A Most Naked Solution Page 11

  He lowered his hand to the softness between her legs, his body clenching at the wet, molten heat that met his fingers. He gently parted her folds, pleasuring her until she bucked wildly in his arms. He took each motion, each sound, and tucked it deep in his heart. The knowledge of her pleasure drove his own until he groaned with the impossible intensity.

  Her head tipped back and she cried out his name. She arched against him as she climaxed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. In that moment, he gently caught her chin, holding her gaze. Her eyes were wide, unguarded, vulnerable, yet she didn’t look away.

  Camden forgot how to breathe. He forgot everything but the connection burning between them.

  But then her head dropped to his chest, breaking the bond. He traced his lips down the side of her neck, not willing to let her go.

  Her head lifted, her expression wary as if her more rational self hadn’t decided whether to trust him. But her passion was unchanged. “Shall we try the desk?”

  Before he could answer, she’d lifted herself onto the edge and spread her legs, drawing him between her knees, stroking him until it took every ounce of self-control he had to keep sane.

  Her teeth bit her lower lip when he caressed up and down her inner thighs. “Please, I want—”

  He paused there at her slick entrance, allowing himself only small teasing movements, tormenting them both. “Want what?” He didn’t know what he’d do if she said she just wanted to see if she could make love to someone. He’d seen more than that in her gaze. He needed her to be willing to admit it.

  Yet despite all his pride, he didn’t think he’d be strong enough to back away no matter her answer.

  “I want you, Camden. I want all of you.”

  That was close enough to what he needed to hear. Camden plunged forward, claiming the ecstasy of her body. He tried to slow his movements, but she wouldn’t let him, lying back on the desk, her legs wrapping around his waist, urging him on.

  “I love you,” he whispered. She might not be ready to hear the words, but he had to speak them. Loving her with his body couldn’t be separated from loving her with his soul.

  When he dropped his hand to the place where their bodies joined, she cried out again. “I think I’ve always loved you” was the reply he heard before his body lost to the brutal release that thundered through him, deluging every nerve ending with utter satisfaction.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sophia sat snuggled in Camden’s lap in his chair in front of the desk.

  “I may never be able to do a single proof at that desk again.” His lips moved against the sensitive spot below her ear.

  She traced a finger down the bridge of his nose. “Have any other places I can ruin?”

  He nipped her lightly. “I never said you ruined it. In fact, I was thinking of having it preserved as a shrine to perfection.”

  She rested her head on his chest, not daring to speak anymore. She had no idea what she’d say if he questioned her about what she’d confessed.

  She’d said she loved him.

  Was it true? It felt true. When she had said the words, everything broken in her life had suddenly seemed whole.

  But was it really? Did those words really have that power or did she just want them to?

  A man stomped in the corridor, clearing his throat loudly.

  “I think your butler wishes to speak to you.”

  Camden circled her nipple with his thumb. “We can ignore him.”

  She barely stopped a moan. “We’ll have to leave the room at some point. I find I’m quite hungry.”

  Camden lifted her from his lap, smoothing his hand down her side. “I meant what I said. I love you, Sophia.”

  She caught his hand, brushing her lips across the ink stains that she found so intriguing, hoping he’d understand her acceptance and not press her more. “Do you see my shift?”

  After several rushed, giggling moments they managed to dress and sit by the desk. Not that she doubted that anyone looking at them wouldn’t know exactly what they’d done, but at least this way she might be able to manage looking Rafferty in the eye again.

  Someday.

  His knock was light on the door. “Sir, I hate to disturb you during your . . . work. But the Runner claims he needs to speak to you urgently. There is something amiss with the investigation.”

  When they entered the parlor, Williamson was pacing back and forth in front of the fire. “I can’t find the gardener.”

  “He wasn’t with Mrs. Haws?” Camden asked.

  An icy fear filled Sophia’s chest. “I saw him a few hours ago. He said he was going to deliver the list to you.”

  Williamson shook his head. “He didn’t. And he never returned to your house. I checked with your servants.”

  Sophia’s hands shook. “Something must have happened to him. Perhaps you missed each other. Took separate paths.” Her hands pressed against her cheeks. “What if he was harmed by an attack meant for me?”

  Williamson tapped his fingers on his leg. “Or he was responsible for your attacks and he’s running.”

  “Impossible. He’s always protected me.” She stiffened her spine. “We have to find him.”

  Camden was already in the corridor, calling for his coach.

  “You said you saw the list,” Williamson said. “Can you recreate it for me? If something has happened to him, it could be tied to one of the women on the list.”

  “I think so.” She hurried to the side table and wrote the names down, at least the ones she could remember. But she might be missing someone.

  Camden’s hand settled on her shoulder. “We know Wicken was headed for town. We’ll go there first. We can double check your list with Mrs. Haws’s.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were rattling toward the center of the village. As soon as the carriage stopped, Sophia leapt down without waiting for assistance. She ran into the tavern with Camden close behind her.

  “Sweet mercy, what is it, child?” Mrs. Haws paused, a pitcher of ale above the tankard of one of her customers.

