She’d been so eager to prove herself worthy that she’d abdicated all power. Including over what they did in bed.
He told her that he wanted her. That was a significant admission from someone as reluctant to surrender the advantage as Cam.
He’d never love her. She needed to accept that finally and forever. Once, she had. Nineteen-year-old Penelope had been wise beyond her years. Twenty-eight-year-old Penelope was a sentimental fool.
As she read Cam’s stirring desire, she realized that in this if in nothing else, they were equals. He’d told her she was brave. She’d need to be brave to gain what she set out to achieve.
Their nights would become a kingdom where she reigned supreme.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As Cam rose to shrug off his coat, he caught the excitement in Pen’s face. And something else that he didn’t understand.
These glimpses of a stranger in her eyes always disoriented him. It was like seeing a ghost standing behind an old friend. Slightly eerie. Fascinating. Irresistibly tempting.
But then, everything about Pen was irresistibly tempting.
This raging hunger was unsettling. He was grimly reminded of the straits his parents and uncle had found themselves in when private feelings overflowed into the public arena.
He tugged his shirt over his head and as he emerged from the folds of white linen, Pen leveled an assessing stare upon him. The way her gaze fed upon his body made his gut knot with anticipation. And more unease. She was definitely up to something.
One slender hand curled in a damned suggestive way around the carved bedpost. Blatantly her gaze dropped to the front of his trousers. This time when she licked her lips, it wasn’t nervousness, but salacious appreciation. Arousal thundered through him, making him deaf to warnings.
“Take off your trousers, Cam.” Her tone was sultry, setting his bones vibrating with desire.
Startled, he paused, shirt dangling from one hand. “What did you say?”
She shrugged, still staring at his crotch. “You told me to be myself.”
“Yes,” he said warily. “In society.”
“Everywhere.” She licked her lips again. Each time she did that, his blood heated another ten degrees.
“Come here and I’ll help you with your nightdress.”
She smiled as if recognizing his offer for the weak foray that it was. “First I want to see you naked.”
She pointed one elegant finger at his stiff cock. Cam, as master of his household, didn’t approve of Pen seizing control like this. His dick, however, thought it was a brilliant idea.
“I didn’t mean that you can order me around,” he protested, even as he unbuttoned the front fall.
That mysterious smile still curved her lips. Seducing Odysseus, Calypso must have worn such a smile. Then Cam realized that this was no sorceress. His bride was named for Odysseus’s faithful and loving wife. If mythical Penelope bore any resemblance to this Penelope, no wonder the wanderer had been desperate to return.
“You complained that I was too amenable. It’s too late to change your mind.”
“Perhaps I miscalculated.”
“Recalculate naked.”
Surprised, excited, delighted, he released a huff of laughter. This was the woman he’d found so endlessly fascinating in Italy. Although in Italy, she’d never have told him to take his clothes off.
Perhaps his marriage progressed better than he’d thought.
“Is there a penalty for noncompliance?”
She shrugged, although the glitter in her black eyes belied nonchalance. “If you don’t play the game, you don’t win the prize.”
“You’ve convinced me.” Hurriedly he tugged off his trousers.