Love Not a Rebel (14 page)

“What makes you think that I have ever cared about their opinions?” she countered. His hands touched hers, and suddenly they were swirling to the music.

“Perhaps you don’t. But you do care about your pride.”

“Do I?”

“Immeasurably.”

“Enough so that I should not be dancing with a known rabble-rouser?”

“Rabble-rouser? Ah, milady, I’ve not nearly the eloquence necessary to sway the populace!”

“They talk of you from here to the nether regions, Lord Cameron. How can you say that?”

“You haven’t heard the real speech masters, milady.
They rouse the heart, and that is where change lies, madame. Not in arms, and not even in bloodshed. Change lies within the very heart and soul of the people.”

“So you do seek war.”

“No one seeks war.”

“You are infamous.”

“Perhaps, but as I said, I haven’t the eloquence to move worlds, milady.”

She shivered suddenly, not knowing why. He was scarcely a humble man, yet his words caused her to feel chills.

Someone walking over her grave.…

Or perhaps a warning. As if she would live to see the day when she would depend desperately upon his eloquence and his ability to sway the masses.

Never. He was the traitor.

“You are a liar, a knave, and a scoundrel.”

He laughed, lowering his head near hers, and she realized that all the room was watching them. “Am I all that, milady? Pity, for I felt that you fit so very well with me. And of course, I’m even daring to believe that you might realize it one day—once your heart recovers from its bruising.”

“I shall survive, but I shall never discover that I fit well with you, milord.” She smiled sweetly, and they swirled with an ever greater vigor about the floor. His eyes never left hers, and with each step she felt more fully the heat of the summer’s night, the sizzle of fire, as if lightning storms raged outside. His confidence in himself was outrageous, yet even thinking of his kiss, of his touch upon her, caused her breath to catch, her heart to thunder, and she realized there was one thing about him she could not resist—he was exciting. He infuriated her, and if she cared for nothing else, she did long to show him that she would never be beaten.

“Ah … careful, smile sweetly! Lady Geneva has her eyes upon us.”

“Perhaps she is jealous. Didn’t you recently share a dance with her?”

“Recently, yes. But I’ve never proposed marriage to her.”

“I see. But perhaps you have made other proposals to Lady Geneva?”

“The green eyes of jealousy, love?”

“I’m not your love, and my eyes are green by birth, milord.”

“Lady Geneva makes her own proposals,” he told her softly, and she almost wrenched from his hold, for she knew then that they had been lovers, and she was furious that she should be so bothered by the thought.

“I’m quite exhausted. May we cease this mockery?”

“Alas, no! Chin up, eyes bright, ’tis be damned with the world, remember?”

“ ‘Tis be damned with you, sir, and if you’ll excuse me—”

“Ah, but I won’t.”

And he did not. He held her close, and she was captured with the dance. Swirling and spinning, they passed by the other dancers, her hair and her gown flying out about her, making her a vision of beauty and fire in the night, on the arms of the tall, dark man. He twirled her from the dance floor out onto the porch, and then he had her laughing, for he did not quit then, but deftly brought her leaping down the steps and onto the lawn. Once there, he continued to swirl her beneath the moonlight. She cast back her head, smiling, for he was right about one thing. She longed to throw all caution to the wind, to show the gossips that she would do as she pleased, that she was not spurned and she knew no pain. He saw her smile, and some knowing glint came to his eyes.

“A temptress and a hell-raiser, milady? Shall we show them that life is to be lived to the fullest and that passion is its own master?”

“You are a hell-raiser. I am no temptress.”

“Ah! I beg to disagree!”

“Do you, sir? Amazing, but I do not see you begging at all.”

He smiled. “A matter of speech, milady.”

“Humility is surely your greatest virtue.”

“However you would have it, Lady Sterling, however you would have it.”

And then suddenly they were dancing no more. They stood beneath the moonlight. His mouth was hard and unsmiling. His eyes were as piercing as a silver blade as they stared down into hers.

“There are whispers upon the wind, Amanda. Harsh whispers. Should you need me, know that I will be there.”

