Laurel Ridge, Lybrook Estate, Wiltshire County, England
Wedding Ball for the Duke and Duchess of Lybrook, 1853
Cameron Price downed his fourth glass of champagne and cursed the day he’d ever laid eyes on Lady Rose Jameson. Watching her waltz with Lord Evan Xavier for the fifth time this evening was more than he could stomach.
When the Duke of Lybrook had approached him six weeks earlier to compose a wedding waltz for his bride, Cameron had no choice but to take the commission. His family, tenants on the Lybrook estate, needed the money badly, and the sum of two hundred pounds also offered him the opportunity to hire a man to work his family’s farm so he could devote more time to his music.
The duke had insisted that he work closely with Lady Rose, a talented pianist, while composing the waltz, so she would be adequately prepared to play it at the wedding. The many hours of sitting next to her at the piano, working out measures and harmonies, their elbows grazing as her fingers danced across the keys… He’d nursed many a cockstand afterward. Fighting his attraction to her had become a loathsome burden, a constant duel between his head and his heart. Her sapphire eyes haunted him. Even in slumber he found no peace. Rose’s beautiful visage tormented him in his dreams.
No one played as Rose did. She made the pianoforte sing, giving Cameron’s music a power and seductiveness it didn’t otherwise possess. The waltz had been well received tonight, but he had no doubt that Rose’s interpretation, not his talent as a composer, had made the difference.
Watching her now, in the arms of Xavier, who was courting her, felt like a punch in the gut.
No.
More like a stampede of heavy-hoofed stallions trampling him.
Xavier had been an oarsman at Weston and was consequently a big man, tall and blond with friendly brown eyes and a pleasantly handsome face. Surely a perfect match for the quietly virtuous Rose.
Cameron disliked him on principle.
Cam had bedded his share of females in the past, but never before had he felt such an intense attraction to a woman as he did for Rose. He ached inside. She was meant for parties and high teas, silk gowns and diamonds. He had nothing to offer her.
He set his champagne glass down on the refreshment table and walked out of the ballroom.
“You’re not leaving yet, are you, Mr. Price?”
Cameron turned to face the duke’s mother, Morgana Farnsworth, the Dowager Duchess of Lybrook.
“Yes, Your Grace,” he said. “I believe it is time I got back to my family.”
“We’ll be serving a small meal at midnight. Won’t you stay and join us?”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t impose.”
“Nonsense. The duke and duchess would never forgive me if I let you leave. Everyone here is dying to talk to you about your compositions. You have an exciting career ahead of you.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Your Grace.” Cameron bowed politely. “However, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to stay. After all, I’m one of the duke’s tenants.”
“You’re an invited guest,” the duchess said.
Cameron sighed. If these people wanted to speak to him about his music, he couldn’t afford to leave yet. Perhaps it might lead to another commission, and he needed the money to provide for his widowed mother and two younger sisters. “Thank you, Your Grace. I would be honored to stay.”
“Wonderful, Mr. Price. Please make yourself welcome.” She touched his arm in a maternal fashion and then hurried off to speak to another group of guests.
Cameron headed back toward the refreshment table, inhaled another glass of champagne, and strode toward the ornate double doorway that led to the back terrace. He needed some fresh air.
Rose thanked Evan for the waltz and hurried to the ladies’ retiring room to check her appearance. Her pale green satin gown was in fairly good shape, considering she had been wearing it since early afternoon. She fussed with her blond tresses a bit, which were swept atop her head in an elaborate coiffure of cascading curls, and then bit her lips and pinched her cheeks. The midnight meal was only minutes away. Rose was not hungry, but it would be bad form not to attend. She smiled in the looking glass as she thought of her sister, Lily, who had already left the ball with her new husband, Daniel, the seventh Duke of Lybrook. They would no doubt be missing the repast, as well they should. To have a wedding night with the man she loved—Rose envied her sister’s good fortune.
