Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (8 page)

He
was going to envelop her. And she was going to let him.

A sudden burst of anger exploded in Sophia's chest. Raising her hands, she braced her palms against the solid warmth of his chest. His heart was pounding— hammering against his ribs just as hard and rapidly as her own. Feeling the effect she had on him was more arousing than any kiss could ever have been.

It took all of her strength to push him away. Breathing rapidly, her body hot and eager beneath her gown and wrapper, Sophia stared at him and willed herself not to topple him to the floor and show him just what she wanted to do to him.

That heavy-lidded gaze of his did little to strengthen her resolve, but somehow she managed to keep her distance. He ran his tongue along the full length of his lower lip, and without saying a word, his eyes told Sophia exactly what he was doing.

He was tasting whatever traces of herself her lips had left behind. Molten desire pooled low in her abdomen, spreading its heat to her thighs and that part of her that didn't care if her head liked Julian or not—
it
liked him just fine.

"I was a fool once, Lord Wolfram," she whispered, and for the first time the significance of his title hit her. He was a wolf, but she had no intention of setting herself up as a lamb. "But I have no intention of ever being that foolish again."

He didn't reply. He just watched her with a gaze she couldn't read. Somehow, Sophia managed to tear her own gaze away. And as she turned to leave she couldn't help but feel that while she might not be a lamb, she was still considered prey.

J
ulian finally returned to his room after a long, uncomfortable and sleepless night in Sophia's favorite chair. Even if he hadn't spent the entire night in the library hoping Sophia would return, he wouldn't have been any more comfortable in that cramped, cold bed.

In fact, he mused as he knotted his wrinkled cravat around his neck, he probably would have been even more uncomfortable. As it was he had spent much of the night thinking about Sophia's body and how it might feel beneath his, above his, beside his.

What was it about Sophia that made her have such an effect on him? He thought all traces of foolish sentiment for her had been wiped away years ago. Obviously, they hadn't. Last night was proof of that. He had intentionally revealed his attraction— and his disapproval of it— to her. He had wanted to make her feel as low as he himself did. It had worked, but not in the way he had hoped. The realization that she wanted him as well only made his own wanting worse.

And then when she tried to walk away— when he should have let her but couldn't— he asked if she and Aberley were lovers. The shock and outrage on her face had not been faked, he was certain of that. But she hadn't answered him— not with a definite yes or no.

Then he had kissed her. If she truly were the woman he believed her to be she would have kissed him back and invited him to do more. She had returned the kiss, but she had also put a stop to it.

Her rejection had stung. It wasn't as though he was a rake of the first order, but when he decided to kiss a woman, it eventually led to sex. Only with Sophia had it ever
not
reached that conclusion.

After he finished dressing, Julian crept downstairs as quietly as the creaky boards would allow. Mrs. Ellis was already up and starting her day's work when he entered the little hall. She fetched his greatcoat and hat for him, and told him which path to take to the great house so he could check on his own carriage.

"Your sister certainly brightens this little cottage, my lord," Mrs. Ellis gushed, handing him his hat. "We're so glad Lady Wickford introduced her to Lady Aberley."

Julian forced a smile. So, Lady W was responsible for this debacle, was she?

Stomping out into the gray morning, Julian resolved to ask his old friend just how this introduction had come about.

The path to the great house was but a short walk through the woods. Clear and smooth, the little lane obviously got a lot of use. Did Aberley skulk along it late at night, bound for Sophia's bedroom? Or did Sophia brazenly walk this route in the middle of the day to meet her lover?

Before he could give that unpleasant image another thought, he was greeted by the head groom as he entered the stables.

"John's gone into the village to fetch your new wheel now, my lord," the man told him. "We should have your carriage fixed by mid-morning."

"Excellent." He was quite happy to hear it. This slight disappointment he felt was only because he couldn't get away from Sophia soon enough.

