A Most Naked Solution Page 8

  “Were you hoping I’d be more stubborn?” He rubbed absently at the new ink on his fingertips.

  “No—expecting, I suppose. I’m not used to being listened to.”

  “I listen,” Camden said, his fingers stilled. “Besides, I have no desire to face that woman alone.” His hand grazed her cheek, but unlike last night, there was no doubt he’d touched her. She felt the warmth of his hand. The tickle against her cheek. “And I’ll know you aren’t getting into trouble.”

  His hand dropped back to his side and she wanted to lift it, to turn her lips against his palm. What would he do if she did?

  Almost, she had enough courage to find out. Almost.

  “I’m not a woman who gets into trouble.” As much as she might wish to.

  Camden lifted an eyebrow. “You have been a veritable thorn in my side.”

  Sophia couldn’t help grinning at that.

  “That wasn’t entirely a compliment,” he said, his eyes narrowed, but a slight smile played about his lips.

  “I have never mattered enough to anyone to be a thorn.” As much honesty as she’d given him in the past hour, she hadn’t intended to give him that much. Besides, it sounded far too much like she wanted his comfort.

  She didn’t.

  She spun toward the door. “Shall we go?”

  It wasn’t until she had walked down the front steps that she realized she still wasn’t wearing shoes.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mrs. Ovard had the kind of pinched, bitter timelessness that made it impossible to tell if she was forty or seventy. Her high cheekbones must have given her a striking look as a young woman, but now they carved gaunt hollows in her papery cheeks.

  Camden respected Sophia’s courage all the more, facing this woman. He certainly didn’t ever intend to come back and visit the former housekeeper unless forced to.

  “—despicable manners. Perhaps I will send you back to my sister and you can starve with all the rest of her squalling brats.”

  The young maid—apparently a niece as well—who had let them into the cottage trembled under the old woman’s wrath. “Shall I fetch the tea—”

  “Did my fool of a sister rut with a donkey to produce you? No. No tea. These people are not guests and will not be staying.” She whirled on them, or rather on Sophia. “I don’t know what you think you have to say to me, but I have no desire to hear it.” Her lip curled as she surveyed Camden. “And you, apparently, failed to listen to my warnings.”

  “I heard your accusations. I just failed to find any truth in them.”

  “How did she convince you of her innocence?” The vulgar accusation in the woman’s tone made her suspicions clear.

  Camden moved closer to Sophia, trying to shield her from some of the woman’s cruelty.

  But Sophia spoke, her voice calm, her back straight. “The evidence did that.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t beg?” Her sneer spread wrinkles over the entire left side of her face. “You were good at that, I remember. I’ve always wondered if that’s how you convinced Richard to marry you—or if you just spread your legs.”

  Sophia stiffened but did not reply.

  Mrs. Ovard crowded her. “I want you out of my house, you worthless thief.”

  Thief? That wasn’t the epithet Camden had expected. Mrs. Ovard must have seen his interest because she planted her hands on her waist. “Lord Harding had a large amount set aside for me in his will. But did I ever see a penny of it?”

  “There was no money,” Sophia said, resignedly. “He didn’t leave any money for anyone despite whatever promises he made. As I’m sure you know. His solicitor finished settling the estate last week. I know you met with him.”

  “The pension you gave me isn’t enough for a dog.”

  Sophia had provided her with a pension? The woman should have been turned out into the gutter. In fact, he almost hoped Mrs. Ovard was guilty. He wouldn’t have any qualms sending her to prison. “Where were you yesterday morning?”

  Mrs. Ovard stiffened. “What business is that of yours?”

  “Someone tried to shoot Lady Harding.”

  The color fled from Mrs. Ovard’s face, leaving it a sickly yellow. “I was here. My maid will vouch to that.”

  Camden glanced over at the maid, who was staring at Sophia. As he watched, the young girl straightened, copying Sophia’s bearing and expression.