Seven weeks ago the sisters had come to Laurel Ridge with their parents, the Earl and Countess of Ashford, and their brother, Thomas, Viscount Jameson, for a pre-season house party hosted by the Duke of Lybrook. Lily had caught the eye of the duke soon thereafter, and the two had fallen deeply in love. The way they looked at each other took Rose’s breath away. She couldn’t imagine feeling that intensely for someone.
Well, she could. Just not for Lord Evan Xavier. She cared for him and she enjoyed his company…and his kisses. But they didn’t share the ease together that Lily and the duke—Daniel—did. It was still difficult for Rose to call her new brother-in-law by his Christian name. Then again, she and Lily were two very different people. Perhaps Lily, with her disdain for convention and the dictates of the peerage, was just more comfortable using Christian names than she, Rose, would ever be.
Rose took a few deep breaths and walked to the back terrace for some air before the midnight meal. Several couples hid in the shadows, chatting intimately. Some were embracing each other and laughing softly. She walked swiftly away from them, looking for a dark corner where she could be alone with her thoughts for a few moments. She finally settled on a spot against the railing, outside the glimmer of the torchlights. She inhaled the fresh night air, expanding her lungs as much as her corset would allow.
“Good evening, my lady.”
Rose turned, squinting in the dark shadows. About ten feet away from her, concealed in the nightfall, stood Cameron Price. Rose’s skin erupted in tiny bumps and her breath caught. He never failed to affect her, and this evening, dressed formally, he was an intoxicating vision.
Cameron drained the glass of champagne he was holding and shuffled toward her.
“A wellborn lady such as yourself shouldn’t be out here unescorted,” he said, the aroma of alcohol on his breath unmistakable.
“Mr. P-Price,” Rose stammered. “I…I was just getting a breath of fresh air.”
“Won’t Xavier miss you?”
“I don’t know… I…I’m not wholly his concern.”
Cameron snorted. “He certainly monopolized you on the dance floor this evening.”
Rose’s cheeks warmed. She was thankful for the darkness. “Not many others asked me for a dance.”
“How could they, with him breathing down your neck? He’s the size of a mountain, for God’s sake.”
Rose wrinkled her nose. “You’re inebriated, Mr. Price.”
“Slightly.” He chuckled. “Tell me, would you have danced with another man if he had asked you?”
“Of course,” Rose said. “I danced with my father and my brother, and my cousin’s friend Mr. Landon.”
“You danced with a mister?” Cameron shook his head. “You mean you’ll dance with an untitled gent?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Mr. Landon is an impeccable gentleman. He owns land here and in the Americas, and he’s a cousin to His Grace.”
“Ah, I see.” Cameron lifted his champagne glass to his lips. “Damn, it’s empty.” He set it down loudly on the railing. “Money is the issue then, as well as blood.”
“Mr. Price,” Rose began, unable to look at him, “I fail to see what—”
“My lady,” Cameron interrupted, “would you have danced with me, had I asked you?”
Rose turned. His silver eyes penetrated her flesh like daggers. She felt defenseless. All those heart-wrenching hours spent at the pianoforte with him, fighting her attraction to him and telling herself they had no future, flooded into her like a tidal wave. He had treated her with such disdain, never missing an opportunity to make a snide comment about their different stations. Was it possible he felt an attraction too?
“You’re foxed, Mr. Price,” Rose said, forcing herself not to stammer. “This conversation would be better served if we were both in our right minds.”
Cameron tentatively reached toward her arm and touched her lightly with his finger. A spark shot through Rose at the contact.
“I may have imbibed a bit more than usual, my lady,” he said. “But I assure you, I am in my right mind. I asked you a question. Would you have danced with me?”
“I…don’t know. It wouldn’t really be appropriate.”
Cameron snorted again. “Of course. What would the other peers have thought if you, the daughter of the Earl of Ashford, were seen dancing with a commoner? Pardon, not just a commoner, but a tenant on your brother-in-law’s land.” He turned away from her. “Good evening, my lady.”
Rose’s heart hurt. She had wanted to dance with him. She had dreamed of more than that. Of kissing him the way she kissed Evan. Of doing…more than kissing. “Wait, Mr. Price.”
He turned. “What is it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes, what?”
She gulped. “Yes. I would have danced with you.”
