Chapter Eight #3
While they ate the meal, Lady Sarah was not very talkative.
She sent him shy glances from time to time and her blushes were frequent.
Most men would be charmed by her, for she was lovely, young and obviously na?ve.
But most of Dugald's attention was on Camille.
He knew not why, but simply sitting beside her aroused him.
He recalled vividly how she'd felt on his lap as they were riding the day before, and he wished she could sit there now.
Partway through the meal, Camille placed her hand on his bare knee below his plaid and stroked it, making a circle on the inside of his knee with her silken fingertips. His already simmering lust heated to boiling so quickly, he near choked on his food. He coughed.
Sarah gasped. "Are you well, m'laird?"
He cleared his throat and took a sip of ale to wash down the bite. "Aye."
Thankfully, Camille removed her hand. He could not have tolerated one more instant of the torture.
After a few moments, he covertly sent her a quick glare, but she serenely ate her food.
The vixen. Hell, he was stiff as a pike and there was naught he could do about it.
The castle was so crowded he would not likely get her alone this night.
∞∞∞
Camille was surprised Dugald had introduced her as a lady when they'd first arrived, but she wasn't going to argue the point. She well knew such a title would cause everyone to treat her better, and she believed that was his intention.
She was thankful to be wearing the dry clothing the housekeeper had loaned her, some of Laird MacVay's wife's clothes.
Camille had also taken a quick sponge bath, washing away some of the mud and grime from the trail.
Now, she found herself fantasizing about whether Dugald might slip up to her tiny private chamber where a maid had lit a cozy fire.
She didn't think she would have to share the room with any other women.
She glanced aside at Dugald and immediately his dark green eyes met hers. Heavens, he looked hot and passionate. He was the most exciting man she had ever met. She'd enjoyed touching his knee earlier, though she regretted she'd caused him to almost choke on his food.
Forcing herself to look away, she directed her attention to the strawberry tart a young maid had just placed in front of her.
"Merci." Camille broke off a bit of the flaky crust and popped it into her mouth.
No matter how delicious, the tart could not hold her interest for long.
She had the wicked urge to tease Dugald again.
He had not started eating his tart yet, nor did he have a mouthful of food.
Making certain no one was watching, she slipped her hand beneath the tablecloth and gave his hard-muscled thigh a light squeeze.
A sound burst from his mouth, something between a growl and a cough.
"Is something amiss?" Lady Sarah asked on his other side.
"Nay," he blurted, flicking Camille a dark glower. She knew it wasn't anger which inspired such an expression, but frustration and desire.
Biting her lip, she hid her smile and picked at the hot strawberry tart.
Mistress Graham, the housekeeper, had introduced Camille to Lady Sarah, the laird's daughter, earlier.
The girl had eyed her with a bit of jealousy, which Camille had not understood at the time.
Now she believed the young lady was smitten with Dugald.
Who wouldn't be? He was a delicious specimen of a man, tall with broad shoulders and well-honed muscles.
Thick hair a woman could sink her fingers into.
Camille was glad when the music began. She loved music and dancing.
She was surprised when the laird's son, Ewan, asked her to dance.
She could not refuse or she would be seen as rude.
When she rose from her seat, her gaze connected with Dugald's for a moment and he looked beyond vexed.
She thought she knew why and smiled. He wanted her, and she wanted him. 'Twas as simple as that.
While dancing, she noticed Dugald dancing with Lady Sarah, though keeping her at arms' length. When the song ended, everyone switched partners and she suddenly found herself face to face with Dugald. What good fortune! She smiled up at him.
"Would you give me the honor of this dance, Lady Bouchard?" he asked formally.
"Of course, Laird MacKerrick. I would be flattered."
He drew her closer than he should have, causing their bodies to brush together. He watched her and his lowered lashes could not hide the sensuous hunger burning in his eyes.
Mère de Dieu, she wished he would pick her up and kiss the breath from her. Her body felt overheated and shivery at the same time.
"You will pay dearly for what you did at the table," he murmured quietly, his breath warming her ear.
Tingles trickled down her neck to her breasts, peaking her nipples. "I can hardly wait, my laird."
His dark look was between a glower and burning passion.
"Come to my room later, two floors up," she whispered. "I will leave my slipper just outside the door so you can find me."