Ry separated their bodies to create a gap between him and Meghan. He’d no idea what an abominable snowman was but it didn’t sound good.
Thank you.
Ry narrowed his eyes and watched Camryn complete an elegant sashay before smiling at her partner. Their hands touched and she twirled gracefully, her lilac skirts flaring outward to display a flash of ankle and a deeper purple underskirt. His breath caught. With her black hair piled on top of her head, she was stunning. The lilac gown suited her perfectly, showcasing her slim waist and gorgeous breasts. He didn’t want any of the other woman, wasn’t even interested in looking. Ry wondered if he were sick since this had never happened before. He loved sex, though since meeting Camryn he only craved her. No, not sex. They made love. And now she’d started communicating with him telepathically. Satisfaction at the intimacy chased away astonishment until Camryn rejoined with Talor. He watched their hands make contact and scowled at his brother’s smug countenance. He wanted to rip his woman from Talor’s arms. Pushing aside every shred of inner protest, he concentrated on Meghan.
“Would you like to dance?” Frankly, he’d rather not, but he could act the civilized gentleman if necessary.
The relief in her expressive eyes suggested Talor had requested her to entertain him, perhaps distract him. Talor would have a plan, just as he did. He hated involving the women and dragging them into the middle of their personal battle.
When the band started their next number, Ry and Meghan joined a new set forming on the dance floor. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Camryn with another man and relaxed until he recognized him as another of Talor’s friends. It was obvious Talor knew what Camryn meant to him and intended to capitalize on the weakness.
“Why are you still with Talor?” Ry asked.
Meghan tripped before collecting herself. “You are a murderer.”
“No, I’m not. If you think that, why are you dancing with me?”
“Talor said I must,” she whispered with another glance at Talor.
“Talor is a liar.” Ry completed the prancing steps around Meghan before turning to face her. “You should leave him.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t. I want…I can’t leave Talor.”
Ry wondered if Talor was strong enough to compel her all the time. He caught a glimpse of Camryn.
Camryn, be careful. Your partner is one of my brother’s friends.
Camryn didn’t react, but he caught her surprise. She smiled at her partner as they joined a set of dancers.
Do you think all the names on my card are your brother’s friends?
I’d assume they were. Don’t tell them you are our trainer.
Camryn laughed at something her partner said. Ry’s admiration rose.
They think we are lovers?
She sounded curious rather than upset. Ry smiled at Meghan and minced into the next set pattern of the dance. He caught a flash of Camryn’s thoughts.
Gabriel.
Ry’s smile died and jealousy took grip. Envious of a dead man. He snorted and attempted to concentrate on both the dance and Meghan.
Camryn whirled along the line to face another partner. This man kept his eyes on her face instead of scanning her breasts or attempting to grab her ass like her last one. Reassured, her gaze drifted to Ry. She’d talked to him telepathically. Confusion and a touch of fear gripped her mind.
More
woo-woo
for her to cope with.
She hated that woman’s hands crawling over Ry, the familiarity of her touch. Camryn flashed a smile at her partner and continued to sashay through the steps of the dance. She extended her hand and clasped her partner’s, prancing around him like a high-stepping horse, her attention still on Ry.
The woman—his partner—was shameless. Camryn’s jaw locked into place while she worked to control her seesaw emotions—her possessive feelings for Ry Coppersmith. Weird, she’d argued with him yet still hated him touching another woman. She had to focus on returning home.
The thought of home soothed her—her brother, her nephew, even her sister-in-law and Gabriel. He’d have loved to see her in this balldress and dancing. She’d always joked he’d been born in the wrong era, making Gabriel laugh about his cradle-snatcher status.
Her new partner’s fingers slid across her inner wrist in a stroke of intimacy. All of a sudden, she heard the man’s thoughts, just as she’d communicated with Ry.
Bet she’s hot between the sheets. Talor wouldn’t want her if she wasn’t.
He cast a speculative look at her before thinking,
I wonder if he’d share. He does owe me a favor.
Camryn spun away, following the steps while shock reverberated inside her. Did they think her a whore for sale? Yes, she slept with Ry, but she didn’t intend to share her body with another man. Or two. A favor? Huh! Camryn fumed. Talor Coppersmith was a slimeball sleaze. And his friends weren’t much better.
