After Innocence (2 page)

His smile was wry. He had met Hilary at a party a few weeks ago almost immediately upon his return to the city. He learned that she had married a much older man just a few years ago and was now newly widowed. Edward preferred widows; they tended to enjoy sinning without feeling guilt or making demands. The attraction between them had been mutual, and they had been carrying on ever since.

Now they were both guests at the Ralstons’ summer home. Hilary was undoubtedly responsible for his invitation, but Edward did not mind. He liked her outside of bed as well as inside it, and the city was hell in the summertime. Suzanne Ralston, their hostess, had kindly given them adjoining rooms, and last night Hilary had preoccupied him from midnight until dawn. Yet apparently Hilary was far less sated than he was.

He wondered when his enthusiasm, once boundless when it came to pretty, available women, had begun to die.

Still, he was a man, and his gaze flitted from her brown bedroom eyes to her pale, white hands as they worked the buttons of her jacket free. Hilary was ravishing and voluptuous; despite his better intentions, knowing her as he did, his loins stirred.

“Darling, this might be indiscreet,” Edward drawled.

Hilary’s only answer was a coy smile as she pulled open her fitted jacket. She wore nothing underneath, not even a corset. Her breasts were large and milk white, the nipples ruby red.

Edward’s mouth twisted and he sighed. Still, he slipped one hand around her waist as his other palm cupped her weight. “I’ll meet you later tonight,” he told her in a low, somewhat husky voice.

She moaned, arching her neck back. His thumb moved over her nipple, methodical and skilled. She moaned. “Edward, I am so mad about you, I simply cannot wait.”

Her skin was silk, and for another moment he fondled her, too much of a hedonist not to enjoy what he was doing, his trousers becoming painfully tight. For a moment he was quite tempted and he debated; then he flashed his dimples. “We’re both old enough to understand anticipation, darling,” he said, kissing one nipple tightly, then pulling her jacket closed. Quickly and efficiently he slipped each black button into its frog.

She gripped his wrists. “Edward—I don’t want to wait. I’m not sure I
can
wait.”

“Of course you can wait,” he murmured, his smile quick. “We both know it will be better if you do.”

Her hand snaked out and she gripped his steel-hard erection. “How can
you
wait?” she whispered.

“Honey, rolling in the sand is
uncomfortable.”

She sighed with frustration, with resignation. “I’m afraid you’ll go back to southern Africa and I’ll lose you.”

He laughed, prying her hand free—with more than a little reluctance. “Not a chance in hell,” he said, meaning it. Edward put his arm around her shoulders to pull her forward for a quick, good-natured kiss. Instead a flash of movement caught his attention and he started.

His gaze swiftly sifted through the scrub-covered dunes just above and beyond Hilary. His eyes widened. Crouched in the dunes above them was a voyeur.

He swallowed his surprise, quickly looking away. But the sight of a pair of wide, avid eyes in a pretty oval face remained in his mind. The voyeur was a young lady with a blue-ribboned straw hat, apparently fascinated with them.

Hilary now gripped his wrists, he still had one arm around her, and his erection was suddenly the size of a cannon.

Edward was swept with a rush of excitement. He pulled Hilary close, wondering how much the voyeur had already seen and if she would go away now and kissed her. It struck him that he was truly depraved. For he was far more excited by the thought of some young lady watching him making love than he was by the prospect of the actual act itself. Fornicating in a bed of sand no longer daunted him.

Acutely aware of being watched, he kissed Hilary. He kissed her deep and openmouthed, stroking her tongue with his, pressing her up against his rock-hard cock, until she was moaning loudly and clinging to him, her knees so weak, he had to hold her up. When he broke away he saw that the intruder was frozen and mesmerized. She had not moved from her crouched position behind the scrubby bush, but her hat had blown off and tawny golden hair blew around her face. Even from the distance separating them, he could feel
her
excitement, too. She hadn’t realized that he had seen her.

His hand flicked down and quickly he worked the buttons of his trousers open, his breathing coming harsh and fast. His mind was disapproving even as his manhood sprang free. He heard a gasp and knew damn well that it had not come from Hilary, whose eyes were closed.

