Chapter 3
The man turned sharply at the sound of her voice, his eyes catching what little light the street offered. He stepped forward, and Camelia froze as he came beneath the lamppost.
He was tall and undeniably handsome, strikingly so. With raven-dark hair that framed a strong, sharp jaw and dark eyes fixed on her with such intensity that heat rushed to her skin.
This was not at all the kind of man she had expected to encounter in the shadows.
“I… I am for sale,” she repeated after clearing her throat.
I must do this quickly, before I lose my nerve.
His gaze swept over her silhouette in unbroken silence, and a shiver coursed through her beneath the weight of his stare. Fingers trembling, she drew her cloak tighter around herself, as though its folds could shield her from the force of his scrutiny.
“Please, I need… I’ll do whatever you ask.”
The stranger’s brow furrowed as he continued to study her carefully. Camelia’s throat constricted.
I am humiliating myself. Better to run now than endure another heartbeat beneath his scrutiny.
Yet she remained rooted to the spot, uncertain if it was duty to her family that held her fast or the allure of the stranger’s gaze.
“I… I am offering myself.” Her cheeks burned with shame, but she remained composed.
He approached her slowly and deliberately.. Fear gripped her heart, but she ignored it. Even as the lamplight revealed more of his face, he remained unreadable, though she noticed the faint crease between his eyebrows.
Why is he so silent? Does he think I’m jesting?
The handsome stranger met her gaze, and she grew hopeful until he held up a hand.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked before he could reject her.
She hadn’t realized how close he was standing. His lean body towered over her, tall and commanding. Her breath caught as she peered up at him, and there she saw an unmistakable fire in his dark eyes.
Perhaps this is a mistake…
“Are you lost?” His husky voice caressed her skin, sending a thrilling shiver through her core.
What is this sensation?
Camelia immediately stilled when she heard his husky voice. She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach and mistook it for nerves.
Who is he, and why do I feel this way just at the sound of his voice?
She was aware, and grateful, that he couldn’t see much of her in the evening light, yet his piercing gaze seemed to unravel her carefully woven facade, seeing straight through her pretense.
I am here to secure my family’s future, not to lose myself in the allure of a stranger’s mysterious countenance.
Camelia remembered the woman from earlier and attempted to saunter to the stranger as she did, but her unsure movements betrayed her confidence. Her fingers fumbled at the hood of her cloak, catching it just before it slipped, and she summoned a coy smile that danced between nervousness and allure.
“I’m not lost, sir,” she attempted to purr seductively. “I sought you out.”
A rush of heat bloomed across her cheeks, sparked by the boldness of her words.
The stranger’s eyebrow arched, and she held her breath, silently willing him to respond.
What am I doing, daring to play such a dangerous game with a man like him?
He stood unwavering, arms crossed over his muscular chest, and nodded at her. It was a gesture that beckoned her closer.
Camelia’s eyes flitted nervously in fear, yet she inched forward until she stood a mere breath away from him. His warm, musky, and intoxicating scent enveloped her, sending a dizzying rush through her.
“Is that so, little flower?” he asked, lightly amused.
“Little flower?” She cocked her head and felt her curls caress her cheek.
The stranger’s right hand rose, and Camelia froze, her breath catching as uncertainty gripped her. His fingers brushed her chest. It was a featherlight touch, yet it sent a jolt through her.
Her gaze dropped to find her cloak parted, revealing the delicate floral embroidery of her gown. Fear pulsed in her veins, yet she steeled herself. Her purpose overtook her terror.
His dark and unyielding eyes locked onto hers, a possessive glint in them.
“You tremble, yet you stand your ground.” His voice was a low, velvety growl that curled around her like smoke. “Bold, for one who seems so delicate.”
Camelia swallowed, summoning a small smile, though her heart thundered.
“My lord,” she said, softer than she intended, “you gaze upon me as if I were yours to claim, but such liberties come at a price.”
His eyebrow arched, a shadow of amusement playing across his chiseled features, though his eyes remained predatory.
“A price?” he echoed, his commanding presence swallowing the space between them. “Name it, little flower. But be warned—when I claim what I desire, my passion is all but gentle.”
Run, Camelia.
But she felt drawn to him. Her body quivered as she held his stare, emboldened by the heat of his words. She did not have any experience with men, but her words flowed easily in his presence.
“I said I am for sale, not for free.” A thrill surged through her as the shadows seemed to curl around the stranger like a dark omen.
Her lips were inches away from his as she stood tall and regal before him despite the tremor in her core. She was grateful for her father’s decision to delay her debut these past two seasons, a shield that kept her unrecognizable. At least, she prayed it did.
Is he fighting the urge to reach for me?
She caught the subtle movement of his left fist, clenching and unclenching at his side.
“You mentioned that you sought me. And who are you, little flower, to seek me in such a place?” he asked softly, his eyes flicking to the dilapidated brothel beside them.
“I… I work there,” Camelia stammered, gesturing toward the brothel with a trembling hand.
The lie was clumsy, and the man narrowed his eyes at her.
Please believe me.
“Now that you’ve found me,” he said, a hint of teasing in his tone, “what do you have for me?”
“I have an offer,” she barely whispered.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
For family. For Margaret.
“I will be yours,” she began. “For one night. In exchange for twenty thousand pounds.”
