Page 40 of Wild Highland Rose
With a sigh, he rolled over, memories of the night before crashing into his beleaguered brain. Oh, God. He sat up. What had he done? The bed beside him was empty, but that didn't negate the fact that he was here in Marjory's room. In her bed.
He struggled to remember all that had happened.
There'd been lots of drinking; the pounding in his head was testament to that. There'd been Allen's lewd suggestion and the midnight raid on Marjory's bedroom.
His mind obediently trotted out the memory of her lips pressed against his, the soft curve of her hip pressed against him, the warmth of her body. His body tightened with desire, wantingher now even more than last night. Except that he had no right—not to want her, and certainly not to take her.
At least he'd had the decency to stop. Nothing irreversible had happened. They'd played their roles for Torcall and that was it, except that he hadn't left. He'd stayed with her, slept with her. He sighed, angry at himself, at his own weakness. Somehow, by staying with her and not making love, he'd won from her a hesitant trust. A bond of sorts had been formed.
Which was a great mistake. Cameron absolutely could not let himself have feelings for this woman. He had no idea who he was. In light of the dream, it seemed entirely possible that he already had commitments. Why else would he keep dreaming of the blonde?
He had to go back. Had to find his identity. Reclaim whatever it was he'd lost. This place was not his destiny. Of that he was certain. He didn't belong here and he had no business romancing anyone, especially not Marjory. Her face flashed through his mind, and he sucked in a breath at the memory of the soft smile that had curled the corners of her lips as she snuggled against him, drifting off to sleep.
He shook his head viciously, purging his mind of all thoughts of her. He would play his role, nothing more. He'd help her convince Torcall to go back to Tyndrum. Once Torcall was gone, Cameron would find his way home or die trying.
With that thought, he threw back the covers. He needed the sanctuary of his own room. Striding across the stone floor, he threw open the door. Sunlight filled the room. He squinted, rubbing his temples, feeling the full effects of last night's ale.
What he needed was a little more sleep. He'd face the music after that, when his head had stopped its rendition of jungle drums. He slipped between the curtains and fell into the bed, grateful for the cool darkness.
"I thought ye'd ne'er arrive."
A slim, naked body, rolled on top of him. Warm breath caressed his cheek. Long golden hair brushed against his shoulders. Hard nipples pressed against his chest.
"Thinking of you in there, with her, has only made me want ye more," Aida purred in his ear.
Cameron shifted, rolling away and sitting up, unceremoniously dumping his mistress back onto the bed. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Aida sat up, too, her lips curved in a calculated pout. Cameron had seen that look before, but couldn't remember where. "I told ye, I was waiting fer you. When ye dinna come to my chamber, I decided to come to you here. But ye were in there—with her. So I decided to wait. Give ye a reward after a night with that."
She jerked her head in the direction of the door to Marjory's room and then smiled, a slow sultry smile meant to turn a man's bones to jelly. Arching her back, she stretched like a cat, her breasts thrust out invitingly. She rubbed her hands along the length of her body, a suggestive caress that ended with her hands between her thighs.
Cameron had to admit it was a provocative display, but something in him was more disgusted than enticed. "Look, Aida, I've had a long night and what I need right now is a little sleep." She ran a finger down his chest, the corner of her mouth turning up with anticipation. He groaned in frustration. "Alone, Aida."
Her eyes narrowed. "Are ye telling me ye dinna want me anymore?"
Actually, he was telling her that he had never wanted her, but that wouldn't do. No good letting word get back to Torcall that he had rejected his mistress. Even with his memory loss, that was too far out of character, a sure sign that something was wrong. "No, I'm telling you that I don't want you right now. I'm exhausted. Okay?"
She continued to watch him, but her face relaxed. She stroked his cheek. "I'll be waiting fer ye, and I promise it will be much better than lying with that cold hearted she-witch yer married to." She let her hand drop to his crotch, caressing him through the thin woolen material of his underwear.
He covered her hand with his. "I said, later."
She gave one last stroke. "As ye wish, but ye canna deny that a part of ye wants me to stay."
Smiling seductively, she pushed back the bed curtains and stepped out onto the floor. The sunlight illuminated her body and Cameron had to admit it was magnificent, but his admiration lacked desire. He simply did not want this woman.
The door to Marjory's room opened with a thump.
"Ewen, are you in there? I brought you something to eat." Marjory stood in the archway holding a tray of food. He watched helplessly as she took in the scene. Aida standing by the bed in all her glory. Him, in bed, nearly naked. She swallowed convulsively, color draining from her face. Biting her lip, she backed up a step. "I…I dinna know you were…you had…I mean…I thought…" She stopped, evidently unable to say more.
Aida turned to face Marjory, defiant in her nakedness. "Cat got yer tongue then, dearie. Ye canna be surprised to find that yer husband prefers a more experienced woman. Surely ye canna think he would give up someone like me for the likes o' you?"
The tray crashed to the ground at Marjory's feet. Tears filled her eyes as she bent and began frantically trying to pick up the scattered food.
Cameron felt sick. "Marjory, wait…" He leapt from the bed, surprised at the strength of his feelings, his desire to comfort her, to set things right. He pushed Aida aside and knelt beside Marjory, trying to help her. She pushed his hands away, her eyes meeting his. The pain reflected there tore at him.
"I dinna need your help." He watched as she pushed all emotion from her face, replacing it with a mask of studied calm. Slowly, with dignity, she rose, tray in hand. "And I dinna care what you do or who you do it with." She turned to face Aida, her disdainful gaze tracing a path from golden head to bare feet. "I'll just leave this here." She put the tray on a table. "And maybe the two of you can enjoy it after…after you've enjoyed each other."
The ice queen was back. With a glacial nod at the two of them, she turned and went back into the other room, quietly closing the door behind her.
