Impulse (11 page)

It surprised her even more that his words warmed her heart. “All right. Then I will stay.”

He was restless for the next few hours, falling asleep and often jerking awake. He moaned and twitched in his sleep, and when he was awake, he shifted position and fussed with his covers. Angela kept taking the blanket and coverlet off and putting them back on as he grew hot, then cold, and she bathed his face with the cool rag. It wasn't until she gave him another dose of the tonic, as well as a spoonful of laudanum, that he finally fell into a peaceful sleep.

Angela stretched. Her back ached from standing over the bed or sitting on it beside Cam, tending to him. She yawned, tiredness washing over her. She glanced at the chair across the room and thought about moving it over closer to the bed, so that she could sit in it and watch Cam closely, but at the moment she didn't have the energy for it. She kicked off her slippers and curled her feet up on the bed under her. Her eyes closed, and her head began to nod.

 

It was very warm, and Angela was glad that she had on nothing but her chemise and a petticoat. The cool air floated across her body, caressing her nipples, and they hardened beneath the touch. She smiled, heat blossoming in her abdomen, and snuggled closer to Cam. They were lying outdoors, beside the pond, on a blanket, and she could smell the scent of new grass all around them. Beyond them, the tethered horses nickered contentedly. Beside her, Cam was touching her, his hands sliding over her body. And that was the most beautiful of all.
She loved the way he caressed her, as if her body were the most precious of all things.

He kissed her, and his tongue came into her mouth. She kissed him back, heat enveloping her. He filled her senses, his heat and taste and scent overwhelming her. She wanted this to go on forever; she wanted to feel him inside her. They had never gone this far before, though she had wanted to. He had always held back, saying it would be dishonorable of him to take her, even though sometimes she teased him by rubbing herself against him.

His finger circled her nipple through the chemise, stroking it until her breasts felt heavy and aching. And all the while, he was kissing her, his tongue filling her. She squeezed her legs together, trying to ease the ache there, but she knew that only Cam could give her the release she sought. She let out a low moan.

The noise awakened her. Angela's eyes flew open. She was lying in bed, fully clothed and atop the covers, so hot that sweat dampened her forehead. She was lying snuggled up against something soft and warm. But the heat was from more than that; it came from inside her, as well. Her insides felt like hot wax. Her heart was racing, and her breath came in short gasps. Her blood thrummed through her veins. Her nipples were hard little points, and she was filled with a vast, empty yearning. Still half-asleep, she was filled with a vague sexual hunger from her dream.

Cam's arm was around her; it was his body she was snuggled up against. She realized that she must have fallen asleep sitting up on his bed, and in her sleep, she had stretched out and wound up sleeping against Cam. He had slipped his good arm around her, and his hand lay familiarly cupping her breast. His thumb was
caressing her nipple, just as it had been in her dream. Angela lay motionless, unwilling to end the sensations flowing through her.

She had not known these feelings in years, since Cam last touched her, before they were torn apart. The ache blooming between her legs was both tender and painful. Tears seeped out from beneath her lids. Her body had been locked up for so long, but somehow sleep had penetrated her defenses, had touched her with the passion she and Cam had once experienced.

Cam made a soft noise, and his fingers dug a little into her breast, but it felt good, not painful. His hand slid down onto her stomach and abdomen, seeking the heat between her legs. She drew in a soft breath as he found the V of her legs and his hand settled in. Angela wished she was indeed wearing the thin cotton chemise she had had on in her dream, instead of the dress and petticoats that muffled his touch. She wondered if he was awake, if he knew what he was doing, or if he was in the grip of a fevered sleep.

She did not want to move, and yet somehow she had to. Slowly she sat up and turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, and his face was slack with sleep. He was breathing heavily, and he made a protesting noise at her movement. Angela sat looking down at him for a moment. Her body was throbbing in a distinctly pleasurable way. She wanted more, yet she knew, somehow, that if he was awake and actively touching her, the fragile moment would vanish forever.

