Chapter 23
Ainsley rushed to Cameron. “Good heavens, you didn’t kill him, did you?”
Cameron glanced over the wall. “No, he’s landed in a wagon. Full of shit.”
Ainsley pressed her hand over her mouth, stemming a hysterical laugh.
Cameron focused on her as though just seeing her. “Ainsley, what the devil are you doing out here?”
“Following you. I was afraid his thugs would waylay you.”
“And if they had, what would you have done? Beaten them off with your fan?”
“I was going to shout for the police. I can scream very loudly.”
Cameron took Ainsley’s arm and steered her back toward the casino, where a crowd pretending not to be interested had gathered. “We’re leaving.”
“That’s likely a good idea.”
Cameron was already signaling for his servant to run for his carriage. Another hurried back inside for Ainsley’s wraps, emerging with them as the carriage rolled up.
Ainsley and Cameron rode in silence as the coach bumped its way back to the hotel, Cameron staring out of the window.
She sensed his restlessness and knew that but for her presence, he’d have been striding up and down the streets of Monte Carlo to burn off his rage. Cameron was escorting Ainsley home for her protection, not because he wanted to go himself.
“I thought you were going to kill him,” she said into the darkness.
Cameron looked down at her. “Hmm?”
“Durand. You couldn’t have known that wagon would be there.”
His eyes glinted. “The drop wasn’t that high. I wanted to scare him off. I am many things, my wife, but not a murderer.”
“Not when there’s a cartload of dung handy, certainly.”
“I hope it ruined his opera cloak. I hate the damn things.”
Ainsley wormed her fingers under the crook of his arm, felt his rigidity, his knowledge that she’d heard every word Durand had said. “I dislike to ask an obvious question,” she said. “but why did you marry Lady Elizabeth in the first place?”
Cameron grunted. “She dazzled me, I suppose. I was still at university, saw a glamorous woman, and I snatched her up. I found out too late what she was like, and by then, she was carrying Daniel.”
And Cameron had wanted to keep her close to protect the unborn Daniel. “I know you don’t wish me to say this, but I’m sorry,” Ainsley said. “I’m sorry about all that’s happened to you. It shouldn’t have.”
Cameron rested his big hand over hers. “But it did. And I live with the ghosts.” He looked down at her, his eyes holding more warmth. “The ghosts haven’t plagued me as much lately.”
Now she did dare to snuggle into him, and he kept hold of her hand.
“I had some other news today,” Cameron said after a time. “From Pierson. I meant to tell you, but then Daniel . . .”
Ainsley felt a chill. “About Jasmine? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine, or at least, I think she is. I wrote to Pierson, and I got his answer today. Bloody man won’t see reason. I want that horse, Ainsley.”
“And he won’t sell?”
“No, but I’ve at least browbeaten him into letting me train her again. He now informs me I will do it for no training fee, in return for the money he lost because I couldn’t make her win at Doncaster.” Cameron made a noise of disgust. “I wager all other trainers turned him away, and he’s desperate. He wants to pretend he’s not desperate, that he still has the upper hand. Ingrate.”
“You’ll turn him down, then?”
Cameron looked at her, eyes still burning with anger. “Hell, no. I don’t need the money. I need Jasmine.”
Ainsley rubbed his shoulder. “You want to go back to England, don’t you, Cam? Right now, I mean.”
He didn’t look at her. “I want to train her, Ainsley. I’ll make her into a damn good racer. She has so much potential, all wasted by Pierson.”
“What I mean is, you hate it here. It doesn’t matter how many sunrises we watch from the top of the hill, or how many times you win at cards. Your heart’s not in it. You’re made to be standing in a paddock holding a lounge line, not sitting at a baccarat table.”
Cameron reached down to smooth a lock of her hair. “And what the devil will you do while I’m standing in a paddock holding a lounge line?”
“Watch. Ride. Be the lady of the manor. Trust me, I’ll have plenty to do.”
Cameron ran his thumb along the thin gold bracelet he’d given her for New Year’s. “My estate in Berkshire is far from any city. There’s nothing to do there but horses. And my brothers will drift down to the estate when I start training. They use it as an excuse to escape whatever it is they’re supposed to be doing.”
“It sounds perfect.” Ainsley grew animated. “We can invite them all, Beth and Isabella and the children if they can manage it. They’re both due in late spring. Or afterward if they can’t come in spring. I’m certain we can have a lovely summer party with everyone there.”
Ainsley broke off when she saw Cameron’s look, a man contemplating his bachelor home overrun with women, babies, and nannies.
“It’s just a thought,” she said quickly. “Are you telling me, Cam, that we’ve stayed here all this time because you thought I liked it here?”
“You do like it here.”
“Well, yes, it’s exciting, but not what I want to do forever.”
Cameron watched her with a pensive look. “You’re a woman, Ainsley.”
“Yes, I know that. I have been for many years.”
“You’re supposed to want a constant flow of gowns and jewelry and to be seen in them every night.”
“The endless parade of fashion can become a bit dull.”
“You’re bored?” His frown deepened. “You should have told me. I can take you anywhere. Rome, Venice, even Egypt if you want.”
Ainsley put her fingers to his lips. “Why should we flutter around the world? I don’t wish to if it means I watch you be unhappy and impatient.”
Cameron gave a restless sigh. “I don’t understand what you want, Ainsley.”
“I want to be with you.”
“While I’m knee deep in mud? My estate is miles from any restaurant.”
“Good. I’d love a bit of old-fashioned Scottish cooking. Your Berkshire cook knows how to make bannocks and porridge, doesn’t she?”
“She’s Scottish.”
“Well, then that’s settled.”
“Ainsley, stop. Stop being so damned cheerful about everything.”
“I can be grumpy if you want.” She gave him a mock scowl.
Cameron didn’t laugh. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”
Ainsley lifted the fist he’d rested on his thigh and kissed his large fingers. “I’m trying to tell you. You’re a generous man, and I can’t lie and say I don’t want the beautiful frocks and jewels you give me. But really, I ran away from my respectable life to be with you. You, Cameron Mackenzie. I don’t care if we’re in the most expensive hotel in Monte Carlo or in a hovel with nothing but oat cakes for dinner.”
The look he gave her bordered on the anguished. “Why the hell would you want that?”
“I like oat cakes. Especially with a little honey.”
“Damn it, I mean why would you want me? Look at you. I’ve introduced you to the most corrupt of the
