Knight and Stay (23 page)

In the shower a little while later he reached behind his expensive toiletries for the bottle of apple shampoo Sophie had left behind on her last visit. He flipped the lid and inhaled the fresh scent, his eyes screwed shut as the all too familiar smell filled the shower enclosure.
Sophie
. Jesus, he missed her, and he hated himself for not being able to stop the almost physical pain that came with thinking about her. He scrubbed his hair unnecessarily roughly and cut his shower short to crawl straight into bed, even though it was barely six in the evening.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sophie pulled on her mittens as she sat in the back of yet another warm taxi, sickly nervous now that she was on the last leg of her journey. She couldn't quite believe that she had successfully negotiated Tromso's public transport system and then managed to find a taxi to bring her out to the lodge, but she had, and the driver had just let her know that their destination lay just up ahead.
What if he wasn't there?
She swallowed hard and put the thought out of her head. He would be there. He had to be.

Presently the familiar long, low outline of Lucien's home swung into view, welcoming lights aglow at the windows confirming that it was indeed inhabited. Sophie didn't know whether she felt relieved or even more nervous, but she was here at last.

Out of the warm confines of the car it was incredibly cold and incredibly beautiful, a still, crystalline winter wonderland. The skies overhead held no trace of the aurora tonight, there was only inky velvet studded with diamonds. She raised her hand to tap on the door, but it started to open before her hand even made contact with the wood.

Sophie's heart stopped beating, and then thudded again hard at the sight of Lucien's efficient, smiling housekeeper. Her taxi melted away into the darkness as soon as the driver could see that she was safe, leaving her with no other option but to walk straight into the warmth of Lucien's lodge, through the door held unquestioningly open for her.
Well, that was a good start.

"Sophie, come in. Lucien didn't warn me to expect you."

Her English was perfect, as always, lightly and warmly accented. Sophie smiled at the older woman, glad to be remembered and racking her brain to recall her name.

"He doesn't know I'm coming. It's sort of a surprise," she said, pulling off her mittens. Surprise didn't feel like the right word given the circumstances; it made her sound as if she were leaping out of a giant cake.

"Is he here?" The million-dollar question left her lips as she unwound her scarf and shrugged out of her coat. She hoped she didn't betray in her voice how much rested on the answer to that question.

Lucien's housekeeper nodded, and gestured to Sophie to take her boots off too.

"He's sleeping."

The unexpected answer made Sophie frown anxiously.

"Has his father...?" She trailed off, not able to articulate the question.

The housekeeper shook her head and laid a hand on Sophie's forearm.

"Not yet, but I don't think it will be long." Her gentle eyes were full of concern. "I'm very glad you're here Sophie. Lucien needs you."

"You really think so?" Sophie asked quietly, surprised by the older woman's words.

The housekeeper smiled and shook her head, as if there was so much she could say but chose not to. "Go on through. You know the way."

At the bedroom door, Sophie paused. It had only been a couple of days since she'd stood similarly braced outside Lucien's office, and she'd been running on adrenaline ever since. From the highs of anticipation to the crushing low of finding him absent, from the tense journey across Europe to find him, to here and now, breathless and anxious outside a different door. Sophie raised her hand to knock and then faltered. Was Lucien's housekeeper right? Did he need her? Or would her presence just make a difficult situation worse?

Stop it. You're here now. Just knock on the damn door.

Pep talk over, Sophie tapped gently against the pale wood. She listened closely, and when she heard no movement in the room beyond, she turned the handle and pushed it cautiously open.

He was here.
Sophie sagged against the doorframe with relief, gladdened beyond words just to lay eyes on him. Her hand settled over her throat as she drank him in, feasting her hungry eyes on every feature of his face, on the contours of his chest revealed by the pushed down quilt in the warm room. He lay on his back, one arm splayed off the bed, and the soft glow from the bedside lamp bathed his skin amber. Sophie could have stood and looked at him for a lifetime.