“C’mon, sweet,” he whispered, nipping her neck even as his conscience sternly berated him for his appalling behavior. But he couldn’t stop seeing the voyeur with his mind’s eye, couldn’t stop seeing what she must be witnessing. He closed Hilary’s hand around him. He found her mouth again. He rained kisses down her throat to her collarbone and lower, working the frogs free as he did so,
finally taking one large red nipple deep into his mouth. Hilary collapsed, but Edward was prepared and he caught her, slowly sliding her down to the sand.

A moment later he dropped down to his knees, lifting Hilary’s skirts and sliding deeply into her in one smooth, practiced thrust. As he moved inside her, fighting for self-control that should have been second nature after the previous night’s excess, he was aware of the blood boiling inside his veins, expanding there. He felt as if there were two women lying beneath him. Suddenly he wanted to know who the tawny-haired stranger was. And then he could take it no more, and even as he was undone, he glanced up and glimpsed a wide-eyed face framed by golden hair. When he looked up again, sometime later, the voyeur was gone.

Edward closed his eyes. What had become of him? Suddenly he was ashamed, and worse, he was frightened. It occurred to him that his black reputation was not as exaggerated as he liked to think.

Sofie tripped many times in her haste to get back to the house. There was a croquet game being played on the back lawn, but she did not want to be seen. She must not be seen. Not now, not like this, not after what
she
had seen. Her face was hot and flushed, she could not breathe normally, and everyone, especially Suzanne, would instantly comprehend that something was wrong and demand to know just what.

Sofie avoided the back lawn even though it meant a much longer walk to the house. Instead she hugged the dunes until she came to the tennis court, which was, thankfully, empty. She could no longer stand the pain in her right ankle, which had grown worse with every step. With a small cry, she collapsed in the sand just behind the court, covering her face with her hands.

How she could have done such a thing? When she realized that she had stumbled across two lovers—one of them her lifelong neighbor, dear God—she should have turned and fled. But she hadn’t. She had lost all control of her body and her mind. She had stayed. She had stayed until the very end.

Sofie trembled wildly, reaching for her leg.
What was it like, to be kissed like that? What was it like, to be in the arms of such a man!

Sofie shut off her wayward thoughts, gripping her ankle. That she had stayed to watch was horrible enough, but to be thinking in such terms was even worse. She had never indulged in such speculation before—now was not the time to start. She would never know what it was like, and that was that.

Sofie held her ankle, moaning, as tears filled her eyes, but whether from the anguish afflicting her lower leg or from something far more wrenching, she did not wish to know.

Sofie blinked back her tears resolutely. They hadn’t seen her, so her terrible secret was safe. At least, Hilary hadn’t seen her. For one brief instant she had thought the man had glimpsed her, at the end, but she knew that she must have imagined it in her distress, otherwise he would have cried out in shock instead of passion and stopped what he was doing.

Sofie began to massage her aching ankle. She must not think about what he had been doing, or how he had looked while doing it. In truth, that stranger had been a glorious sight. Now Sofie understood why women were forbidden to attend classes using nude male models at the Academy.

She grimaced and slowly got to her feet. Pain shot through her ankle right up her thigh to her hip, finally distracting her. She bit her lip, refusing to cry out. Suzanne would say it was her own fault for going down to the beach unaided in the first place.

But sometimes Sofie grew so tired of being confined, of not being able to do what everyone else took for granted. And when she worked, she could not bear company, outside that of a model, if she was using one, or an instructor. And Sofie had spent the past two and a half months in the city, a fact that had made this day at the shore even more inviting, enough so that she had relinquished all of her customary caution and common sense. So rarely did she find the opportunity to work
en plein air,
and so rarely at the beach. Foolishly she had thought she might
make such a journey without mishap—how wrong she had been.

Sofie shook the sand from the ruffled cuffs of her white shirtwaist. At least she was breathing evenly now, and her hands no longer trembled quite so much. She wondered who the stranger on the beach was. His first name was Edward, which meant nothing to her. Sofie closed her eyes. “You fool,” she whispered aloud. A man like that would never look twice at a woman both lame and eccentric like herself.

“Mrs. Ralston?”

