Because that was what men did to women.
Somehow, she managed to find air. “You cannot just wish my feelings different—”
He silenced her with a kiss that stole her breath again, a soft press of his mouth so warm and tender it seemed to melt her very bones. When he pulled back, she stared at him, silent.
His eyes darkened with concern. “Is something amiss?”
“Your lips are soft,” she murmured. She’d never known a man’s lips could be soft. Her husband’s sure hadn’t been.
Sir Cameron smiled broadly. “So are yours.”
“But—”
“Hush.” His mouth touched hers again. His arms slid around to pull her close, and she unwittingly let him draw her along the bench until her body was clasped tightly to his. Of their own accord, it seemed, her hands crept up and stole around his neck, threading themselves in the silky-softness of his hair.
As their lips moved together, she abandoned herself to a whirl of new sensations. So strange, so thrilling, so wondrous…
So improper.
She withdrew at once, glancing about, relieved to find they’d drifted far enough downstream that no one else was in sight. “I—”
“Hush,” he said again, taking her face in his hands and pressing his forehead against hers.
She stared into his eyes, so very close to hers, seeing in their depths an earnestness and an honesty she’d never before sensed in any man. But it was only because he was so young. He hadn’t experienced the way life could bruise and batter, not just the body but also the spirit.
“You liked kissing me,” he whispered. “So why are you trying to escape?”
“I’m not.” She tried to shake her head, but only succeeded in rubbing noses. “I just…I only…well, you surprised me, is all.”
“I want to take you home with me, Clarice. I told you so yesterday.”
“You were jesting,” she breathed, trying to quash that part of her that hoped.
His lips brushed hers again, and her eyes drifted closed, then popped back open in dismay when he broke the kiss.
The secret little smile was waiting for her. “Aye, you like it. And I’m not so sure I was jesting.”
Before she could react to that, his mouth met hers once more.
This kiss felt sublime. She sank into it, reveling in new feelings. It seemed a long time before he pulled away.
As she fought to calm her breathing and recover her wits, he grazed her cheek with the backs of his long fingers. “You seem so…innocent,” he murmured, his hazel eyes growing murky, a slight blush confirming his meaning. “But you cannot be. You have a daughter, a lovely bright daughter who could charm the warts off a toad, if she so chose.”
Clarice smiled faintly. “I’ve no doubt of that, sir.” Then she sobered. “I did not give birth to Mary. She was brought to me an orphan, a year ago, by Lord Cainewood. But I’m not ‘innocent,’ as you say. I was married seven years. And…” She looked down, her gaze settling on the bottom of the old boat.
He touched her hand and spoke in a low, kind voice. “And you were nearly raped, is that what you wanted to tell me? You needn’t say the words. I’ve learned from Caithren what happened—your sorrowful ordeal that ultimately brought her together with her new husband. Lord Cainewood blames himself, as I understand it.”
“It wasn’t his fault, though I reckon he may feel responsible. The man was out to hurt him and mistakenly thought he could do it through me. He thought”—she pushed at one of the oars with the toe of her shoe, then looked up at him—“he thought I was Lord Cainewood’s mistress.”
He rubbed a thumb under her chin. “You’re certainly pretty enough.”
She was as unused to compliments as she was to physical affection, and she didn’t know how to respond to either. So she didn’t. “The man would have finished the job he’d started, except for what happened to Mary.”
“Which was?”
“She was in his way. So he slammed her against a wall. When she lay there, still as death, he took off, afraid he’d killed her.”
“Which he nearly did, from what I’ve been told.”
She nodded gravely. “She didn’t awaken for weeks. But she’s better now.”
“Thank God for that.”
“I do,” she said in a whisper. “Every day.” From the look in her eyes, Cam didn’t doubt it. “But the truth is that now I’m healed I don’t think of what almost happened to me overmuch…it was nothing I hadn’t experienced before.”
He’d known it somehow, but the confirmation was like a hoof to the gut. “Before?”
“Within my marriage.”
He was silent for a long moment, holding himself perfectly still. He felt filled with rage he wanted desperately to unleash on those responsible for her pain. But the men who had hurt Clarice were dead, and anger wouldn’t help her now.
When the roaring in his ears had ceased and his temper was under control, he took one of her hands. “It’s sorry I am for you, Clarice. I’m sorry you were hurt, this last time and the times before. And I’m sorry because…I don’t understand. As a man, I don’t think I’ll ever understand.”
“You understand very well,” she said, wonder in her voice.
Cameron sensed that she wanted to say more. Steeling himself, he decided if she could survive such cruelty, surely he could bear the mere hearing of it. He moved away to give her space. “Would you tell me about your marriage?”
“I was fifteen.” She focused down at her hands clasped in her lap. “My folks had other mouths to feed. Will needed a wife and children. He was getting on in years—forty-five, he was—and he wanted to breed a family to support him in his dotage.”
“Your parents married you off to a man thrice your age?”
She looked up, her eyes flashing with challenge. “Is that so different from what you’re asking?”
He gazed at her unblinkingly. “Aye. It is.”
For a moment, that challenge