He stirred then, his brow furrowing.
What did he dream of?
She moved into the room and closed the door, then stepped around the bed quietly so as not to wake him. The mattress was soft and welcoming as she lay down carefully alongside him, content to watch him sleep for a while even though her fingers itched to touch him.

He stirred again, that concentrated frown back on his face as his breathing turned shallower. Whatever was going on in his head, it didn't look restful.

"Sophie."

He breathed her name even though he had no idea that she was there, and it was enough to make her reach out and lay her hand on his cheek. He seemed to settle; the frown melted away and the rise and fall of his chest gentled. She could have taken that as her cue to remove her hand. She could have done, but she didn't. She left it there, letting her thumb stroke his high, proud cheekbone. Lucien seemed to sense her presence then; Sophie could feel him slowly passing from sleep towards wakefulness, until finally he turned his head a fraction and brushed a kiss against her wrist.

"I don't want to wake up and find you're not really here," he whispered, not yet opening his eyes.

"I'm really here."

His chest expanded and contracted as he breathed her in deep, covering her hand with his own for a second before he turned on his side to face her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gently, incomprehension in his eyes.

"How?"

Sophie laughed gently. "The way normal people do. Planes. Buses. Taxis."

He looked shell-shocked. "Why?"

The smile slipped from her face. "I heard... about your dad. Figured you could probably use a friend."

Lucien studied her face for endless seconds, his eyes more vulnerable than Sophie could ever recall. "I'm not sure we're friends, Sophie Black."

"No?" Sophie had to force the quiet word past the fear that constricted her throat.

He shook his head and sighed heavily, reaching out for her. She moved into the circle of his arms and clung to him. Or did he cling to her? He crushed her against his chest, and Sophie held him right back. It wasn't just a 'hello' hug. It was a 'thank God you're here' hug. Lucien's hand clasped the back of her head to his chest, and for long moments everything around them stopped existing. There was just this man and this woman, melded together by emotion and relief.

His skin was bed warm under her hands and her mouth, and she only loosened her grip on him when he reached down and tugged her sweater over her head. And then her jersey top. He glanced down finally at her white, long-sleeved thermal vest, traces of amusement alongside the rawness in his blue eyes.

"This is like pass the fucking parcel. Tell me this is the last one?"

"Almost," Sophie breathed, knowing that the final layer would please him far more than those that had gone before. He peeled her vest from her body, and a small guttural moan of appreciation rumbled in his throat as he looked at her breasts clad in ivory chantilly lace.

"I like this," he said, tracing his index finger slowly over the scalloped edge of first one cup and then the other. Sophie closed her eyes, and Lucien dipped his head and kissed her eyelids, his other hand on her bra clasp behind her back.

Her pulse jumped up as he flicked it open, up again when he eased the straps down her shoulders and bared her breasts to his waiting eyes. She could feel his erection through the sheet as he dragged her against him again, skin on skin and all the more intimate for it. It wasn't a 'thank God you're here' hug. It was an 'I'm going to fuck you senseless' hug.

"I've missed you so much, princess," he whispered, filling his hands with her hair as he tipped her head back in search of her mouth.

His kiss scorched her. Tender at first, holding back, and then devouring, as if he was starving and wanted to eat her whole. Sophie met him head on, dragging him closer, tasting inside his mouth with her tongue.
Delicious.

He opened her jeans and pushed them down her hips, and Sophie wriggled out of them, along with her lace knickers as Lucien lifted the quilt for her to join him beneath it.
God, yes. Yes please.

They both groaned with pleasure as their naked bodies aligned. He was rock hard as he blanketed her body with his own, and Sophie opened her thighs to accommodate him between them. Lucien rested his forearms either side of her head, her hands in his.

"Don't close your eyes," he said as he crooked his knee and tipped his hips forwards. Sophie watched his face as her body welcomed him in. She saw his pupils dilate with intense carnal pleasure, and she saw his hunger for more as he started to move inside her. She had more to give him. So much more.

"Deeper," she said, snaking her tongue over his parted lips.

Lucien's fingers tightened around hers, and she closed her eyes as he pulled his hips back to give her what she'd asked for.

