Defiant Impostor (24 page)

It was a sweet torture being so close to her, only two
doors away, yet he relished it, his anticipation becoming that much more keen.
Soon he would be sharing with her that master suite down the hall, their
wedding night perhaps only a few more weeks away—

Adam sat bolt upright as a scream rent the air, a sound
so tormented that it raised the hair on the back of his neck.

"Oh, God.
Camille
."

Hurling back the covers, he lunged from the bed and,
grabbing his breeches from a nearby chair, quickly pulled them on. He was
already racing down the hall, cursing the limp that was even now hindering him,
when another scream, more terrified than the last, hurled through her closed
door. Cursing again when he found it bolted—at his bidding, he feverishly
recalled—he jammed his shoulder against the door. He pushed with all his might
until it splintered near the lock and swung open, slamming against the wall.

"Camille!"

Across the dimly lit room he saw her flailing wildly,
and when she screamed again he guessed at once that she was locked in a
terrible nightmare. Reaching the bed, he swept her into his arms, sheets and
all, and held her close, although she beat at him desperately with her fists
and tried to twist free.

"No . . . no! God help me, please don't let them
beat me anymore! Oh, Papa, Papa, please don't let Keefer Dunn hurt me! No! No .
. . oh, Papaaa!"

"Camille, wake up! Wake up! It's me, Adam!"
Seeking to still her battering fists, he enfolded her so closely in his arms
that she could barely struggle. "It's Adam! No one is beating you. No one
is hurting you. I'm here with you, Camille. You're safe, love. You're
safe!"

As her eyes suddenly flickered open, he exhaled sharply
with relief. But when her slender body stiffened, he knew she was so
disoriented from her dream that she hadn't yet recognized him.

"Camille," he said, shaking her gently.
"Look at me, sweetheart. Look at me . . . I'm Adam."

She blinked, for the first time focusing her wide,
frightened eyes on his face. "Adam?"

"Yes, love, it's me." As she went nearly limp
in his arms, he sank down on the bed, cradling her to his chest. He stroked her
tousled hair, her tearstained cheeks, the silky-smooth skin of her bare upper
arm, speaking to her in low, soothing tones. "You had a bad dream, that's
all. Just a bad dream. No one's going to hurt you. I wouldn't let them."

"It was horrible . . . awful," she whispered,
trembling.

"I know, love, but it's over now. You're
safe."

A sharp knock on the doorjamb caused her to gasp in
fright and grow rigid again, and Adam swore under his breath.

"Who is it?"

"The footman, Mr. Thornton. Daniel. I heard Miss
Camille scream. Is she all right?"

"Daniel . . . no . . ." she breathed in the
voice of a child, scrambling from Adam's arms and over to the headboard, where
she curled into a ball, hugging her knees. "Make him go away . . . please.
Tell him to go away!"

Adam stared at her in surprise, wondering if someone
named Daniel had been in her nightmare. Whoever he was, whether real or
imagined, she was obviously terrified of him.

And who was Keefer Dunn? Had these two men perhaps been
servants in her aunt's home? Had Camille met them on the
Charming Nancy
? God help him, if he discovered that a sailor or
passenger had hurt her in any way aboard that ship, he would track the bastard
down if the fever hadn't claimed him and finish the job himself!

Adam rose in anger from the bed, his gaze fixed on the
servant's tall, broad-shouldered form standing just inside the door. "Miss
Cary is fine. She had a bad nightmare, but she's over it now."

"Are you sure, Mr. Thornton? Maybe I should fetch
Corliss to come and stay with her."

"That won't be necessary, Dan—" He stopped
himself just in time, glancing at Camille huddled so pitifully against the
headboard. He didn't want to utter that name again if it upset her so much.
"Go back to your post by the front door. I'll stay with her for a few more
minutes, just until I'm sure she's asleep. She'll be fine."

"If you say so, Mr. Thornton," the servant
replied, closing the door with its shattered lock behind him. "But if you
change your mind, I'll fetch Corliss up here straightaway."