He walked back to her and brushed back a stray curl. Her skin burned where he touched her.
“Will you dance with me now?”
“It’s nearly time for the meal.” Rose swallowed. “The orchestra is taking a break. I…we should go in.”
“Please. Dance with me.”
Her heart hammered against her chest. “There’s no music.”
He cupped her cheek. “We don’t need music. You and I together have it in our souls.”
“Mr. Price…”
“Come with me.” He took her arm and led her to the stairs of the terrace.
Rose looked around quickly. They were alone. Completely alone. The other couples on the terrace must have gone in to be seated for the meal. Cameron pulled her down the stairs and out onto the soft grass of the lawn. He led her away from the torchlights to a dark crevice where only the light of the crescent moon veiled them in a lustrous cloak.
“Dance with me,” he said, taking her into his arms. He led her left hand to his shoulder and pulled her to him. “Look at me.”
She gazed up into his sterling eyes, the moonlight illuminating his handsome face and casting highlights into his coal-black hair. He looked like a pagan god come to earth to deflower an innocent maiden. Her heart raced and fear coursed through her, but she didn’t look away. He began moving in a slow waltz, leading her around the lawn in intricate steps that surprised her.
“You dance very well, Mr. Price,” she said.
“Yes, we common folk dance too,” he said, a bit sardonically.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shhh.” He pulled her closer.
She laid her cheek on his shoulder and inhaled his salty cinnamon scent. She closed her eyes, the pulse of his throat racing against her forehead, her own heart thumping madly. Being in his arms at last felt wonderful. Too wonderful. She started to pull away.
“No,” he said, resisting her. “Stay with me. We haven’t finished our dance.”
She relented, melting into him. He stopped waltzing and simply swayed gently. To finally embrace him, feel him against her, filled Rose with joy and agony. If only this moment could last a lifetime.
Slowly he pulled away from her, just slightly. With one hand, he tilted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. Her lips trembled, but she knew what he wanted. She wanted it too. His mouth descended until his lips were on hers.
Rose knew how to kiss. Evan had taught her well. She parted her lips and Cameron’s tongue invaded her mouth, tasting her gently, slowly. He withdrew his tongue and brushed it delicately over her lips. She sighed softly and tentatively reached her own tongue out to explore the fullness of his lips. They were softer than Evan’s, and she felt a surge in her womb that was new to her. Frightened, she turned her head away. His lips caressed her cheeks, her neck, nibbling and nuzzling her until she shivered.
“We should go in.”
“No. Not yet,” Cameron said. “I know I can never have you. I need at least this much of you. Please.”
She turned and sought his mouth with her own. This time the kiss wasn’t gentle. Cameron clamped onto her, absorbing her. He swirled his tongue with hers, tasting her, taking her. He tasted of champagne and tea, passion and lust. She wanted to kiss him forever, to lose herself in his strong body. He moved from her mouth to her ear, tracing its outer edge with his tongue and dipping into its cove just enough to wet it. When he caressed the wetness with his breath, the tingling made her shudder.
“Do you like that?” he whispered.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”
He nibbled on her earlobe and then moved to the other ear, tantalizing it as he had the first. Rose squirmed, her body possessed by new and exciting feelings. Evan had never kissed her ears. Her skin blazed and her heart raced wildly, her blood like molten lava in her veins. Cameron caressed her cheeks with moist kisses, moved down to her neck, her pulse throbbing as he licked her in little circles, blew softly on the wetness, and kissed it.
“Oh, Rose,” he whispered. “Rose, Rose. You’re so beautiful.”
He nibbled down below her neck to the sensitive skin above her breasts. Rose buried her hands in his hair, pulled out the queue that bound it, and laced her fingers through the thick black locks. Cameron kissed the tops of her breasts, tracing his tongue around the neckline of her gown. She moaned as he forced his tongue between her breasts, down into her cleavage, retreated, and did it again.
“Goodness,” she said. “We shouldn’t….”
“I know.” He moved his lips upward. Gently he eased the sleeve of her gown down and kissed her shoulder, his hands cupping her breasts.
