Chapter 29 #2
Cameron did not spare Eleanor another glance.
His hand was already coming to rest against Margo’s hip, his fingertips digging into her skin through the frustrating layers of fabric.
It was a claim, public and as daring as he could get in a room full of his friends and allies.
It felt right, even if it was nowhere near enough to satisfy the burning hunger that churned in his gut and between his legs.
“I was wondering if I was going to have to ask you to dance with me myself,” Margo said.
It was obvious that she was trying to make a joke, but she was so breathless that she could not hide her surprise. The same heat surging through him was reflected in her eyes. The memory of her voice in the deepest throes of her pleasure played in his mind, unbidden but not unwelcome.
I am tired of denyin’ what I want, even if it’s only to meself.
Cameron did not say anything for a moment, giving her a few beats to get comfortable with his lead. He let his palm press even more possessively against her. It anchored him, and the way that she didn’t pull away let him know that she wanted this too.
“I was fulfillin’ me social obligations,” he lied smoothly, easily pulling them into the circle of dancers. “An alarming number of people wanted to offer me their congratulations.”
She laughed, a soft little thing that he knew no one else could hear.
Despite being in a room full of people, it felt as if they were the only two people in the entire country.
Margo was the only thing he could see and hear.
When they took a turn, her foot dutifully going where he guided it, he caught a hint of the rosewater she’d dabbed behind her ears.
“Is that so?” she asked, her hand climbing higher on his shoulder.
She seemed to be claiming him in her own right, in a way that only he could feel.
“I was beginning to think that you were going to avoid me all night. The celebration is nearly over.” She squeezed the junction where his neck met his shoulder.
“But if you say that you were truly occupied with social obligations, I suppose I cannot dispute it.”
The statement was probing, delivered with a gentle curiosity that gave her deniability if he were to point it out.
Cameron considered letting it be. He let his body speak for him, the storm in his heart seeming to lessen when she responded in kind.
It was foolish to keep denying this connection.
He could not lie to her, not when he knew she could feel this too.
“I’m surprised to learn that you are a decent dancer,” Margo said when the silence between them threatened to stretch too thin. “You are quite competent.”
“Did ye think that I would be clumsy?” he challenged, nudging her into a complicated box step.
“No, I never imagined that you would be clumsy,” she said with a breathless, joyful lilt. She let herself be danced through the movement, the smile on her face growing into a permanent fixture. “I just did not think that you would be… graceful.”
Cameron chuckled, shaking his head. He did not have an explanation for her. Dancing was nothing more than a battle maneuver in a small scale. Once he learned the basics, improvisation came naturally.
“Ye wanted to ken why I wasnae dancin’ with ye sooner,” he said, cutting to the core of her earlier words, something deep inside of him knowing that they both needed his admission. “I was avoidin’ ye.”
Margo’s step faltered, but he made up for it easily. His grip on her tightened, and he drew her in closer. Their bodies were nearly flush, the several inches between them for the sake of decency feeling like a canyon; one he knew himself capable of crossing.
Ducking his head in close, his mouth nearly brushing against her earlobe, he whispered, “But it’s only because every time I get near ye, I forget every sensible thought in me head.
” He paused when her breath caught, waiting until he heard her draw in a long, ragged lungful of air before continuing.
“And right now, the only thing that I can think of is what I will do to ye when I next have ye beneath me, moaning me name.”
Margo did stumble then, her foot landing atop his. He adjusted easily, lifting her slightly so she could correct her footing without drawing attention to her misstep. As soon as he was certain she would be able to follow along again, he returned her feet fully to the floor.
The song ended before she was able to speak again. His hands tightened for a moment, reluctant to let her go. He nearly insisted on another dance, but just before he opened his mouth, Lachlan came ambling over.
“We’re about to break into that good whisky ye brought with ye from the seaside,” his cousin said, slinging an arm over Cameron’s shoulders and completely breaking the spell.
He already smelled strongly of the scotch they’d been sipping the entire evening.
Lachlan looked at Margo, something genuinely apologetic in his gaze.
“I will be stealin’ yer husband, me Lady. ”
“It is his ceilidh, too,” Margo said, sounding just as reluctant to move away as Cameron was.
“I must thank ye for the dance,” Cameron said, knowing that if he didn’t accept Lachlan’s invitation, he might end up dragging Margo away. Taking hold of her hand, memorizing the feel of her soft skin between his callused fingertips, he said, “Ye were enchantin’.”
“As were you,” Margo whispered back, holding his gaze for a beat longer. “Even more than I imagined you would be.”