Adam turned back to the bed, knowing it wasn't
appropriate for him to remain alone in this room with her, but not wanting to
leave her so soon after she had suffered such a scare. He decided to speak with
Daniel later, to explain the need to keep silent about his presence here. The
servant might think the worst of him for a few days, but when their betrothal
was announced, all doubts would be dispelled.

"Is he gone?" came a small voice.

"Yes, love, he's gone." Adam sat down next to
her and eased her into his arms again, rocking her gently. He sensed that the
last remnants of her nightmare were loosening their grip when she gradually
relaxed, her body slipping back against his chest.

If he had noticed earlier that she was clad only in a
thin nightrail, now that things were calmer he was acutely aware of it. As he
tucked his hand around her narrow waist, he could almost feel the smoothness of
her skin through the light, pastel-colored silk. Her hair was soft where her
head rested against his cheek and she smelled intoxicatingly sweet, a fragrance
she had never worn before. He recognized it as yellow jasmine, a flower native
to the southern colonies. He immediately decided its haunting complexity suited
her far better than simple lavender.

"Thank you for waking me, Adam," she said
after long moments. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed softly.
"I . . . I think I'll be able to go back to sleep soon."

"Let me know when, and I'll leave you," he
answered, lightly kissing her temple, although in truth he was loath to move an
inch from her side. Nor was he inclined to ask her any questions about her
nightmare. That could wait until tomorrow; he didn't want to upset her again.
It was simply too pleasant to hold her close against him, feeling her draw
breath within his embrace, and inhaling her scent, half perfume, half a
sweetness that was uniquely her own.

She shifted slightly, her hand innocently grazing that
sensitive part of him in which a low burning fire had already been kindled. As
his desire flared bright and hot, he stifled a groan. For a young woman who had
been so concerned about preserving her reputation, she certainly seemed
comfortable in the arms of a man who was naked but for his breeches.

Could it be that her normal fears of intimacy had been
eased by the kisses they had shared? he wondered as the minutes flew by and
still she did not ask him to leave. It seemed so. He knew she hadn't fallen
back asleep. Was it possible, then, that she was hoping he would make some
advance toward her?

His desire blazed hotter at the thought, its searing
heat coming dangerously close to overwhelming him. How he longed to claim her,
to bury himself inside her and quench the fire that her very nearness had
ignited! But he forced himself to think rationally, to consider her
sensibilities and propriety.

He doubted she would surrender fully without first
sharing marriage vows. Yet perhaps she might welcome a small taste of the
passion they would know on their wedding night. His own pleasure would have to
wait, but for now it would be enough to arouse the fiery desire he had glimpsed
in her.

Almost enough, Adam amended honestly, the burning
tightness in his lower body increasing as he slowly drew his hands along her
bare arms, his knuckles skimming the full outer curves of her breasts. Steeling
himself to focus only on her pleasure, he gently nuzzled her neck and slid his
palms back down her arms.

A smile curved his mouth when he felt goose bumps
pucker her flesh. Eager to see how responsive she might be to a far more
intimate touch, he quickly brought his splayed hands inward, skimming them
along her flat abdomen and over her ribs to the soft undersides of her breasts.
As she tensed, gasping in surprise, his thumbs each circled a roused nipple
through her silken shift.

"Adam, what . . . what are you doing?"

"Holding you," he teased in a husky whisper,
enjoying the sensual weight of her firm breasts in his hands. He had known they
would fit his palms perfectly. He also knew she might offer some protest, if
only not to appear too eager to enjoy his caresses. A little gentle persuasion
would silence her feigned opposition easily enough and free that wonderfully
wanton side of her nature.

"But you can't!" Susanna objected, his touch
exciting in her the most incredible sensations. If she was still dazed from her
nightmare, Adam's light squeezing of her breasts brought her sharply back to
reality. She silently cursed her foolishness for being lulled by his comforting
presence rather than sending him at once from her room. "We can't! We're
not married—"

"We will be, my love," he interrupted her,
flicking the ticklish shell of her ear with his tongue. "Very soon."