Angela laid her hand upon his cheek. He was feverish, though she did not think dangerously so. At her touch, his head turned into her hand, nuzzling her. Without stopping to think, she bent and laid her lips upon his. His lips were velvety, firm and hot. Softly, with feather
lightness, she moved her mouth over his. The touch made her heart speed up. She kissed his lower lip, then the upper. His lips moved in response. She kissed him as he had been kissing her in the dream, snaking her tongue along the seam of his lips so that they opened to her. She pressed her lips into his, gently rocking, her tongue exploring his mouth.

He moaned deep in his throat, and his tongue twined with hers. Desire rocked her. His hand slid up her body, coming to rest on her breast. She wished she could feel it against her naked body; she wanted his hand between her legs, seeking out the hot, eager place there.

She lifted her head. He groaned, and his eyes fluttered open, bright with fever. “Angela?”

Fear swept down through her body, and like a shot, she was off the bed. Her heart was slamming in her chest, and she stood completely still, as she had so many times with Dunstan, hoping against hope that if she said nothing, did nothing, he would go away.

He wet his lips and said her name again, confusion tinging his voice. Angela swallowed and forced herself to speak, “Yes. I am right here. Do you need something?”

“Don't know,” he mumbled, and rubbed his good hand over his face. Then his hand flopped back onto the bed, and his eyes were closed again. He was asleep.

Angela sagged with relief. Her legs were trembling in the aftermath of tension, and she made her way shakily to the chair against the wall and sank down onto it. There was still a faint achiness in her breasts and between her legs to remind her of her momentary flight of passion, but his awakening had startled her out of it, sending the usual chill and sickness through her. She braced her elbows on her knees and leaned forward,
resting her head on her hands. How could she have behaved like that? What insanity had come over her?

She hoped that Cam would have no memory of it when he awoke. If he did, he would think that she wanted to share his bed. He would pursue her; he would kiss and caress her, thinking that she really wanted it, no matter what she said. He would not believe her lack of interest if he remembered the way she had kissed him tonight.

It shocked her that she had done so. She had gone so many years with no feelings of passion, with only revulsion for the sexual act. It almost frightened her to think of how differently she had felt, how sleep had stripped away the coldness and the passivity. It was as if she had become a different person.
No, it was not that so much as that she had slipped back into the girl she was when she knew Cam.

But she knew that was impossible; she could never be that girl again. A dream had taken her back, but there was no returning in reality. She was who she was, and she had better get a grip on what she was doing before she got herself into trouble. Cam Monroe was not a person to trifle with.

Angela drew a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her. She settled as comfortably as she could into the chair and prepared to wait out the night.

The rest of the night passed peacefully. She went to the bed periodically to check on Cam and wash his hot face and chest. The rest of the time she sat in the chair and tried not to think about what had just happened. Cam's fever eased around dawn, and not too long after that Jason Pettigrew came into the room. He looked, or so Angela thought, with suspicion toward her and then at his employer, still asleep in the great bed.

“As you can see, I have not poisoned him yet,” Angela told him flippantly, rising from her chair. “He was feverish during the night, but he seems cooler this morning.”

She identified the medicines that Dr. Hightower had left for Cam and explained the dosages, as well as Cam's reluctance to take the laudanum. Pettigrew nodded and took up his post in the chair by the wall.

Angela retreated to her own room, closing the connecting door between them and quickly undressed down to her chemise and crawled into bed. Within moments, she was asleep.

 

Angela's dreams were troubled. When at last she awoke, she popped straight up in bed, as if she had been pulled violently from her sleep. She blinked, gazing around her dazedly. It took her a moment to remember where she was and why she was asleep even though the sun was shining through the crack between the drapes. There was a tray on the small table beside her bed, from which she deduced that Kate or someone must have brought her a lunch, then left it upon finding her asleep.

A knock sounded at the door, making her jump, and she realized that it must have been this noise that had brought her awake so suddenly. The knock was on the door leading into Cam's room.
Had something happened to him?
She slid hastily out of the high bed and grabbed a dressing robe, wrapping it around her as she hurried to the door. She shot the bolt and opened the door to find Jason Pettigrew standing on the other side.