"Open your eyes," he said, and she opened them wide as he thrust himself into her body, making her gasp. "Like this?" He thrust again, lazy triumph mingling with the lust in his eyes. "Like this, princess?" He moved up a little so that his cock slid over her clitoris with every steady stroke.

"Yes..." Sophie's hips rose to meet his each time, to gather him in. "Yes..."

She trembled, pinned down, never wanting to get up again. He knew she was right on the edge, and he lowered his head and kissed her slowly, his gaze never wavering from hers.

"I want to watch you," he whispered. "Let me see."

He let go of her fingers to cradle her cheek as her body tightened and her breathing shallowed, and Sophie could see the fierce concentration in his eyes as he held back his own orgasm to watch hers.

It was too much. She loved him so much. Tears welled in her eyes as her body gave itself up for him, wave after beautiful, pleasurable wave. He kissed her damp cheeks and rocked her in his arms, her name his mantra as his climax rushed from his body into hers.

Sophie was a long, long way from London, yet right here in this man's arms, she was home.

Chapter Thirty-Six

"What is this again?" Sophie asked as she drew the heavy red casserole dish out of the oven in the lodge's huge kitchen. It was well after ten, and they were both hungry for food now that their appetite for each other had been sated.

"Lapskaus," Lucien said, opening a high cupboard and reaching down two bowls. "It's Norwegian stew. You'll like it."

The simple act of preparing dinner together was calming for both of them. Lucien set out cutlery and glasses on the table as Sophie ladled the stew into bowls, placing them down alongside a basket of flat bread and the bottle of red wine that Lucien had just opened.

Divine, hearty smells rose from her bowl as Sophie took her place at the small table.

A thought struck her as she dipped her spoon into the rich stew. "This isn't reindeer, is it?"

Lucien lifted a sardonic eyebrow. "Don't worry princess. You're not eating Rudolph." He twisted a little salt over his bowl. "We'll do that tomorrow. He's delicious."

Sophie didn't mind the gentle mockery. She felt gladdened to hear him sounding more like his normal self. Instead she closed her eyes to savour the heavenly food. Lucien's housekeeper was fast becoming one of her favourite people; not only was she seriously kind, she was a culinary genius.

An easy atmosphere of mutual appreciation settled over them as they ate. They spoke of nothing of any great relevance, even though there was so much to be said. For those few minutes they were content just to share the quiet space and the soul nourishing food, gazing out over the dark winter landscape outside and catching their breath.

Lucien poured two generous measures of cognac into the crystal glasses on the kitchen work surface, his mind on the woman waiting for him beside the fire in the next room.
Sophie was here.
She'd come to him, even though he'd thrown her love back in her face in London. He knew he'd hurt her very badly, yet still she'd found her way here to stand beside him without hesitation. Up until Sophie's arrival he hadn't allowed himself to stop and acknowledge the magnitude of the situation with his father; he'd become so accustomed to his role as the estranged son that he didn't know how to be anything other. The idea of going to see him at the hospital filled him with unspeakable dread. Would they even recognise each other? In Lucien's memories his father was larger than life, a big man with an equally big personality, a big and oppressive influence in the background of his life, whether Lucien liked it or not.

He picked the glasses up with a sigh and went through to the lounge, relieved beyond words to have Sophie there. She didn't respond to him as he came through the door, and he stilled for a second. Dressed in one of his shirts because her luggage was still at her hotel in the city, she'd curled up on the end of the sofa to watch the fire and nodded off to sleep.

He wasn't surprised. She'd travelled most of the day to get here, she couldn't have had much rest over the last couple of days.
Planes, buses and taxis, she'd said.
The idea of Sophie negotiating all of that on her own to get to him blew his mind. She'd joked back in London that she had trouble reading tube maps; how the hell she'd managed Norwegian bus timetables he had no clue. But then she was Sophie Black, the girl who surprised him. He'd never met anyone quite like her before. On first glance she was quiet and unassuming, but scratch the surface and she was spectacular.