Susanna gasped again as he shifted both their weights,
gently rolling them over. The next thing she knew she was lying flat on her
back staring up at him, his eyes gleaming and his rugged features appearing all
the more handsome in the moonlight. She also realized for the first time that
his powerful shoulders and sleek chest were bare, the warmth of his skin
penetrating through her flimsy nightrail. Believing for a terrible, fleeting
instant that he must be naked, she was relieved when her fingers caught on some
fabric at his waist.

"You trust me, don't you, Camille?" he
queried, tracing the lush curve of her lips with a warm fingertip.

She wanted to cry out a vehement denial, to rail at him
that he had no right to be doing this to her and to get out of her room, but
she knew that to do so would threaten the deception she had so painstakingly
crafted. Her heart was beating so hard that she feared it might drown out her
tremulous answer. "Yes . . . I trust you."

"And you know that I would never do anything to
hurt you or cause you shame."

"Y-yes."

As he stroked the side of her face, his eyes, stained
black in the subtle lighting, held hers captive. "Then let me show you how
it can be between us, my love. Let me give you a hint of the pleasure we will
find in each other's arms—"

"But I'm a virgin, Adam!" she cried, her cheeks
on fire that she must reveal such a personal detail about herself to a man who
had no right to such knowledge.

"And you will remain so until our wedding
night."

"Then what . . . how?"

Adam lowered his head to hers, his mouth hovering only
a hairsbreadth above her own. "Trust me, my love," he whispered,
brushing her parted lips with his tongue until they were slick and wet.
"Kiss me."

As his mouth, tenderly possessive, molded to hers,
Susanna thought of protesting further, of using the ploy of tears again . . .
anything to stop this madness. Then his hand slid beneath her shift to her
breast, and she became aware only of the bewildering sensations sweeping her
body. She didn't know whether she found more pleasure in his deepening kiss,
from his tongue dueling passionately with hers, or from his fingers taunting
her raised nipples. She arched beneath his hand when he flicked the tingling
nub lightly with his fingernails, and she moaned against his lips.

"That's what I want to hear from you, my
love," he murmured, tearing his mouth from hers. "Sounds of your
passion. Cries of delight. Teach me what you like, Camille. Let me know when I
please you."

She shivered when he slipped her nightrail from her
body, baring her skin to the balmy breezes stirring the curtains and swirling
around them, but her flesh soon grew warm and flushed beneath the seductive
weight of his hands. He stroked and savored every inch of her. His palms slid
worshipfully down her slim arms, drawn high above her head, over her taut,
puckered nipples, her tightening belly, the curve of her hips and her sensitive
inner thighs to the delicate arches of her feet, until she could not stop
sighing from pleasure.

"That's it, my beautiful, exquisite love, tell me
what you like," he urged her, kissing the ticklish hollow beneath her arm
before forging a fiery path to her breasts.

A ragged moan broke from her throat when he captured a
nipple between his lips and drew upon it hungrily, but she almost screamed when
he slipped his hand between her legs, his fingers dipping into that moist,
quivering region that had never before felt a man's touch. She jerked in
surprise as a jolt of the most incredible sensation shot from some secret,
mysterious point and radiated through every fiber of her body. Stunned, she
wondered through her passionate haze if anything was wrong with her, and she
cried out almost fearfully, "Adam?"

"Shhh, love, you were meant to feel such
pleasure," he murmured soothingly, lifting his dark head from her breast
to look deeply into her eyes. "Enjoy it, revel in it, but remember, this
is only a hint of the ecstasy we will know together." His hips moved
emphatically against her outer thigh, a swollen hardness pressing there, and he
groaned. "Oh, God, Camille. To think I must wait even another day, another
hour to claim you . . . such agony . . ."

His mouth seized hers, his fingers delving again and
again into the hot softness of her body until she was writhing beneath him.
Each time his fingertips circled and slid over that tingling nether point, she
felt as if she was being thrust ever closer to the edge of some lofty
precipice, until she was panting for breath, her limbs shaking uncontrollably.
He spread her legs wider, applying a little more pressure, and suddenly she was
flung over the side, hurtling through shimmering space . . .

"Oh, Adam!
Adam
."