  Mrs. Ovard drew back as if she’d been slapped. “Don’t go getting above yourself, Margaret, and do not dare lie. Liars burn in hell.”

  Margaret’s courage lasted for another minute, then crumpled along with her face. “She was here. She wrote letters and had tea with the vicar’s wife.”

  Mrs. Ovard collapsed into a nearby chair.

  “You could have hired someone. Like you hired someone to kill Lord Harding,” Camden said, not feeling particularly merciful.

  “I wouldn’t have killed Richard.” For a moment she clutched her chest, grief twisting over her face. “He may have been fool enough to marry her. But at least he realized his mistake.”

  Margaret spoke up again from the corner. “If the killer was hired, it couldn’t have been her. She spends every last pence her ladyship pays on laudanum. Stirs it in her tea. Even when the vicar’s wife is here.”

  Mrs. Ovard leapt to her feet, lunging for Margaret, her fingers curving into claws. “I’ll beat you for your insolence.”

  Sophia stepped into the housekeeper’s path. “My husband may have been large enough to beat me, but you are not. And you will have to pass through me to get her.”

  Camden wasn’t entirely sure. Mrs. Ovard was a good six inches taller.

  But then he saw Sophia’s eyes.

  Mrs. Ovard had no idea the danger she was in.

  Or perhaps she did, because she froze, her hands dropping to her sides.

  “My husband may have been allowed to strike me, but if you so much as lay a hand on Margaret, I will press charges.”

  Mrs. Ovard inched backward, her knees bumping against her chair. “Oh, will you? And what will you do if I tell the court every little dirty thing I know about you and your husband?”

  Sophia gave a half smile. “You and Richard really would have been perfect for each other. But I no longer care what the world thinks. And for everything you say against me, I will reveal one of your secrets. Come, Margaret. I find myself in need of a new maid.”

  “What?” Mrs. Ovard shrieked. “You worthless, gutter—”

  Neither Sophia nor Margaret looked back.

  But Camden did. “You seem to labor under some confusion, Mrs. Ovard. Lady Harding is no longer defenseless and without a protector. Your foul abuse of her character will cease at once or I shall take a close look at the inventory of things that went missing at the same time you were let go from Harding House. Understood?”

  Her silence was the closest thing he supposed he’d get to acceptance. He followed Sophia out into the street, feeling the need to pull clean air into his lungs. She stood a few yards down next to the coach, her head bent over the young girl’s. Margaret nodded, her braids bouncing before she practically skipped away.

  Camden stopped at Sophia’s side, speaking her name softly so he didn’t startle her before placing his hand on her lower back to assist her into the coach. She still she spun toward him, though, but this time her cheeks flushed with triumph and her sapphire eyes sparkled. “I did it. I faced her.” She accepted his hand and climbed into the forward-facing seat.

  Unlike her normal serenity, she shifted excitedly in her seat as if the elation in her fought to free itself.

  She could have no idea how alluring her courage in defense of the maid had been.

  Or the fantasies her fierce defense had inspired. How he’d wanted to pick her up and carry her to the privacy of his carriage where he would follow her triumphant flush past the neckline of her gown and see how far he could make it spread.

  He only wished her defense of herself had been as staunch.

&nb
sp; She grinned, leaning forward. “You can have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Then suddenly she stood, and before he could ask her what was amiss, she leaned forward, braced her hands on his knees, and kissed him. Her lips were quick, soft, fierce. Obliterating his paltry fantasies with the throbbing ecstasy of reality. “And that as well.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Up this close, she could see a thin circle of amber around the dark brown rims of his pupils, the slight indent on the bridge of his nose from his spectacles. The warmth of his breath brushed across her lips.

  She tried to savor it all.

  Because Camden still hadn’t moved. And she was positive he’d never let her this close to him again.

  She was a fool to think that he wanted her kiss, but her victory had made her feel brave. She wasn’t the type men dreamt of. She was plain and pale, almost to the point of being invisible.