What is it? What’s wrong?
Camryn’s head jerked up and she almost tripped before recovering the rhythm.
Nothing’s wrong,
she snapped.
Apart from you talking inside my head. It’s disconcerting and rude!
I’m not talking alone,
Ry said dryly.
I can do disconcerting, if you want. Imagine this
,
he said, his thought throbbing with pure seduction.
Imagine we’re by the lake. The sun is shining and it’s so hot the crew is relaxing on the ship. We’re alone.
Alone?
Camryn curtsied to her partner.
Yes, alone. I undress you. Slowly. I take off your tunic first to reveal your silky skin. I kiss the curves of your breasts, your shoulders and neck and lick across your collarbone. I trace my tongue around the outline of the tattoo on your shoulder.
Camryn shuddered, her stomach clenching with desire, her tattoo starting to burn beneath the fabric of her pale lilac dress. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t.
You’re supposed to reconnoiter, to help us win the race. The race is the reason we’re here. Remember?
You don’t like sex? You don’t like me stroking your nubs until you scream your pleasure? You don’t like the way I plunge my cock deep into your core and stroke you inside while my fingers brush across the cat on your shoulder?
I need a drink.
Ry’s soft chuckle echoed inside her head.
You don’t need a drink. You need me. Ditch the man. Tell him you’re tired and send him for refreshments. I’ll meet you on the balcony.
It’s not polite.
I want you, Camryn.
Camryn’s breath exited in a slow hiss. She shouldn’t. It set a bad precedent—jumping when Ry said jump.
After this dance,
stressing her thought with firmness.
He chuckled again, the pleasure and male satisfaction sending a tickle of heat through her veins.
I’ll bring you a drink. We’ll go out to the garden for privacy.
After this dance,
Camryn repeated. The dance passed in a whirr of indecision. This was wrong. She knew it. She was undisciplined according to her sister-in-law.
But despite knowing she should discourage Ry, Camryn found herself in the garden, the cool air a balm to her aroused body.
I’m over by the fishpond, to your left.
Cocky kitty-cat.
His rich laugh filled her mind.
I love your insults, sweetheart. They make me hot.
Camryn rounded a hedge and found him in the secluded shadows. “I need to work on my insults.”
“I intend to keep both your mind and mouth so busy you won’t have time to utter them,” he whispered before he drew her into the gloom and claimed her mouth.
She felt the thick ridge of his cock against her belly, felt the firm muscles bunching beneath her hands. When she ran her hands over his back, he voiced a hoarse curse. Her hand faltered until she realized she’d caressed the tattoos on his back. From experience, she knew how sensitive they became during lovemaking. Camryn shuddered at the thought of him tracing the outline of the cat on her shoulder and moisture pooled between her legs. “Touch me.” Her voice held a note of pleading.
He lifted his head to laugh at her. “I am touching you.”
Camryn swallowed, part of her still horrified at the alien tattoo. “My tattoo.” She wondered if it would disappear when she returned to Earth.
“When I’m inside you,” he promised, his eyes gleaming with sensual promise.
Her heart fluttered, the subtle quiver echoing in her womb.
Ry unfastened the placket of his breeches and bent to lift the hem of her dress. Camryn felt the cool air on her nether region. No panties. The lack of underwear was disconcerting but convenient.
His fingers slid across her moist folds. A purr rumbled deep in his chest. “You want me.” He stroked her flesh, trailing fingers back and forth in a determined assault until pleasure spiraled just out of reach. “Admit it,” he added. “Tell me.”
“I want you.” God help her, but it was true. Ryman Coppersmith—drug of choice.
Ry guided his cock to her entrance and impaled her, lifting her with ease while he plundered her mouth. “Yes.” No mistaking his reply for anything but satisfied.
Their clothes rustled with each move. The faint tinkle of music poured from the ballroom along with soft voices, but Camryn concentrated on Ry, the way he surrounded her with his strength and protection, how he made her soar. He made good on his promise, stroking his fingers across her tattoo. Even with the fabric between her skin and his hands, the sensation overwhelmed her, made her gasp and her pussy clench hungrily. Anyone could discover them at any time, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was Ry. He lifted her and let her sink down on his shaft. A moan fell from her lips at the sweet contact. She shuddered. They’d scarcely started yet the familiar low pressure gathered between her thighs.
