Chapter Nineteen

Lady Ambrose and her daughter descended the stairs just as Cam returned from the basement.

“I’m afraid Lady Bridget is not feeling too well, my lord. She collapsed onto the bed the innkeeper’s wife directed us to.” Lady Ambrose was almost giggling in her glee to have witnessed the fall of a young lady. “I didn’t smell liquor on her, but I believe she is not quite herself.”

Cam pinched the bridge of his nose. “She has not been drinking, Lady Ambrose. She was kidnapped by Lord Davenport and apparently drugged.”

Lady Ambrose clutched her ample bosom and attempted to look distraught, though not quite making it, considering this was probably the best scandal she had ever witnessed. “Oh, how terrible for the girl. I assume there will be a wedding?”

“Not with Lord Davenport.”

Lady Ambrose threw her daughters a smug glance. “Oh, good heavens, my lord, I’m afraid the girl is ruined.”

Cam glared at the woman who was having such a wonderful time at Bridget’s expense. “Only if the story is brought to London.”

“Well, I would certainly never carry tales.” She turned to her daughters. “Would I?”

Both girls answered, “No, Mama.”

The harridan turned back to him. “So you see, Lord Campbell, there is nothing to worry about.” She tapped her chin with a pudgy finger. “Of course, these things do have a way of becoming known, no matter how much one wishes to hide them.”

Disgusted with the conversation, he bowed slightly to the ladies. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I will see that the innkeeper’s wife tends to Lady Bridget.” He strode away from them to catch the woman who had just returned to the common room, bearing plates of food. She placed them on a table with two men who were in obvious need of something to soak up the alcohol they’d drunk.

“Excuse me, may I have a word with you?” He reached her just as she made to return to the kitchen.

“Certainly, my lord. How may I assist you?”

“The young lady whom you just put into the room upstairs…” He glanced sideways at Lady Ambrose and her daughters, who watched his every move. If he went upstairs to deal with Bridget, it would only increase the weight of their story about her being ruined. Drugged and kidnapped by one man, alone and behind closed doors with her guardian. Bridget might as well put out word that she was looking for a protector for all her reputation would be worth as soon as Lady Ambrose hit Town.

“I am concerned for her welfare but, since she is an unmarried young lady, I cannot assist her.”

The landlady threw a glance in the Ambrose family’s direction and seemed to understand his dilemma. Although the measure for ruin for the working class was not as strict as it was for nobility, she seemed to appreciate the disgrace Bridget was facing. “Of course, my lord. As soon as the last of the suppers have been delivered, I will tend to her.”

He thanked her and, against his desire to race upstairs and make sure Bridget was well after her ordeal, he took a seat in the common room—where he could be seen by all.

Hopefully, Ambrose and his women would soon depart for their rooms and leave him free to visit with Bridget. Until then, he was stuck right here where his presence would be noted. He waved at the innkeeper to bring him an ale, which he then nursed for almost an hour.

Finally, Ambrose directed his family up the stairs to the bedchambers floor. It had almost seemed a contest between him and the family, seeing who would depart the room first.

The innkeeper’s wife, who told him her name was Mrs. Trenton, had reported to him a while ago that Bridget was sleeping soundly on the bed in room number four and seemed to be just fine.

Room number four. He didn’t know whether Mrs. Trenton told him the number on purpose, or accidentally, but after arranging for a room for himself, he strode up the stairs and went directly to room four.

The door was unlocked, most likely because Bridget had not yet awakened from her drugged state. The room was dark and chilly. The low fire in the grate did not give off much heat. No candle was left burning, so he made his way across the room to the bed carefully, so as not to trip and make enough noise for the entire inn to be up and staring at him again.

Bridget lay curled up on the bed, most likely cold. He touched her forehead. “Bridget?”

She stirred and opened her eyes. “Cam.” She sat up and looked around. “Where am I? The last thing I remember was Lord Davenport dragging me into an inn. Is this it? How did you get here?”

Cam lit the candle on the table next to the bed and sat alongside her. “Too many questions at once, sweeting. First of all, how do you feel?”