“I will not need you!” she promised. But perhaps that was not so true, for even though the night was warm she was already shivering, and despite the entire debacle of the evening, she longed to cast herself into his arms and feel their warmth and security about her. And yet, she thought, for all the lightness of his words, this man would be no gentle master, but one determined upon his own cause. A woman who loved him was bound to be mastered by that iron will and determination.

No! she thought. I shall never lose my heart or my soul to one such as he! The pain that she felt this night was one thing. She realized that being entrapped by the fierce passion of this man could cause an anguish she could not begin now to fathom. The strange sensations touched her like mist, making her feel uneasy and hot. The strange tingling seized her body once again, dangerously touching places that it should not.

“You—you cannot love me, you don’t even know me!” she cried.

“I know a great deal about you,” he told her, and he smiled again. “And don’t forget—I am in lust with you.”

“You wish to best me! That is all. I have not fallen amorously into your arms, as others do too easily. You like to win, before you step upon your conquests. Well, you shall not win against me, sir.”

“Perhaps not. I’ll consider it a challenge well met.” He was silent for a moment, then he indicated someone over his shoulder. “It’s an interesting evening. Your lost love is consoling himself, I see.”

“What?” Amanda swung around, stunned to see that Robert had come to the porch.

With Geneva. And they were close together in an intimate
embrace. She had cast her arms about his neck. Her head was back and her laughter was throaty. And then she was kissing him.

Amanda gave not a thought to the night, the world, or propriety. Blindly she cast her arms about the man before her and came up high on her toes to press her length against him. Instinctively she arched against him, curling her fingers into his hair and then pressing her lips against his. Tentatively she pressed her tongue against his teeth.

And then the world seemed to explode. His mouth gave way, and he was not in her arms, but she was in his. She was barely upon her feet, swirling in the moonlight again, and his tongue raked her mouth as if it invaded the very soul of her and reached with his searing liquid fire to touch her heart. He laid his hand upon her breast, and something moved in her to that touch, something that pulsed with curiosity.

With desire.

“Oh …” She gasped against him, when his mouth lifted from hers at last.

He held her still, swept off her feet, in his arms. She stared up at him in the darkness and saw his slow rake’s smile just touch the corner of his lips as he spoke seriously. “Did that suffice for what you wished, milady? I do believe you’ve struck fairly in return. The poor dear fellow is on the porch. I’m afraid he’s just about ready to trip over his tongue. Shall I release you and ease his agony? Or do you wish to heap more torture upon him? I am ready to oblige you in any manner you choose.”

“Oh! Oh, you bastard!” She gasped. “Set me down! This instant.”

He started to do so. Instantly. She nearly fell flat and managed to save herself only by clinging to his neck.

“Lord Cameron—”

“Yes, love. What is it now? I never seem to be able to please you.”

“That’s because I absolutely despise you.”

“Ah, then I shall look forward to the kisses you will give when you’ve discovered that you love me.”

“Kisses! I shall spit upon your carcass when they’ve hanged you!”

“Shh! Careful, he’s coming close. With Geneva upon his heels. Ah, and there is Lady Harding! Amazing how many of your father’s guests have discovered that they need a bit of fresh air. Slowly now, slide down against me.” He carefully set her down. She was against him still, yet it was a very proper position, with his arm just about her as he escorted her in the moonlight. She stared at him furiously, but she didn’t fight him. She didn’t want to face her father with any more whispers of scandal raging about her.

“You will be made to pay one day,” she promised him pleasantly.

“To pay? Why, milady, I have desired to do nothing the whole night long except to ease you from any difficulty you encountered. You do have a vengeful streak within your delicate soul. Perhaps, when we are married, I shall have to beat it from you.”

She started to jerk from him and she saw the laughter in his eyes. “Perhaps I shall marry you, just before they tighten your noose. I understand that your property is very fine.”

“You must visit it. Come to Cameron Hall any time, milady. Or if you’re in Williamsburg, you must be my guest, whether I am in attendance or not. I shall leave word with Mathilda that you are welcome any time. Ah … here comes your father. He is looking for us, I think.”

He raised a hand. Nigel Sterling stood upon the porch, his hand stuck into his frock coat. He saw Eric Cameron’s wave and started down the steps.

