Loving the enemy is one thing.
Trusting the enemy is quite another.
In the late 1600s Black Maggie Verrere was engaged to marry Sir Edric Neville in an effort to unite their two families. Instead she eloped to America with another man, and the famed Spanish dowry vanished along with her. The two familiesthe Verreres and the Nevilleshave hated one another ever since.
Now, 150 years later, another Verrere woman seeks the dowry. Cassandra Verrere has no hope of providing a future for her younger siblings, or for herself, unless she recovers the treasure. Unfortunately her path to its attainment requires the help of a Nevillethe disarming Sir Philip. With an ancient feud marking their lineage, Cassandra cannot imagine trusting him. But the true challenge may be in trusting her heart not to fall for him.
Praise for the novels of
New York Times bestselling author
A smart, fun-filled romp.
Publishers Weekly on Impetuous
Camps newest Matchmaker novel features her usual vivid characterization, touches of subtle humor and plenty of misunderstandings, guilt and passion. You wont want to miss this poignant and charming tale.
RT Book Reviews on The Courtship Dance
DelightfulCamp is firmly at home here, enlivening the romantic quest between her engaging lovers with a set of believable and colorful secondaries.
Publishers Weekly on The Wedding Challenge
A beautifully crafted, poignant love story.
RT Book Reviews on The Wedding Challenge
Lively and energetic secondaries round out the formidable leadsassuring readers a surprise ending well worth waiting for.
Publishers Weekly on The Bridal Quest
A clever mystery adds intrigue to this lively and gently humorous tale, which simmers with well-handled sexual tension.
Library Journal on A Dangerous Man
The talented Camp has deftly mixed romance and intrigue to create another highly enjoyable Regency romance.
Booklist on An Independent Woman
Impetuous
Candace Camp
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Prologue
THE DOOR TO her room opened softly, and a man slipped in. The candle in his hand barely penetrated the darkness, but he could make out the bed, and he glided toward it.
The woman in the bed lay turned away from him, her feminine curves concealed by the covers. He stopped, a little uncertain. He had expected her to be awake, to turn toward him with the eager welcome that she had displayed earlier this evening in the conservatory. He held the candle closer to the bed. Its light glinted off the pale fall of her hair as it tumbled across the covers and pillow. It was that light gold hair which had caught his interest this afternoon, more than the perfect features.
He set down the candle and blew it out, slipped out of his shoes, and crawled across the bed to the woman. She said nothing, and he wondered whether she had actually fallen asleep or was merely feigning it. It seemed peculiar that she would simply have gone to sleep when she had made this assignation with him for midnight. It occurred to him that she was pretending to sleep in order to somehow retain an illusion of her innocence in the whole matteror perhaps she thought that he would find it arousing. He had to admit that there was something rather intriguing about lying beside her warm body, pliant and all defenses down, even that of consciousness.
He nuzzled into the mass of sweet-scented hair, gently looping his arm across her. Desire flickered through him, immediate and piercing. The faint aroma of roses teased at his senses. He found it more arousing than the heavier scent she had worn this afternoon. He lifted her hair and placed his lips tenderly against the nape of her neck.
She let out a little shuddery sigh, and he smiled against her skin. He trailed soft, warm kisses across her neck and up onto her jaw, finding her ear and nibbling at it, tracing the gentle whorls with the tip of his tongue, rubbing the lobe between his lips. His hand slid beneath the covers, shoving them down, revealing her clad in a plain white cotton nightgown. The demure gown surprised him, but he found it intensely, immediately arousing in a way that a more suggestive gown would not have been. He almost chuckled. He would not have thought the chit had such understanding or expertise. Perhaps this would be much better than he had thought. He was glad that he had changed his mind and decided to accept Joannas invitation after all.
His hands roamed her body as his mouth continued to play with her ear. He caressed her breasts and the feminine swell of her hips through the cloth of her nightgown. His fingers played over her thighs, her stomach. His blood thrummed as he kissed his way down from her ear, across the soft skin of her neck, until he was stopped by the cloth of her gown. Impatiently he unbuttoned the first few buttons until it fell open enough that he could pull the gown down onto her arm, exposing a tantalizing expanse of skin down to her shoulder. He gazed at the creamy skin for a moment, feeling himself harden and throb. He trailed a finger, shaking slightly, across the smooth flesh. It was like touching rose petals, and it sent a spear of desire straight down into his loins. He bent his head and kissed the point of her shoulder.
His breath came faster in his throat as he kissed his way back across her collarbone and up her neck. He snuggled up closely behind her, pressing his body against hers all the way up and down, letting his desire pulse against her rounded derriere. His hand slid down her abdomen, pushing her tightly against him, and delved between her legs. She let out a soft moan and moved her legs, opening for him. He caught his breath, stirred by the sound of her passion. He was certain now that she must be awake, though her only acknowledgment had been that sound. There was something infinitely arousing in her silent acquiescence, in the way her breath grew faster and louder, as though her most basic needs were betraying her, breaking through her self-imposed quiet. His fingers moved rhythmically, pressing and releasing, sliding across her nether lips through the cloth, and he was rewarded with another low groan that seemed to rise from deep within her.