  But then Camden touched her. Starting at the very tips, he dragged his fingers over the back of hers, then across the skin on the top of her hands. By the time his fingers reached the inside of her elbows, her arms trembled. His hands continued up her arms to her shoulders, then his thumbs swept inward along the high, proper neckline of her gown. No closer to impropriety than her collarbone, the lowest the collar allowed him. She’d never hated wearing mourning more than at that moment.

  She wanted to sway forward and kiss him again. But her moment of confidence had passed, drained away by old fears. He had to be the one to kiss her. She had to know he wanted her. That he was more than pitying her. That she wasn’t as lacking as Richard had always told her she was.

  She knew she was supposed to be stronger than that. She’d told herself she was never going to allow Richard’s poison to rule her life. But what if that part hadn’t been poison? She’d never kissed another man. What if her kisses were as pathetic and unstimulating as he’d claimed? Richard had been a good kisser. At least that’s what other women had sighed about, but for Sophia it had always been awkward. She’d never been sure if she was doing it correctly. If she should apply more or less pressure.

  Camden’s lips claimed hers, and all thoughts fled.

  His mouth brushed hers—once, twice—before he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. His mouth sought hers again, this time without hesitation. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, but when she parted them, he didn’t plunder roughly. Instead, he continued to explore the soft flesh of her lips, awakening every nerve ending. Sensitizing the skin to the point that when he gently raked his teeth across her bottom lip, a moan rasped from her throat.

  She threaded her fingers through the short strands of his dark hair, struggling not to shift wantonly in his lap and reveal the extent of the tension between her legs. But the tighter she held herself, the closer it brought her to the brink of release.

  She’d spent many hours imagining kissing Camden when she was a young girl. And perhaps a few more since she’d met him again yesterday.

  Her imagination needed some serious work.

  Her back arched as his hand slipped down her spine. He kissed the way he solved his proofs: slow, intense, thorough. He didn’t move on until every sensation had been fully explored. Until every pleasure had been magnified.

  As his tongue twisted with hers, she could no longer keep her hips still. She shifted against him, pressing closer.

  They both froze when her hip brushed against the evidence of his arousal. Wild passion glittered in Camden’s eyes, so different from his normal methodical analysis. His chest heaved against hers.

  Not once had she thought the kiss awkward. Not for a moment had she even had time to think or analyze her actions. She’d simply been swept away.

  Camden’s finger traced back and forth across her lower lip. “You’ve been wanting to try that?”

  She licked the tip of his finger as it crossed the middle of her lip. “I had to know if I was capable.”

  Her backside hit the seat with a thump as Camden removed her from his lap. The heat in his eyes cooled. “Why did you kiss me? Because you wanted to kiss me or because you had something to prove to yourself?”

  She knew she’d offended him, but she owed him the truth. “Both.”

  Camden crossed his arms across his chest. “I find myself less than flattered, but what was your conclusion?”

  “That I should have been braver and ambushed you in the corridor of my parents’ house all those years ago.”

  His arms unfolded. “That would have been awkward. I, no doubt, would have been terribly intrigued and yet helpless to do a thing in return. You were far too young.”

  “Only by six years. You noticed me?”

  “Your brother once asked me why my lectures were so much better on some days than others. I’ll admit my vanity pushed me to try harder when I suspected you were listening.”

  Heat filled her cheeks. She wanted to ask if he’d gotten the letter confessing her girlish feelings, but what did she expect him to say? He obviously hadn’t cared enough to respond then. Did she truly want to know if that had changed?

  “So what were you trying to prove?” Camden asked, following the line of her jaw with his thumb.

  The warmth in her cheeks turned to a raging inferno. “My husband said I”—she cleared her throat—“lacked passion.”

  Camden swore, but then his expression softened. “I hope you no longer believe that.”

  “No.”