The stranger let out a low whistle. His warm, honeyed breath grazed her skin, and Camelia fought to suppress the heat it stirred in her belly.
Have I crossed a boundary?
The stranger leaned forward, studying her closely. She longed to back away, but she was pulled towards him instead.
She released a shaky breath, and he inhaled her deeply, his eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds as if he were savoring her essence.
“You must hold your charms in high esteem, little flower, to demand a sum that could buy an estate. That’s no small price.”
“It’s worth it,” she insisted, her voice breaking slightly. “I believe that I know my worth.”
“Your dress tells a different story,” he said pointedly, staring at her heaving chest.
Camelia ignored his jab. “Will you accept my offer or not?” she asked with a hint of annoyance.
He chuckled as he eyed her with curiosity. “First, tell me your name. I will decide after.”
“My name is Ca—?” She pursed her lips.
Control your tongue, Camelia.
“Do continue,” he said darkly.
“My name is Cassandra,” she lied, her gaze averted to escape his probing stare.
The stranger stood motionless, but she felt his eyes on her. She was afraid to push this brazen charade even further.
“Do you desire me or not?”
“A bold question,” he drawled. “But I require a taste of what you offer before considering such a fortune, little flower.”
Camelia hesitated.
I must move now, lest he suspect too much.
She slowly stepped forward, closing the small distance between them with a boldness that set her blood aflame.
The stranger seemed astonished by her reaction. Taller than most ladies, Camelia reached his neck with ease. Her trembling fingers curled into his collar, and she pulled him closer.
“Let me prove myself,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his.
It’s now or never.
She held her breath and before he could form a reply, her lips claimed his in a fervent, artless kiss, its desperate heat sparking a wildfire within him.
“Oh…” she whimpered against his mouth.
The kiss, though it only lasted a moment, pulsed with a need that sent her heart racing. A low groan rumbled in the stranger’s chest as he suddenly grabbed her waist and held her away from him.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a teasing smile.
Camelia’s thoughts spiraled with unforeseen desire. Her fingers tightened on his collar, and another faint moan spilled past her lips before she could stop it.
“For twenty thousand pounds,” she whispered, her lips trembling.
A primal sound tore from the stranger’s throat. But then, with a reluctant groan, he drew further back, his hands steady yet firm on her waist.
“Not here,” he said.
Camelia looked up at him, embarrassment and hope warring within her. “Where would you—”
Before she could ask, he spun her about and pressed her against the cool, shadowed wall of the alley. A gasp escaped her as his fingers grazed the fabric of her dress under her cloak and ventured lower, teasing the hem of her skirt.
Camelia gasped. She squirmed under his touch, struggling to control her breathing.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he whispered against her ear, “Liar.”
She froze in his arms, but before she could muster a reply, he seized her arm, pulling her out of the alley’s shadows.
What will become of my family if I fail?
Fear gripped her. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?” she demanded as she tugged against him. “Unhand me this instant!”
“You cannot stay here. You’re coming with me,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Coming with you? To where?” she snapped, yanking her arm in vain. “I’m here for business! Release me, or I’ll scream!”
“Not here, not tonight,” he declared flatly.
“Where are you taking me?” she hissed, her eyes blazing like twin suns. “You know nothing about my purpose! I must do this, and you’ve no right to stop me!”
“We’re not doing this,” he growled, and she sensed his patience fraying as he steered her forward.
Will I see my family again? What will happen to them?
“Let me go! I’ll find another to take your place!” she pleaded, twisting in his grip with a surprising ferocity she hadn’t known she possessed. “There are plenty who wouldn’t hesitate!”
“There’ll be no others,” he retorted, his voice dangerously low.
Who is he to command me?
“Please!” she cried. “I cannot leave Whitechapel!”
In one swift motion, the stranger hoisted her over his right shoulder.
Camelia’s outraged squeal pierced the night. Her slight weight was no burden to him as he carried her off to an awaiting carriage. She let out a scream and pounded his back with her dainty fists.
“Put me down!” she shrieked, pounding harder. “Where are you dragging me? I demand you release me at once!”
“You’re coming with me, little flower,” he announced, her struggles barely slowing his pace.
“How dare you!” she spat, her voice muffled against his coat. “If you do not need my services then put me down, this instance!”
The stranger tightened his grip on her thighs, and his hot touch made her squeeze them together.
Curse my body for reacting this way!
“Fighting me is useless,” he countered, his tone resolute as he pressed on. “You’re too fragile.”
“You know nothing about me!” Her fury towards him was sharp and fierce. “You’ve no right to take me where you please! I’m doing what I must to survive!”
He ignored her protests and climbed into the waiting carriage, depositing her onto the plush velvet seats, his hand still firm around her arm to keep her from bolting.
“You are no escort. You don’t belong here. Where are you from?” he demanded, his eyes searching her flushed face.
The question caught her unawares.
Camelia turned away, her chest heaving, and she fought to catch her breath.
“You’ve no business prying into my affairs,” she muttered defiantly despite her exhaustion.
“Where are you from?” he repeated slowly through gritted teeth.
She ignored the growing fear in her gut and the stranger’s glare as she stared out the carriage window and searched for a way to escape.
“Why would you care where I am from? If you will not claim me, what do you intend to do with me?” she inquired.
“I shall simply escort you to your home,” he responded without hesitation.