Even through her corset, Rose felt her nipples tighten. She gasped.
Cameron tore his mouth away from her arm. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
The endearment surprised her, and her pulse quickened. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just feel so…” She panted, trying to catch her breath. “We really should stop.”
“Do you want to stop?” he asked, running his finger up and down her bare arm ever so lightly, giving her the chills.
“No…I mean, yes…”
But his mouth was on hers once more, their tongues mating and swirling, feasting on each other.
His lips found her ear again. “Your kisses are magic, Rose,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she sighed. “Magic.”
“Do you want me, sweetheart?” Cameron’s voice was rough and smoky. “Do you want me to touch you?”
“Oh, yes,” Rose whispered, the ache in her womb nearly more than she could bear. “Touch me, Cameron. Please touch me.”
He pulled her into a shadow. Gently he lowered her to the ground, positioning her into the crook of his arm, and kissed her mouth again as his free hand fumbled with her bodice. He eased her gown down around her arms and loosened her corset, freeing her full breasts, which glowed incandescently in the moonlight.
“You’re more beautiful than I imagined,” he rasped, gently kneading them, brushing his fingers over her taut pink nipples.
She moaned his name softly.
“Do you want me to kiss you here?” he asked.
“Yes,” she pleaded. “Yes, please.”
He lowered his head and licked one pink circle, gently kissed it, and sucked the nipple into his mouth, tugging and then releasing it slowly, and tugging again. Rose closed her eyes and arched her body toward him, reaching for something elusive that she couldn’t imagine, but that she wanted more than anything.
“Please, Cameron.”
He sucked her nipple harder, and then moved to her other breast and licked her, kissed her, his breath coming in rapid pants against her flesh. With one hand he reached under her dress and tugged at the ribbons of her drawers.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “you need to stop me now.”
“What?” she rasped.
“If you don’t stop me now, I’m going to take you.”
Take her? Make love to her? Her skin was tight around her body, and her only thought was how she wanted him. “Yes, take me. Please, Cameron.”
“Dear God,” he said, exploring her flesh with his fingers. “You’re dripping wet.” He rubbed against her slick folds and then brought his hand to her mouth. “Taste.” He traced her lips.
She darted her tongue out and licked the musky sweetness from his fingertips.
“Your ambrosia,” he said. “You made it for me.”
He glided his fingers under her skirts again, finding her sex and touching her wetness. He brought them to his own mouth this time. “Sweet,” he said. “So sweet.”
Rose thrashed against him, arching her hips wildly.
“Do you want me to touch you again?”
“Yes, yes, again.”
He complied, reaching under her skirts, finding her swollen nub, and teasing it with his fingers. “Does this make you feel good?” he whispered.
“God, yes, Cameron. Yes,” she sobbed, grabbing his hand and rubbing it harder against her.
She moaned, writhing beneath him, running toward something—she didn’t know what—until her insides exploded in a wave of pleasure that sent stars into her body, crashing her into a wall of joyful euphoria. When her shuddering finally slowed, Cameron released her.
He lowered his head to hers, kissed her mouth lightly, and whispered, “Does Xavier make you feel like that?”
“No,” she said, breathing heavily, seeking his mouth with hers.
“Who makes you feel like that, Rose?” he asked, his breath tickling her neck.
“You, Cameron.”
“Who do you want to take you? Who, Rose?”
“You, only you.” And she meant it. She wanted him inside her. Now.
Cameron brushed his hand down her arm, making her shiver, taking her hand and leading it to his groin. “Do you feel that?” He moved her palm over his arousal. “That’s for you, sweetheart. Only for you.”
Rose explored the hardness through the silky fabric of his trousers. “Cameron,” she whispered. “My goodness.”
“I ache for you, Rose.” He groaned. “Only you can ease my suffering.”
“I want to. I want to, Cameron.”
“Are you sure, sweet?”
“Yes, yes. Take me now.”
“Do you…understand what will happen?” He panted in her ear. “Do you?”
“Of course. And what I didn’t know my sister told me. I just didn’t expect you to be quite so…engorged.”