“My mouth is very dry, and my head hurts, but otherwise I am well.” Her eyes grew wide. “Did Davenport…”

“I don’t think he did more than make the stupid decision to kidnap you with the idea of ruining you so there would be no choice but for you to marry him. However—”

“I will not marry that man!”

Cam cleared his throat. “If he had done something improper while you were under the influence of the drug he gave you, you would know. You would feel…” Lord, he hated having this conversation, but he needed answers. “You would feel some soreness between your legs.”

Despite the dim light from the lone candle, he clearly saw her face flush bright red. “No.” She shook her head, then groaned at the movement. “No. I don’t feel any different.”

Cam let out a sigh of relief. At least that was not an additional problem they would have to contend with.

“To answer your questions, I went to my sister’s townhouse earlier today to relate to you the meeting I had with Davenport. After he’d left me yesterday, I was under the impression he was about to close up his house and leave the country. I even gave him enough funds to purchase a ticket and set himself up elsewhere.”

Bridget snorted. “That was quite generous of you.”

“Foolish, also. I never dreamed he would use the money to kidnap you.” He shook his head. “Now he faces kidnapping charges, and I will also demand payment of the debts I hold for him. Debtor’s prison is the best he can hope for.”

Cam ran his finger down her cheek. “My sister’s butler informed me that Davenport had taken you for a ride in the park, and I knew immediately what he had planned. I only wish I had thought of it before he did it.”

“Well, I am glad it is over.”

He closed his eyes and winced. “I am afraid it is not over, sweetheart. You are in a mess.”

“Why?”

“Lord and Lady Ambrose, along with their daughters, witnessed the entire debacle downstairs, including the announcement by Davenport that you were headed to Gretna Green. They also saw the condition you were in, and even though I assured them you had been drugged for nefarious purposes, they believed you were drunk.”

“Drunk!”

He nodded.

“Do you think they will talk about it?”

Cam snorted. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

“Will it be a problem?” Bridget chewed her lip.

“A major problem.”

“Hmm. Now what?”

“You need to get married. And fast.”

Bridget closed her eyes and shook her head. “I told you. I will not marry Davenport.”

“Not Davenport. I would never allow that. You will marry me.”

…

Bridget’s jaw dropped at Cam’s casual announcement that she would marry him. “I believe all of this excitement has wreaked havoc with my hearing. I thought you said I would marry you.”

“That is precisely what I said.”

She continued to stare at him, looking for a smile that would tell her this was a joke. When he said nothing further, she stated, “Thank you for the offer, my lord, but I fear I must refuse. Now if you will excuse me, I will return to sleep and hopefully, we can make our way back to London tomorrow.”

“Oh, no, Lady Bridget. You can’t dismiss my offer so blithely. The minute Lady Ambrose’s feet hit the ground in London you are ruined. Not just a little ‘mistake’ such as allowing a kiss in the moonlight, but flat-out major ruin that will affect the rest of your life.”

“Nonsense. No one cares about a Scottish lass who has only just arrived in London and is a nobody.” She tossed her falling-down hair over her shoulder as an attempt to appear unmoved by the situation. Of course she knew she was in trouble, but she would not marry for that reason. Even if her attraction to Cam was strong. Incredibly strong.

“Wrong again.” He took her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “Not only will your reputation be in shreds, which will prevent you from making any sort of suitable match, or even being accepted in ladies’ parlors, but my reputation as your guardian will be besmirched in a way that will call my honor into question.”

“And prevent you from making a suitable match, also?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

She huffed. “You told me more than once that you had no intention of marrying…ever.”

“Suppose I change my mind. In fact, I did change my mind. I just proposed to you.”

Bridget leaned back, the air between them too heavy for her to take a deep breath. Why was he sitting on her bed, anyway? Wasn’t that more of a scandal than Davenport’s scheme? She was suddenly aware of the darkness of the room, the closed door, the bed they sat on, and how close their bodies were on said bed.

Her heart sped up, and her breathing increased. “That was no proposal.” Lord, even her voice had turned deep and raspy. “You simply stated that I would marry you.”

“Very well. Then a proper proposal. Will you make me the happiest of men and consent to be my wife?”

“Do you realize you look as though you just tasted something nasty?”