The ride to Lady Wickford's was a pleasant one. The road was soft from yesterday's rain, but not so soft that travel would be impossible. It had had all night to dry, plus, the sun was already creeping up over the horizon. A few hours of sunshine would dry things up considerably. He and Letitia would be in London in time for dinner.

By the time he was shown into Lady Wickford's breakfast room, Julian was certain this bit of trouble between himself and Letitia could be easily mended. Once they were in London his sister would be caught up in her usual social whirl, Sophia Morelle would be forgotten and Julian could set his mind to seeing Letitia happily married.

"Wolfram, my dear boy! What brings you here at this ungodly hour?"

Phillippa Markham-Pryce, Countess Wickford, sat at a small table, sipping a cup of tea. Well into her sixth decade, she was of a robust build, round and buxom. Her pale blue eyes sparkled with good humor and a joy for life that was rare in anyone over the age of thirty. She had a knowledge of the world that was sometimes shocking— especially when she spoke of things that no lady should know.

"You know why I am here," he admonished her with mock severity as he bent to kiss her soft, pale cheek.

Lady Wickford had been a dear friend of his grandmother on his mother's side and a regular fixture in his life as long as Julian could remember.

Dropping into the chair closest to hers, Julian plucked a piece of bacon off a platter and took a bite as he stretched his legs out before him. "Yesterday I discovered that my sister is at the home of Lady Aberley. Today I discovered 'twas you who introduced the two."

Lady Wickford's round face showed neither concern nor contrition. "I thought they would like each other," she replied, dabbing her lips with her napkin. "I was right."

Straightening, Julian leaned his elbow on the table and rubbed his hand over his face. "Sophia Morelle is deceitful and untrustworthy, and she is a poor influence for a young woman."

Lady Wickford arched a thin brow. "Letitia is hardly a young woman anymore, Julian." She toyed with the rim of her tea cup, the rings on her hand sparkling in the light. "Besides, your opinion of Sophia is colored by one unfortunate incident."

Julian choked on a disbelieving bark of laughter. "I have seen for myself just what effect her influence has had on my sister. Letitia refuses to come to London without her!"

The old woman's face lit up as she poured him a cup of coffee. "London! Oh how marvelous, Sophia is due for a trip."

Julian blinked. Was Lady W losing her senses? "There is no way I would allow that woman to be a guest in my home."

"Why ever not?" Lady Wickford inquired, lifting her cup to her lips. "What harm could possibly befall you for taking Sophia to town?"

Julian couldn't believe they were even having this conversation! "What harm? Good lord, have you forgotten the scandal?"

Lady Wickford waved a large hand in the air. "Oh, pooh. No one will remember that foolish incident. Sophia would be there as Letitia's guest and companion, not your bit of muslin. Or is there still an attraction between the two of you?"

The shrewdness of her gaze had Julian flushing to the roots of his hair. "Of course not!"

The countess leaned forward, as though she were about to impart some great secret wisdom.

"You keep your enemies close, dear boy. What better way to determine Sophia's designs on Letitia— if indeed she has any— than to keep her under close scrutiny? And just think of how agreeable your sister will be if she can take her friend along? And who knows? You might just make an ally out of Sophia. Perhaps you can use that 'influence' you claim she has over Letitia to your advantage."

Good Lord, why hadn't he thought of any of this? Because he'd been too busy thinking what the consequences of taking Sophia along would be rather than the possible benefits. If she was truly Letitia's friend, she would want what was best for her, and if she was still the mercenary girl he remembered she would urge her friend to marry well. A few well-dropped hints and she could help him nudge Letitia to the altar.

And maybe a little more time together might cure him of this damnable attraction he felt for her. Reconcile the present with the past, prove once and for all that he was lucky to have escaped her clutches.

"Perhaps you are right," he allowed. "Perhaps I have been looking at this the wrong way."

Lady Wickford smiled patiently and Julian half expected her to pat him on the head and congratulate him on finally figuring that out.

Letitia was still in bed when he returned to the cottage. So was Sophia, Mrs. Ellis informed him. Why, Julian wasn't certain.