Cameron laughed softly. “Perhaps I’m better endowed than the duke.”
“What?”
“Never mind, my darling. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, yes, please. I want it more than anything.” Rose sat up and tugged at Cameron’s black formal coat. “I want to touch you.”
Rose’s face was flushed in the moonlight, her eyes shimmering with passion and promise as she looked at him, her shoulders creamy white as a new-fallen snow, and her bare breasts hanging gently, their tips rosy and puckered. God, she was lovely, and Cameron wanted her, hungered for her. She was his for the taking. He could have her once and remember this night forever.
“Damn it,” he said gruffly.
He couldn’t do it. She was a virgin, a lady of the peerage, the daughter of an earl, for God’s sake. Cameron removed her hands from his coat. “Rose, we’re going to stop now.”
“No, no.” She pulled at his hands, trying to release her arms. “I want to, Cameron.”
“Sweetheart, I need to leave you while I still have a shred of sanity left.” He pulled her to her feet. “You’ll regret it if I take you this way, outside, in the grass. You deserve to be loved in the comfort of a bed. Your first time shouldn’t be like this.”
“No,” Rose said. “If…If this is all we’ll ever have, I want it now. Please.”
“You deserve more. You deserve better. Better than…”
“What?” she asked, toying with his cravat. “Better than what, Cameron?”
He looked down at the grass, at his feet shod in shiny leather boots. His formal wear had cost more than he normally paid for clothing in a year, yet he had used a portion of the money he had earned from the duke’s waltz, money that could have helped his family. The duke had requested his presence at the wedding ball as composer of the piece, and Cameron had bought the garments so he wouldn’t look like a mere peasant. He had bought them for Rose. To impress her. He knew he was attractive to women. He knew he looked elegant in his black courtly clothes. He knew she would notice him, and she had. But he was still a tenant on the duke’s land. The expensive suit didn’t change that. He was nothing.
“Better than me, Rose,” he said quietly.
Rose reached up and touched his cheek. “You’re the one I want. The one I’ve always wanted. Perhaps we can’t be together for the long- term, but—”
“Then what is the point of this?” he asked gently. “I’ll ruin you.”
“I don’t care.” She reached for his arousal through his trousers. “You still want me.”
“God, yes.”
“Then take me, Cameron. I’m yours tonight.”
God forgive him his weakness. He pulled her to him and kissed her passionately, easing her down to the grass once again. He reached under her skirts and stroked her. She was still wet for him. He hastily unbuttoned his trousers, freeing his aching erection, and moved on top of her.
“It may hurt a bit,” he said. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
“Yes, I know. It will be all right.”
He nudged the head of his cock through the slit in her drawers, rubbing it against her juices. “Oh God,” he groaned. “Oh God, Rose.” He teased her entrance, braced himself to begin his descent.
“No!” Rose pushed against his shoulder, her eyes suddenly icy and full of terror. “No! I changed my mind. I can’t, I can’t!”
He moved away from her quickly, the unsated hunger almost unbearable. “Damn you,” he said between clenched teeth. “I gave you two chances to stop me, you little cocktease. Damn you!”
Rose began to weep quietly, hurriedly tucking her breasts back into her bodice. She stood. “Please forgive me,” she said, her gaze cast downward. She ran away, sobbing.
“Damn it,” Cameron said under his breath, and then, loudly, his voice strained with remorse, “I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it! Come back, sweetheart. Please!” He would hold her and comfort her, tell her it was all right, that he would wait for her.
But Rose ignored him and ran toward the mansion, disappearing into the vacant ballroom.
Cameron buttoned his trousers, his arousal still burning. “Fuck you, you stupid idiot. How could you believe she actually wanted you?”
He walked away from the house. He couldn’t go in and join the party for dinner. If he missed out on a chance for another commission, so be it. He couldn’t see Rose again. Never again. It was over. Hell, it hadn’t even begun.
It never could.
He trudged home to his cottage on the Lybrook land. The sun was edging over the horizon when he finally fell into his bed, exhausted, his feet blistering from the long walk in his new boots.
Continue Sex and the Season with Book Two: Rose in Bloom