“Mrs. Monroe,” he said stiffly. There was just the faintest hint of exasperation in his tone. “Mr. Monroe has been asking for you. I am sorry to wake you, but,
frankly, he has been quite adamant. He is still a trifle fevered, you see.”

“It's all right, Mr. Pettigrew.” Angela supposed it was petty of her to savor the little surge of triumph at the thought that Cam had overridden what she was sure was Pettigrew's reluctance to even have her in the sickroom. She was not sure why Pettigrew disliked her. He was loyal to his employer, of course, and no doubt, if he knew anything about Cam's relationship with her, he would believe what Cam believed, that she had married Dunstan instead of Cam for the sake of money. However, she could not understand why that had made him hover over her when she was washing Cam's wound, as if she would somehow harm Cam. He seemed to regard her with even more antipathy than Cam did, as well as with a suspicion that Angela could not understand.

She stepped around Jason and walked into Cam's room, saying lightly, “Well, I understand that you are being a fussy patient.”

Cam smiled at her, looking not at all repentant. “No doubt. I fear that if I have to bear with Jason's gloom much longer, I shall begin to wish that the bullet had hit several inches inward.”

“Cameron! Don't say such a thing!” Angela reached his bed and laid her hand upon his forehead. She looked into his eyes, searching for any trace of a gleam that would tell her that he remembered the incidents of the night before. She could see none, and she relaxed. She turned back toward Pettigrew. “When did you last give him the tonic for his fever?”

“About an hour ago. He started getting worse then. Before that he had been quite rational and calm.”

“Would you two quit talking about me as if I were
not here?” Cam grumbled. “It makes me feel as if I'm seven years old.”

“Stop acting as if you were seven years old, and we shall stop treating you that way.”

Cam winced elaborately. “Here I am, a poor sick man, in need of comfort, and you malign me.”

“You are in entirely too good a mood,” Angela continued to banter with him as she poured water into the washbasin and wet the cloth for his head. “Didn't you know that when you have been shot, you are supposed to just lie there and feel dreadful? Not make jests and order everyone about?”

“Perhaps I am merely glad to be alive.” He gave her a grin that reminded Angela forcefully of his younger self, and her heart squeezed within her chest.

“We all are,” she replied without thinking, then felt awkward for having said it. “Uh…I mean, well, you gave everyone quite a scare yesterday.”

“Especially Jason, apparently,” Cam said cryptically, glancing over at his assistant, who flushed at his words.

“I don't understand.” Angela looked at Cam, puzzled.

“It doesn't matter.” Cam rubbed his hand down his face. “I am too foggy to be making sense right now. We will talk about it later.”

“All right.” Angela knew that it would not do a sick man any good to be discussing anything troublesome right now. “Mr. Pettigrew, if you will remain with Cam for a few minutes longer, I would like to tidy up a little. Then I will spell you.”

She went back into her room and pulled out another dress, one with buttons up the front, so that she could fasten it easily by herself and not have to ring for Kate.
Once she was dressed and had her hair reasonably tidy, she ate a little off the tray on the table, but she found her appetite was not very good. So she left the rest of the food on the plate and returned to Cam's room.

She smiled at Mr. Pettigrew as she entered, saying, “Now you can go eat some lunch. I am sure you must be famished.”

He shook his head. “Miss Harrison was kind enough to bring me a tray a while ago, so I have eaten.”

Pettigrew sat down in a chair across the room, looking as if he were there to stay. Angela cast him an odd look.

“But, surely, you would like to stretch your legs for a bit? Have a chance to relax?”

He shook his head. “I am fine, thank you, ma'am.”

Angela thought his behavior was most peculiar, but she said nothing, merely walked over to the bed. It was Cam who sighed and said, “Oh, for pity's sake, Jason, I will be safe enough with Angela. She is not going to crack me over the head or poison me with my medicine. If nothing else, it would be too obvious.”