Amanda did not like the speculative look within her father’s eyes. She did not like his glance upon her, colder than usual.

“There you are, my dear, Eric.”

“The night was captivating. Not nearly so captivating as your daughter, yet the combination of loveliness was one that I could not resist. Forgive me.”

“You are forgiven for being young and enamored, Lord Cameron—if not for other things,” Nigel said. He smiled cordially, but when he gazed at Amanda, she still felt the
coldness. “Our guests are beginning to leave, Mandy. Perhaps you will be so kind as to see them on their way?”

“Of course, Father. Excuse me, Lord Cameron.”

He reached for her hand, kissed it. She waited until his eyes rose to hers and she mouthed sweetly, “Good-bye.”

“I’m not leaving—yet,” he returned, arching a brow rakishly.

She pursed her lips, turned about, and fled for the house. Her father remained talking a moment longer, then he followed her, standing by the door while Amanda took a position at the landing of the stairway, by the bannister.

The Hastings and the Hardings were leaving, and Amanda called Danielle to fetch their hats and accessories. She was thanked for a wonderful time, and she kept her sweet smile in place, wondering if the ladies were pitying her—or if they were eager to rush home to discuss her scandalous behavior. It didn’t matter. She kept her chin up and her laughter light. No one would ever know just how devastated she had been.

Mrs. Newmeyer left next, thanking her and Lord Sterling for the sumptuous buffet. Smiling graciously, Amanda realized she hadn’t even glanced at the buffet table.

Then Robert was before her, his eyes pained as they stared into hers—as if he was the one who had been betrayed. He managed to draw her aside as her father was caught in a discussion nearer the door.

“My God, how could you!” Robert whispered heatedly.

“How could I?”

“I saw you in his arms. It was indecent.”

“Indecent! Robert, he asked me to marry him. You asked me—no! You sought to force me into something that was indecent!”

“He’ll never marry you,” Robert said harshly.

“Oh?”

“It’s a lie. It’s a ploy. He’s disgustingly wealthy, and you are perhaps an heiress, but nowhere near as wealthy as he. He couldn’t possibly be serious. You’re not—”

“I’m not as disgustingly wealthy? Robert, take your
hands off me. Contrary to your belief, not every man longs to awaken with wealth alone on the pillow beside him. Now leave me be.”

Robert stiffened and turned sullen. Although the pain of betrayal and shattered dreams was still with her, she was startled by the discoveries she was making. She did not like this side of him.

“You won’t marry him. He’s a bloody patriot.”

“Patriot? I believe the word might well mean many things. And I do intend to marry him.”

A slight cough interrupted them. Amanda swung around to see Lord Cameron. His eyes were alight with amusement and mockery. “Good night, my love,” he said, purposely turning her away from Robert. “I shall return very soon—to discuss the wedding plans, of course.”

She longed to kick him but she didn’t dare. Robert was still before her. She forced herself to smile. “Good night. My love,” she added.

He bowed deeply. At the door he paused, speaking with her father.

In a fury, Robert swung about and left too.

There were more guests bidding her good night. She longed to escape to her room, but she held her ground and maintained her smile.

Damien was the last to leave for his home, an hour north of his uncle’s estate. She kissed him and agreed to ride to Williamsburg with him soon. Then Damien said good night to her father.

“Yes. Good night, young man.”

They shook hands, and Amanda thought that Damien had been right—her father did not like him. She clenched her hands behind her back, wishing that he would not be so obvious.

The door closed. Danielle stood quietly before Lord Sterling, lowering her eyes. “Is there anything else, sir?”

Her voice still held a hint of a French accent, and Amanda thought that even that annoyed her father. He looked at Danielle distastefully, even though she was a wonderful servant. She managed the household staff and
slaves, and did so very well, and still Lord Sterling never had a good word for her.

Amanda thought that Danielle stayed because of her. She wasn’t sure. Danielle’s husband and brother had died in the cargo hold of the ship that had brought them to Virginia from Port Royal, Nova Scotia. Her tiny daughter had died in that same hold.

“No. You are dismissed.”

Danielle turned to leave. Lord Sterling quickly shifted his gaze from his servant to his daughter, and the cold distaste remained in his eyes.