“Come for me, Camryn.” He teased her sensitive nub while catching her gaze.
His chatoyant eyes—they glowed full of mystery. Passion. Promise. Camryn ran her hand down his back, felt the buck of his cock in her warm channel, and suddenly her body convulsed with the force of her release. She cried out and Ry sealed her shout with his mouth. He thrust once. Twice. And stilled, panting while his cock jerked deep inside her. For an instant he squeezed her tight before separating their bodies and refastening his breeches. Once Camryn had righted her gown, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, lingering over the task. With each touch he cherished her, making her feel precious. Important.
Masculine voices dragged them apart.
“Go inside,” Ry murmured. “I’ll make sure no one follows you.”
Camryn fled, her heart pounding. Ry made her feel things she didn’t want. She climbed the stairs into the ballroom, determined to find a drink just as soon as she tidied her appearance. Surely one drink wouldn’t hurt?
The interior of the retiring room was luxurious like the ballroom. Candles flickered in wall sconces and several chairs were available for the ladies to rest. An ornate mirror filled most of one wall. Camryn checked her appearance and apart from the slight flush in her cheeks appeared normal. Amazing since her life raced out of control. She tucked an errant curl behind her ear and sank onto a chair. This relationship with Ry didn’t have a future.
It couldn’t.
Two women entered the retirement room. One wore a gold-jeweled mask, covering most of her face. Two rounded holes allowed her to see.
“Do not mind me,” the masked woman said to her companion. “I will keep company with this lady while you are occupied.”
“But your father…you won’t take off your mask, will you?”
Camryn heard the apprehension in the woman’s voice and curiosity jumped to the fore. Why did the woman wear a mask? Was she scarred or injured?
“Of course you may join me.” Camryn scoffed inside at the formal words. The ball and these fancy clothes were going to her head. Soon she’d start acting like the lady of the manor. She thought about Ry and what they’d done in the garden.
Nope, not lady material. To her eternal shame, after Gabriel’s death she had slept with several men in an attempt to ease the pain. It hadn’t worked and she’d found alcohol did a better job of hiding the pain. “I’m Camryn,” she added.
The masked lady smiled, or at least Camryn thought she did because of the movement of her jaw.
“I am Gweneth Swithin. The governor’s daughter,” she added.
“Oh!” Camryn said, shocked. “The dowry bride. Aren’t you worried about the identity of your future husband?” Camryn felt anger on the woman’s behalf, especially since some of the men who had entered the race were horrid. She’d hate an arranged marriage.
“It is my chance to leave this world, to start over,” Gweneth answered with an unconcerned shrug.
Camryn knew she’d never feel so blasé about marriage. “But what if you hate the man who wins the race?”
“You must be a visitor to Ornum,” Gweneth said. “Surely you’ve noticed the shortage of marriageable men here on the planet? Most are convicts who have committed crimes on Ibrox. Serious crimes. Every man who has entered the race has money and some are of high status. My father is doing as he thinks best.”
“But what if you don’t like the winner?”
The woman laughed. “Marriage is too important to leave to karma. We must take control and direct fate. As time passes, my new husband and I will grow to like one another. My father has promised this.”
“Oh,” Camryn said, battling to hide doubt. “That’s nice.” But she didn’t pay attention to the woman’s explanation. Her mind had grabbed hold of a salient fact. The woman expected to marry the winner. Marry him. After seeing the hell-horse races, she knew Gabby had a good chance of winning as long as she ignored the other horses in the field.
The woman’s companion returned and with a polite nod, both departed the retirement rooms, leaving Camryn frozen in her chair. The thought of another woman in Ry’s bed made her stomach roil. She… No!
Camryn forced herself to push aside her personal opinions. She would help Ry and his crew to win the race. They would return her home. Her growing feelings for Ry had no future.
Relief filled Ry when they returned to their campsite after the ball. Although conditions were basic, it felt like home. He sensed the crew was pleased to return as well, out of the sight of Talor, his spies and the pre-race excitement.