  “More ale!” someone else shouted from the other side of the room.

  “I can’t be in two places at once, now, can I?” Mrs. Haws glared. “Sorry, my lady. I’m a bit short on help today.”

  “Wicken. Have you seen him?”

  She shook her head. “No. The Runner was looking for him, too. Did he not find him?”

  Sophia shook her head and pulled out the paper. “Are these all the names on the list you both made?”

  Mrs. Haws took the paper and squinted at it. “I think so. No, wait. Lottie. My serving girl. She’s missing. From the list and from my tavern.”

  Sophia’s head swam. Only Camden’s hands on her waist steadied her.

  “What is it?” he asked Sophia. “Do you know anything about Lottie?”

  “She’s Wicken’s daughter. And I didn’t leave her name off the list. It wasn’t on the one he showed me.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lottie’s cottage was dark as they approached. Even in the dwindling twilight, the perfectly kept vegetables and lush roses clearly showed Wicken’s touch. But there was no sign of anyone.

  Camden knocked on the door.

  No answer.

  He peered in one of the windows but could see nothing in the darkness.

  “We still don’t know what this means,” Sophia said.

  Camden tightened his arm around her shoulders and kept silent.

  But Williamson had no such qualms. “He’s probably long fled with his family.” He sniffed the air. “There hasn’t been a fire at this house today.”

  “I won’t believe him guilty until I have proof.”

  Williamson snorted. “I’ll check around back.”

  A sharp pain exploded in Camden’s shoulder. “What the devil?” He shoved Sophia behind him as another rock bounced off his chest. “Who—”

  There was a thump and then sounds of a scuffle around the edge of the house. “Williamson might need hel
p. Stay here,” he told Sophia.

  But when he ran toward the sounds of the struggle, Sophia was right behind him.

  “Let me go, you bloody bastard,” shouted a young voice.

  Camden halted barely in time to keep from colliding with Williamson, who was coming around the corner, a lad restrained in front of him.

  “This is the boy who was throwing rocks. Know him?”

  The boy’s face was hard to see in the darkness, but then he turned fully toward her and she gasped. “This is Lottie’s son, Lewis. Wicken’s grandson.”

  The boy struggled against Williamson. “Like you don’t know who else I am. Like you don’t know the person you robbed.”

  Sophia tipped her head and spoke softly. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re speaking of.”

  The boy spat. “You whore.”

  That Camden would have none of. He stepped in front of the boy. “If you speak to Lady Harding that way again there will be consequences.”

  “How about the consequences she should get for stealing my inheritance?” But some of the bluster had left the lad, making him seem younger, frailer.

  “Perhaps you should explain,” Sophia said.

  The boy glowered. “As if you don’t know. My father always told me I’d be living with him, except you wouldn’t let me.”

  “What does Lady Harding have to do with your father?” Williamson asked.

  But the pieces suddenly fell in place for Camden, and he knew from Sophia’s inhale that she’d realized the same thing.

  Lord Harding had been his father. Camden could see it now in the coloring of the boy’s hair and his slight build.

  “He promised he’d set money aside for me, money that you couldn’t touch. The estate was settled last week. Where is my money?” The boy’s voice cracked. “It’s not like you need it.”

  “You were behind the attacks on Lady Harding,” Camden said.

  The boy thrashed suddenly. “Why shouldn’t I? She killed him. She killed my father. My grandfather told me you’d come to investigate her.”

  It was his fault the attacks had been directed at her, but Camden tucked that stab of guilt away to apologize for later. “You tried to kill her for revenge.”

  The boy’s eyes were wide in the moonlight. “No. I tried to scare her. Let her know that I wasn’t going to give up my money without a fight.”

  “You shot at her.”

  “I shot above her head. And tried to frighten her with the other things. But she didn’t even care. It’s my money. It might not seem a lot to you, but it’s a fortune to me.”

  Sophia’s hands clasped tightly in front of her. “There was no money for you in the will. I did not even know you were Lord Harding’s son until now.”

  “Lies!” the boy cried, his hair falling over his eyes. “He told me how you, so high and mighty, were embarrassed by his bastard.”

  Camden tried to feel compassion for the boy, but it was difficult. Any of his acts could have hurt Sophia. “Your father only married Lady Harding three years ago. If he was going to claim you, why didn’t he do it?”

  Sophia, of course, did what she could to protect the boy and soften the truth. “Lord Harding told people what he wanted them to believe. To make himself look good. He lied to many people. Even to me. I’m sorry.”

  The boy paused, tears glistening in his eyes, but then he spat. “You killed him.”

  “Trying to cast blame?” Williamson asked. “Did you get tired of waiting for your money? Did you get bitter at him and his wife for the wrongs you thought she did you?”

  “It wasn’t Lewis. Let him go.” Wicken stepped out of the darkness into the garden. “I killed Harding.”

  Sophia stared at the older man, willing him to take the words back. But he stood resolute, his chin lifted, aged shoulders squared. It had been Wicken after all, he—

  A thought occurred to her. “Tubs said the killer was hired by a woman.”