He bounded up the stairs, oblivious to the noise his boots and the squeaking boards made. He didn't care if he woke Sophia. In fact he hoped he did, then his head wouldn't be filled with images of her lying peacefully amongst a tangle of blankets, bare limbs peeking out.

He burst into his sister's room without even knocking. Still foggy and grumpy with sleep, she pushed herself into a sitting position against a mountain of pillows.

Her room, Julian noted, was much warmer than his own.

"What do you want?" Letitia demanded.

"Get up, brat," he ordered cheerfully, tossing her wrapper at her. "We are leaving for London later this morning."

Scowling, Letitia dropped back against the cushions as her robe fell across her lap. "I am not going."

"Oh, well, that does put a knot in things," he replied with mock austerity as he opened the wardrobe door and began emptying it of its contents. "I am not certain what Lady Aberley's servants will think when she and I leave for London and you remain behind."

"What? Oh, Julian!"

Letitia sprang from the bed and ran for him, her arms outstretched, nightgown billowing around her.

He just managed to drop the mound of gowns in his arms onto a chair before she hit him. She hugged him fiercely.

"Thank you!" she cried, feathering his face with kisses. "Oh, I love you, I love you!"

Laughing, Julian returned the embrace. Any misgivings he might have had about taking Sophia to London with them evaporated in the face of his sister's happiness. Surely he could survive a few weeks under the same roof as Sophia if it meant having his sister back. He would rarely, if ever, be alone with her and they would be so busy socializing they would scarcely see each other.

What could possibly happen?

"He changed his mind!"

Startled by the door of her room flying open, Sophia almost spilled hot coffee all over the front of her nightgown. As it was, the scalding brew splashed against her fingers as she held the cup and saucer over the carpet rather than her bed.

Hissing in pain, she set the coffee on her bedside table and wiped her smarting fingers on a serviette.

"Who?" she demanded as Letitia swung the door shut behind her. Sophia wasn't much of a morning person, and this morning she felt even less sociable than usual.

Of course her sour mood had nothing to do with the fact that she'd spent most of the night lying awake thinking about Julian Rexley and feeling hot and frustrated. Oh, no.

"Julian!" Letitia cried, oblivious to Sophia's ill humor. "He said you could come to London with us!"

Sophia's heart literally stopped. "He said what?"

Letitia practically danced over to the bed. "Is it not wonderful? Of course I had to agree to be civil to the gentlemen on his husband list, but that's of no consequence. They won't steal my heart away from my Mr. Wesley. But whatever is the matter? I thought you would be happy."

Sophia stared at her. "Happy? What in the world would make you think I would ever be happy about spending weeks in the same house as your brother?" She couldn't go to London, not with Julian. It would only be a matter of time before people remembered the scandal. What if rumors started? If she brought scandal upon the family name, Charles would move in for the kill.

Letitia's face fell. "But Sophia, you have to! How else am I to fight Julian if you are not with me?"

Sophia had to laugh at that. "My dear, your brother would stand a better chance at convincing the sun not to rise. You will be fine."

The young woman's lower lip was starting to tremble. "You have to come! I shall be dreadfully lonely without you. You are the only true friend I have!"

For once Sophia knew that her friend wasn't being overly dramatic. She honestly believed what she said, and Sophia couldn't help but be touched. And what if she was right about Julian? What if he pressured Letitia into marriage just as Sophia's father had pressured her? She would never forgive herself if that happened and she hadn't done anything to try to prevent it.

Letitia was relentless. "If you come to London I will have someone on my side when Mr. Wesley decides to approach my brother, and you will be able to go to teas and parties and balls, and Lord Aberley will not be able to stop you!"

The idea of escaping Charles and his ever-increasing attentions was appealing— very appealing. When he had shown up for dinner the night before, he had made it very clear that he expected her to soon give in to him. And it had been so long since she'd attended a ball…

"I haven't the wardrobe for going to town," she protested, her pride winning out over her cowardice.