The Many Sins of Lord Cameron
Page 89“Certainly.” Ainsley’s smile faded, but the love in her eyes did not. “I am ecstatically happy, and honored, to carry her—or him.”
Cameron read worry in her face, fear that hadn’t quite faded from the death of her first baby. He cupped her face in his hands.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said. “You can be certain of that. You’ll not have to fear.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Damn you, Ainsley, I love you so much I hurt with it. I fell in love with you the night I first caught you in my bedchamber, my little thief. I was so drunk, and you were so lovely, and I wanted you like I’d never wanted a woman before in my life. How the hell did I live so long without you?”
“About as well as I lived without you.” Ainsley touched his face. “Let’s never live without each other again, all right?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say.” Cameron straightened from her. “Bed. Now.”
Her brows rose. “My, aren’t you commanding?”
“I am about this. March.” He slapped his hand to her backside and half shoved, half walked her to the bed, Ainsley laughing all the way.
While he laid her down, he growled those naughty things that she loved to hear. Ainsley kissed him, and Cameron slid into her, completing their joining, completing himself.
He loved her until they were panting, sweating, shouting their joy. Cameron held her hard through it all, and still held her as they wound down to exhaustion.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Cameron snuggled down beside her, pulling the covers over their nakedness, knowing that he could drift to sleep in complete safety and solace. He knew that he’d wake again in the peace she’d taught him, no more blackness, no more grief.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for giving me back my life.”
“There will be much more of that, my Cam.” Ainsley touched his cheek, breathed her cinnamon-scented breath on him. “Years upon years of it.”
He intended there to be.
Cameron started to whisper that tender thought when he jumped, feeling a very determined hand close around his still-hard cock.
“Devil,” he growled.
Ainsley laughed, her mirth ringing to the ceiling as Cameron rolled her into the featherbed and loved her all over again.
Epilogue
ASCOT, JUNE 1883
Hooves pounded on the track, mud flying, jockeys bent over brown and black and gray backs.
Ainsley whooped and flung her fists in the air as Night- Blooming Jasmine pulled ahead in the last furlong and romped home well ahead of the pack.
The well-bred crowd in other boxes looked at them askance, and Ainsley hoped that Lord Pierson was among them. His own fault. The man did not understand horses.
Hart added his voice to the cheer. “Eat that, Pierson.”
Mac laughed at him. “You must not need his vote.”
“Shut it, Mac,” Hart said.
Ian didn’t join in with the cheering, but he pressed his fists into the rail in front of him and watched as Jasmine pranced about, proud of her victory. Beth planted a happy kiss on Ian’s cheek, and Ian smiled down at her, far more interested in Beth than the horses.
Only Cameron had not said a word or done a thing. He simply watched, unsurprised, as the horse he’d lavished attention on all spring performed exactly as he expected.
Daniel jumped down from the rail. “I’ve just won a bundle. That will teach the bookmakers to do odds against on Dad’s horses.”
“They knew about Jasmine’s past,” Ainsley said. “They must not have believed Cameron could turn her around. More fool they.”
Cameron held out his arm to Ainsley. “Time to go down.”
“Before you do,” Hart said, “I have something to say.”
Cameron paused, not really interested, but Mac seemed to catch something in Hart’s tone. “What?” he asked sharply.
The silence was instant, stunned, and heavy. Ian looked at Hart and kept looking at him, straight into Hart’s eyes.
And then everyone started talking at once. “Do you mean Eleanor?” Ainsley asked over the clamor.
Hart broke his gaze from Ian’s and flicked it to Ainsley. “I’ve not said I’ve chosen a possibility.”
“Yes, he has,” Daniel shouted. “He just don’t want to say, in case she turns him down again.”
“Cameron,” Hart said. “Cuff your son.”
“Why?” Cameron shrugged. “Danny’s right. Sort it out yourself, Hart, my horse is waiting. Come on, Daniel. This is your victory too.”
Daniel took Ainsley’s arm on her the other side, and sandwiched between father and son, Ainsley exited the box.
“What do you think, Step-mama?” Daniel asked. “A tanner on Lady Eleanor? For or against? I say she gives him the boot.”
“No, indeed, Danny, my boy,” Ainsley said. “Twenty says she accepts.”
“Done. Dad?”
Cameron shook his head. “I never bet on Mackenzies. Way too risky, and Hart can be underhanded.”