.

“No.”

She heard the soft patter of rain falling on foliage and smelled the damp scent of wet horse and drenched clothing, but the only thing she could do was concentrate on Camden’s moist lips. They seemed to be inviting her to kiss him.

“I must look like a bedraggled cat who’s been thrown in the Thames and left there for several days before being fished out,” she said.

“To me, you look like you need to be kissed.”

Her heart rate increased and her stomach fluttered crazily. “I do?”

“Oh, yes. You do.”

Mirabella felt as if she were on the edge of a cliff and at any moment she was going to fall. “Is there anyone in this carriage who would want to kiss me?”

“I believe you are looking at him, Miss Whittingham.”

The tone of his voice warmed her like flames from an open fire. Heat rose from deep within her, and she no longer felt the breezy wind or the cold drops of rain. Did he know she had thought about a kiss from him only moments before?

He lowered his arms and let the coat drop back around her shoulders. He took a deep breath and pushed his dripping hair away from his face with both his hands, showing a wide forehead, and making him look younger, even more handsome. Suddenly Mirabella was filled with an intense craving to feel his lips on hers.

Camden must have felt the same because his eyes darkened and his lips parted slightly. He bent his head and lowered his lips toward hers. Mirabella’s breaths became short and rapid in anticipation.

But instead of kissing her, he gently placed the tips of his fingers on her cheek and wiped them down her face. He watched the trail of his light touch. His palm was warm and smelled of the leather he’d worked in his hands. He let his fingers slip lightly over her chin, down her neck to the wet skin of her chest exposed by the square-cut neckline of her dress.

When he reached the swell of her breast he paused and opened his palm, flattening his hand against her breast. The weight of his hand on her skin made her heartbeat race even faster.

She knew she should slap his hand, move as far away from him as she possibly could, and admonish him with strong words for his forward behavior. She could do none of those things because she wasn’t offended by the way he touched her. Mirabella felt only desire.

She looked down and saw that her pelisse was open. The thin material of her carriage dress was saturated, perfectly outlining her lace-trimmed undergarments. Camden’s hand lay resting on her breast, over her heart, moving only with the heavy, erratic rise and fall of her chest.

Oh, yes, her pulse was beating fast. Fast from the dash to get out of the rain, faster from the heat of his touch. Her gaze met his and held.

She should have felt soggy and frumpy but she felt beautiful.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered.

“Please do.”

He moved his face closer to hers. Their breaths mingled. Their eyes searched. Suddenly their lips were together, fusing tightly.

It was an immediate, urgent kiss that made her body temperature soar. More demanding, more fascinating, more desperate than the other kisses they had shared. She welcomed his aggressiveness. Her mouth opened, and his tongue drove inside, filling her, teasing her with the taste of him.

With one hand, he held her to his chest, while with the other, he caressed her breast with such skill that she wanted to cry out from the pleasure, the excitement, the urgency he was creating inside her.

Mirabella needed to touch him as he was touching her. She tugged his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and yanked it free. With driving anticipation, she shoved her hands beneath his shirt and gasped from the ardor that rippled through her as she splayed her hands on his bare chest.

His skin was damp, cool, exhilarating. The muscles beneath his taut skin were full and firm. She ran her palms up and down, over and around his rib cage and slid her hands up until her fingertips found the swell of his upper chest.

Camden moaned his approval and whispered against her lips. “Yes, Mirabella. Feel my heart. Oh, my lady, feel what you do to me.”

“My heart races, too, my lord.”

“Touch me wherever you want.”

His husky voice was all the encouragement Mirabella needed to continue her thorough examination of his upper body.

His lips left hers, and he kissed her eyes. His tongue raked across her cheeks, her neck and her chest, drinking the rain from her skin. With his mouth, he lightly pulled on first her upper lip, then her bottom lip and gently sucked before releasing them.

Mirabella shuddered with pleasure.