Instead of taking the bait for an argument, he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her forward. His head descended, and he touched his soft, warm lips to hers.

Big mistake.

She melted against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her entire body flush against his. Warm, hard, his heart beating as fast as hers. Her hands slid up his chest to encircle his neck. She moved her fingers forward and with a slight tug, untied his cravat.

Cam’s lips pulled away from her mouth, and he scattered kisses on her jawline. “Say yes.”

She shook her head, unable to form a coherent response. His hand moved down from her neck and brushed across her neckline. He dipped his finger into the edge of her gown, sliding it along, going deeper until the tip of his finger touched her very sensitive nipple. She drew in a breath at the sensations that ran through her body. With a quick tug, he pulled the gown from her shoulders, exposing her chemise and stays. Another quick move and the chemise was pulled from her breasts. His hands molded the flesh, his thumb flicking over her beaded nipples.

“Umm, that feels so good.” She threw her head back and pushed her body closer to his.

She whimpered when his hands left her breasts and moved behind her. Within seconds her stays loosened and fell to her lap. The man was an artist in seducing and undressing women.

“Let’s get these things out of the way.” He pushed all her garments to her waist. “Lift up.”

As if completely in his power, she shifted, and he pulled her stays, chemise, petticoat, and gown down her legs and off, dropping them on the floor. The innkeeper’s wife had already removed her half boots, so Bridget was left with only her stockings and the pink ribbons holding them up.

Cam smoothed his hand down her body, over her curves, resting on the top of her thigh. “So beautiful.”

His hand wrapped around her waist, and he drew her to him. Unclothed and pressing up against his fully clothed, strong body brought a new sensation to her already over-sensitized skin. His lips covered hers again, and he nudged with his tongue to make her open to him.

The only sounds in the room were their slight moans and shallow breaths as he caressed her body. He pulled back and stood, leaving her cold and confused.

“Don’t worry, my sweet, I am merely dressing—or should I say undressing—for the occasion.” He made quick work of his clothes, and they landed in a pile on the floor.

Bridget was mesmerized by his member, swollen and moving, as he climbed next to her on the bed. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her down so they were lying face-to-face. “Almost from the time we first met, I can’t remember a minute when I didn’t want you. You have been wreaking havoc with my senses for weeks.”

The power she felt at having this man, this arrogant, overbearing lord—a known rake with quite the reputation with the ladies—admit he’d wanted her for so long was a heady feeling, indeed. Before she could comment on his remark, he took her mouth, demanding complete surrender, taking back the power she’d just felt.

Curiosity had her moving her hand down his muscled chest, past the curly hair below his belly, to the object of her interest. She wrapped her hand around his member and squeezed, eliciting a slight moan from Cam. Her thumb circled the slit at the top of it and encountered a slick substance.

Before she could ask him about it, his own fingers had found their way down to her woman’s core, where he circled and teased the swollen flesh there. Oh my, such wonderful feelings. Yes, this was quite pleasurable and very different from what she’d seen animals do.

Cam was kissing her again as his finger slid into her opening. First one finger, then two. “You’re so warm and tight.”

“Is that good?” she panted.

“Oh yes, sweetheart. Very, very good.” He continued his ministrations until she began to feel restless, as if she were climbing a hill and struggling to reach the top.

“Relax, don’t tense up,” Cam mumbled as he pulled her closer and tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. His warm breath tickled her skin, but all her attention was focused on where his fingers circled and pressed, bringing her somewhere wonderful.

He slid down her body and took her breast in his warm mouth, suckling hard. Within seconds an explosion ripped through her body, rocking her, causing her to stop breathing as the most wonderful feeling in the world swept over her, from her head to her curling toes.

“Cam!” She squeezed her legs together and pressed hard against his hand as the ripples continued, and then slowly stopped. Her muscles relaxed and all her bones melted. She didn’t think she could walk if someone screamed “fire.”

Turning her head, her eyes slowly opened to see Cam next to her, his head resting on his propped-up hand. He reached out and ran his fingers down her cheek.

“Is there more?”

His smile brought back some of the feelings she’d just experienced. “Only if you want it.”