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No, I broke hers. “No, I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me, I’m…going out. I don’t want to be here when they return.”

Cameron walked out back to the hired man’s cabin. He would hide out there until Rose was safely off the premises. What a mistake. He hadn’t been there since that fateful day when he had made love to Rose and then sent her away. The blankets were still rumpled. His mother hadn’t cleaned the cabin because she hadn’t been here. No one had.

Cameron sat down on the bed, grabbed the pillow, and hugged it to his body. It still smelled like Rose, that intoxicating blend of strawberries, cream, and woman. He could almost imagine holding her in his arms. He tossed the blankets off the bed and lay down upon it, remembering the warmth of her lovely body snuggled against him in sleep. The musky remnants of their lovemaking drifted to his nose. The aroma had been trapped under the blankets for nearly two weeks.

Why? Why had it come to this? He should have left her alone in the first place.

But would he change any of it? Would it have been better never to have loved her at all? To pine for her from afar, never having known the sweetness of her body joined to his?

No, it never should have happened. He had taken her virginity and given her nothing in return. He had ruined a lovely maiden and tossed her aside, hurting her beyond measure. He was a scoundrel of the highest order.

He would never marry. No one would ever replace Rose in his heart.

He sat cross-legged on the bed and buried his head in his hands.

* * * *

The girls returned from their ride, and Rose sent Kat and Tricia inside while she tended to the horses. She put Begonia in an empty stall next to Mary and headed toward the cottage. The hired man’s cabin stood in the distance. Without thinking, she turned and headed toward it. The door was slightly ajar, and she quietly opened it. Cam sat on the bed, his head in his hands. He hadn’t heard her come in.

“You didn’t have to lie to me, you know.”

Cameron loo

ked up, his eyes sunken and wet. “What?” he asked hoarsely.

“You didn’t have to tell me you loved me,” she said. “I would have gone to bed with you anyway.” The truth of her words stung. She strode forward slowly and regarded his beautiful face, eyes moist and nose running. “What is the matter? Did you hear something from the doctor?” She sat down next to him and tentatively touched his arm.

Nothing.

“Cameron, why don’t you answer me?”

“Leave me,” he said.

“No, if it’s about Kat, I want to know.”

“Kat’s fine.”

“Thank goodness.” Unable to stop herself, she stroked the black silk of his hair. “What is it then?”

“I’m fine.”

“Cameron, you’re not fine. Anyone with a brain can see that.”

“I…I…” He turned and gazed into her eyes. “You would offer me comfort after the way I’ve treated you?”

“You seem to think me some sort of shrew. I don’t know what I did to deserve that. But I would offer anyone comfort who needed me.”

He remained silent. After a few minutes, she rose, went to the basin, and returned with a wet cloth. “This water’s a bit old,” she said, “but I think it will do the trick.” She gently wiped the tears and grime from his face, and then she took his hands in hers and wiped them as well. “What on earth have you been doing today, rolling in the dirt?”

Again he didn’t answer. She got up, rinsed the cloth, came back, and ran it over his face again, pushing his hair behind his ears and wiping his neck. Then she touched the moist cloth to the part of his chest bared by his shirt, slowly caressing him, wiping away the dust and sweat. “There, that’s better.” She set the cloth on the night table. “Oops, I missed a spot.” She grabbed the cloth again and wiped a smudge from his chin. He touched his hand to hers, moving with her as she continued to wipe around his jawline.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” he said.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for treating you…badly.”

“I meant what I said. You didn’t have to lie to me.”


Tags: Helen Hardt Sex and the Season Erotic