Suzanne’s pleasant smile was automatic and she turned, poised before wide, open French doors. Behind her was a brick patio, below that the sweeping lawns, where some of her guests played croquet. The mid-sized salon she had paused in now was shady and cool. Sofie’s mother watched the slightly chubby young man approach, trying to recall his name.

She did remember that he was a poor distant cousin of Annette Marten’s, recently graduated from Harvard law school and about to open a private practice in New York. Annette was abroad, so she had asked Suzanne if she would invite her cousin to one of her weekend house parties, in order to introduce him to her society guests. Bachelors were always welcome, even if impoverished and especially if blue-blooded. “Hullo, Mr. Marten. Are you enjoying yourself?”

His smile was engaging, making Suzanne realize that if he lost some weight, he would be attractive. “Very much, Mrs. Ralston. I could never thank you enough for inviting me. And your home is stunning.” He was wide-eyed.

Suzanne winced inwardly—he was definitely
gauche.
“My home is hardly as grand as those of my neighbors, Henry.” She had finally recalled his name. “But thank you for your kindness.” Her veiled warning to be less enthusiastic and more sophisticated was the least she could do for Annette.

“Mrs. Ralston, I do believe I saw your daughter going to the beach.” He flushed.

Suzanne was not surprised that he would be interested in Lisa, who, although only seventeen, already had many admirers, all lined up to court her next year in earnest. Her dark beauty was compounded by her large trust. “Lisa was at the beach? I thought she was playing tennis this afternoon.” How to tell this young man that he was reaching above himself? He was either dim-witted or ambitious, Suzanne had yet to decide.

But then Henry startled her. “No, Mrs. Ralston, it was your daughter Sofie I saw, not your stepdaughter.”

Suzanne started.

“I mean,” he fumbled, “I thought it was Sofie. After all, we have yet to be introduced. She has blondish hair and she is of medium height and stature.” He was anxious. “I was hoping for a proper introduction.”

Suzanne still stared, knowing she had been set up by her friend Annette. While Henry Marten undoubtedly needed introductions for his new law practice, he had come here to sniff after her daughter. Not only was Sofie of a marriageable age, having turned twenty in May, it was well known that her father’s estate, left in trust for her, was adequate. Indeed, after his death, the exact size of Jake O’Neil’s estate had shocked everyone, not least of all Suzanne.

She still could not figure out how a common Irish laborer-turned-builder had managed to amass assets of close to a million dollars in the short six years they were together.

“Mrs. Ralston?”

Suzanne recovered, trying not to tremble, but whether she was angry because she could not think of Jake without becoming furious, especially in regard to his estate, or because this upstart had come to court her daughter, she did not know. Suzanne plastered a smile on her face. “You must be mistaken. Sofie would not go to the beach.”

Henry stared. “B—But I am certain it was her.”

“Was she limping?”

Henry started. “I beg your pardon?”

“Surely you know that she has a dreadful limp.”

“I was told she has a slightly uneven gait, the result of an unfortunate childhood accident.”

Suzanne knew why Annette had been so charitable when discussing Sofie with her cousin, when she had never been charitable towards her and her limp before. Suzanne managed a smile. “Her limp
is
the result of a terrible childhood accident. When she was nine years old she fell down a flight of stairs. Her ankle was broken and never healed correctly; it is quite twisted. Annette did not tell you that my daughter is a cripple?”

Henry had become increasingly ashen as Suzanne spoke. “No.”

Suzanne said, her smile more genuine now, “Of course, I am pleased to introduce you to her. Although she is twenty, she has never had a suitor.”

“I … I see.”

“Come—let us find her, shall we?” Suzanne touched his arm lightly.

By the time Sofie arrived at the kitchen entrance of the house, she was not just exhausted from the painful aching of her ankle, she was distraught. She had left her sketchbook at the beach.

Sofie’s work was the most important facet of her life, her
raison d’être,
and she had never carelessly left her notebook behind before. That she had done so now was just another indication of how agitated she was by having seen the two lovers together.

She paused inside the narrow hall, thankful for the coolness inside. One of the servants passed her and paused to ask her if she was all right. And to tell her that Suzanne was looking for her.