  Wicken ducked his head. “He must have been mistaken. I hired the man—”

  “Two men,” Sophia corrected.

  Wicken rubbed his arm. “I did. You hear me, Lord Grey. You and the constable can arrest me and take me away.”

  “No.” A third voice spoke. A woman’s voice. Lottie came to stand beside her father. Her hair was concealed in a kerchief and a shawl was around her shoulders.

  “Lottie, Lewis is back. Just take him and leave like we’d planned.”

  The woman hugged her arms tightly around her. “It was me, Da. I think you’ve always known it.”

  “Lottie—”

  “No. You can’t protect me any longer.”

  The boy broke away from Williamson and threw himself at his mother, his bony arms wrapping around her waist. “It was Lady Harding. It was.”

  Lottie rested her cheek on the top of her son’s head. “I wouldn’t let him ruin you, too. I couldn’t let his lies hurt you.”

  “But they weren’t lies. The money—”

  “There was no money. He never had any intention of claiming you, not even when he demanded you quit your apprenticeship with the blacksmith. When I confronted him about it, he went wild with rage. He didn’t want his son dirtied in trade but he wouldn’t give a cent to provide for you. He beat me. I couldn’t take the chance that someday he’d hurt you, too.” She looked up at Sophia then, the horror and pain in her eyes finding a perfect echo inside her.

  If she had a child, she might have done the same thing.

  “No!” the boy shouted, his shoulders jerking.

  “He broke Grandda’s arm.”

  “He said it was an accident. He—”

  “He broke your grandfather’s arm because Lord Harding was trying to hurt me,” Sophia said.

  “You must have deserved it.”

  Camden, Williamson, and Wicken all started to protest, but she cut them off. “No. I did not.” The truth in her words sunk deep, flinging open a darkly shuttered corner of her soul that she didn’t know still existed.

  You have to think you’re worth protecting, Camden had said.

  Her voice gained strength as she spoke. “Your father was a cruel, insecure man. He failed us all. But the way he decided to act wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t your mother’s fault and it wasn’t yours.”

  Lewis buried his face in his mother’s bosom, sobs wracking his body. Wicken took them both in his arms, tears tracking down his cheeks.

  “What do you want me to do, sir?” Williamson asked. “Do you want to press charges against the boy or just the mother?”

  Wicken turned toward them, putting his family behind him, shielding them as he had her.

  “How many more lives does Richard have to ruin?” she asked Camden.

  His hand briefly clasped hers, then he stepped away. “Come with me around the side of the cottage to the coach, Williamson. I have rope inside. As a justice of the peace, I must act.”

  “Shouldn’t I—”

  “Come, Williamson. They’ll only be out of sight for a moment.”

  And Sophia realized what he was letting her do.

  Williamson’s eyes narrowed, but he followed.

  “Go,” Sophia said as soon as Camden was around the corner.

  “My lady?” Wicken asked.

  “Go, now. Disappear.”

  Wicken walked to her side, a gnarled finger wiping away a tear she didn’t know was on her cheek.

  “Go.”

  “I damn Lord Harding, but I will bless you forever, my lady. I swear I’ll watch over them. Nothing like this will be allowed to happen again.” With a slow shuffle, he led his family into the darkness.

  Camden and Williamson returned with a rope.

  Williamson swore. “You let a killer go free.”

  Camden lifted a brow. “It’s unfortunate they escaped.” But his arms wrapped around her waist, his hands tender.

  Williamson shook his head in resignation. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me which direction they went, my lady?”

  “It
was too dark.”

  Williamson glanced around. “I suppose I must search so I can report I gave chase.” He grumbled and disappeared into the darkness, in the opposite direction Wicken had chosen.

  Sophia threw her arms around Camden, pressing a kiss to his throat. “Thank you.”

  He cupped her chin, his lips finding her mouth. “I have no idea what you mean. I’ll have to tell everyone I was eluded by an old man, a woman, and a boy.”

  A moan whispered from her throat as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over hers. But she knew with a sinking certainty what she must do.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Camden lifted his head long enough to grin. “I— What’s wrong?”

  She took a deep breath. She was worth protecting, she reminded herself. And she was worth waiting for. “I love you, but there are parts of me that are not as healed as I thought. I want to make you happy, so much it scares me. I love you, but I said it last night because I knew it would please you, not because I was ready. You were right, I need time.”

  A crease slashed his brow. “I was a fool. Don’t listen to me.”

  “I need to protect myself.” She owed it to Camden. She owed it to herself.

  He swallowed. “What do you need to do?”

  “I have nine months left of my mourning. I’m going to leave Weltford. Travel. Do whatever I wish. See my family, perhaps. I’ve been avoiding them, you know. I could not face them.”

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He said it with such conviction that her heart clenched. It almost changed her mind.

  “I believed that before. But I didn’t know that until now.”

  “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll give you whatever space you need.”

  She took a deep breath, drawing in the scents of the garden to steady her. The damp soil. The roses. And Camden. “But I don’t know if I could stay away from you. If I was here, I couldn’t stop from giving you everything I am. And I can’t do that until I am woman I want to give.”