“I love the taste of you,” he murmured.

“You taste of cool rainwater,” she answered in a breathless whisper.

Mirabella ached to touch all of Camden’s body but was fearful to let her hand slip below his waist. She couldn’t have dreamed that stroking a man so intimately could push all rational thought out of propriety from her mind and make her happy and excited to feel so wanton.

She knew she didn’t want to think. She only wanted to touch, experience and enjoy what this man was doing to her and how touching and exploring him made her feel. She wanted the sensations he created in her to go on forever.

“I know we shouldn’t be doing this,” she managed to say between fervent kisses. “But I have no will to decline my fancy.”

“Thank God,” he mumbled against her lips. “I have no will to stop either.”

Camden was hungry, desperate to feel the length of Mirabella’s softness beneath him, pressing against him with uncontrolled desire, but the seat was simply too small to lay her down. His lower body was hard and huge, straining against the wet material of his trousers. Not even in his youth had he wanted a woman as desperately as he wanted Mirabella right now.

He pushed the sleeve of her dress and pelisse off one shoulder and pulled on the front of her dress and undergarments exposing a soft, full beautiful breast that seemed to be yearning for his possession. Her beautiful breast lay before him expecting his touch, willing his possession. He was torn between cupping her breast and feeling its weight in his hand and taking it into his mouth for a taste of her.

Camden desired both.

“Are you cold?” he whispered huskily.

“No. Hotter than I’ve ever been, sir.”

“Me, too.”

He bent his head and took the erect nipple into his mouth. Mirabella gasped with pleasure and arched toward him. Her whole body trembled with delight. He tore the other side of her clothing away from the yielding breast and covered it hard and fully with his palm.

Instinctively Mirabella pressed closer to him.

Pleasure mixed with confidence and satisfaction welled up inside Camden. Mirabella had no aversion to lovemaking. With her movements, her sounds and her intimate responses, she let him know that he had the power to thrill her. That excited him all the more.

Unlike some men, he was not afraid to admit that a woman, be she wife, mistress, or lady of the evening, should enjoy sexual bliss as much as a man. He found no joy and little gratification in a woman who failed to luxuriate in his ability to give her pleasure.

The feel of the tight, damp nipple in the warmth of his mouth almost sent him over the edge. He gently pulled and sucked on it, drawing out her enjoyment and his. He wanted her so desperately. Right here. Right now. He wanted to drive deep inside her and watch the delight play out on her lovely face.

Water dripped from his hair onto her breast, and Camden lapped it, needing the moisture to quench the fire burning inside him. He felt as if he was going to burst out of his breeches.

“Mirabella, you know what I want to do to you, don’t you?”

“I believe so.”

“I want to take you the way a man takes a woman.” His breath was shaky and mere gasps, he needed her so badly. “Tell me that you have been this far with a man before so that I can satisfy us both with no retribution.”

Desire swept out of her eyes like a piece of flaming paper turning to ash. “I can’t tell you that, for I haven’t.”

He squeezed his eyes shut only for a moment then opened them against the throb of his craving.

“I didn’t think so.”

Niggling doubts of his admirable gesture crept into his mind and threatened to snare his appetite to continue. Was she being truthful? He had proof she’d kissed more than one other man.

Her reputation was already on the brink of unrecoverable injury. It was just that so far they’d kept what she had done from the
ton.
If anyone knew what they were doing right now, her reputation would be beyond repair.

Camden’s desire to possess her was strong. Surely no one would know if he took her virginity. He wanted her. He was frantic for release, desperate for her total surrender to him. He was hard for her—not just for any woman. This one. Mirabella.

Her eyes were bright with wonder, acceptance. She was willing. He had no doubt of that. Her lips were red and full, her hair an attractively wet, tangled mass. The pale skin of her neck and chest were flushed from the rub of his faint beard. If anyone saw her right now, they would not doubt that she had just been thoroughly kissed and plundered.