  His eyes darkened. “If you have anything else you’d like to prove, I hereby offer my services.”

  He was flirting. Some of her shock must have shown because he dragged his hand over his eyes. “I apologize if that wasn’t appropriate. I realize you are still in mourning. I do better with numbers than people.”

  “I do not mourn him.”

  “No, but I doubt you are looking for someone to take his place yet.”

  In her bed or in her heart? Which position was he considering? Both? “I kissed you, if you recall.”

  “Did you intend for it to go beyond the single kiss?” He shrugged at her silence, as if proving his point.

  It took her a moment to gain the courage she sought. “What if I did?”

  Camden’s rough exhale was interrupted by a tap on the window.

  Sophia jumped. She hadn’t realized Camden never had a chance to give the coachman the order to depart. They were still sitting outside Mrs. Ovard’s house. That would give her something to gossip about.

  “If you are ready, sir?”

  Camden nodded, raking his hand through his hair. “Indeed. We will return Lady Harding to her house.”

  “Very good, sir.” The coach swayed as the groom climbed back on his perch.

  The coach lurched into motion and rattled along the rough street. Sophia turned her face and watched as the village passed, trying to make sense of her churning emotions. Only one thing was clear: she wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to do more than kiss him again.

  Suddenly a horse screamed. The coach lurched, jolting along the cobbles with teeth-jarring speed.

  Bracing his hands against the wall of the coach, Camden strained to look out the window. “The coachman’s still on the box.”

  They heard shouts and warnings as the man tried to bring the vehicle back under control and the outriders followed behind.

  Sophia gasped as the coach wove hard to the right, slamming her shoulder into the lacquered paneling. Camden braced his long legs on opposite sides of the coach, then wrapped his arms around her, keeping her tight against his body as the coach swayed again. Villagers outside screamed and cursed.

  Sophia dug her fingers into Camden’s lapels, praying everyone would clear the path. Strangely, her worry wasn’t for herself. She felt uniquely safe in his arms. Even when Richard had still been charming, she’d always felt unbalanced around him. Yet in a coach hurtling toward destruction, she knew Camden would keep her protected.

  The coachman’s commands softened to soothing nonsense as the jolting sl
owed to a rough sway, then stopped completely.

  Camden was out of the coach the moment it stopped. “What the devil happened?”

  “Someone threw a rock at the horses, sir,” the coachman said, his voice shallow and winded.

  Sophia stood on shaky legs and went to the door of the coach. Camden assisted her down, his hand remaining on her waist afterward.

  “Did you see who it was?” Camden asked.

  The coachman shook his head, calming one of the horses whose nostrils still flared. “Didn’t see a thing. We were passing by the market and tavern. Hit the horse square in the flank.”

  Camden’s hand tightened at her waist, which seemed to surprise him because he then flinched away.

  The abashed grooms had nothing useful to add. The market had been filled with the usual villagers, but they hadn’t seen anyone actually throw the rock.

  Finally, Camden shook his head and helped her back into the coach. He settled across from her. “What changed in the past week? Why is someone attacking you now?”

  She tried to think. “You started to investigate again. You thought I was a murderer. Perhaps someone agreed with you?”

  Camden’s face stilled. “Bloody hell, who?”

  But she could think of very few people who cared enough about Richard to avenge him. Whenever they’d gone to an event, he’d always arranged to be in the center of everything. His looks and money guaranteed that. But very few people had come to the funeral.

  “I don’t know.” She wished if a woman had cared about Richard that much, she would have stolen him away.

  No, Sophia wouldn’t have wished Richard on anyone.

  “You won’t be safe until we do.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Camden went over the orders with Sophia’s butler one final time while she changed into a fresh gown and replaced her missing shoes. He’d arranged the footmen and grooms into patrols so there was always someone watching her house. He’d tried to convince her to stay with him until they’d identified her attacker, but she’d refused despite his perfectly logical arguments.