The Infamous Rogue (2 page)

With his unruly disposition back on kilter, James slowly headed for the ballroom doors again.
William stopped him. “I said—”
James pushed his brother against the wall and pressed his arm firmly under the man’s chin. “I heard you, Will. I won’t cause a scandal…but I’m not finished with Sophia yet.”
He released his kin.
William rubbed his neck, flush from the assault. “At least wipe the blood from your face,” he said hoarsely.
James eyed his brother briefly before he rummaged for the kerchief in his pocket. He swiped at the last drops of blood on his chin, and then shoved the napkin back into his coat.
After he had smoothed his hair and clothes to appear seamless, James stepped back over the threshold and once more searched for Sophia. He discovered her quickly; she was still with the earl. But two more ladies had joined their coterie.
He fisted his palms. He could not walk up to the four and engage in conversation. He needed to be formally introduced to the party by a mutual acquaintance.
James expressed a silent curse at the stupidity of the social custom before he turned to his brother. “Introduce me to the earl, Will.”
William looked at him, dubious. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to greet our host. It’s the proper thing to do, isn’t it?”
The lieutenant remained quiet about the captain’s sudden desire to respect social convention; however, his expression was clear:
Behave according to the rules.
The two men appeared in the entranceway together, looking composed. One would never think they had just engaged in a heated exchange.
William started across the crowded ballroom first, James one step behind him.
Sophia was quick to detect their approach. She narrowed her dark brown eyes on James, burning with warning. He dismissed her fiery stare and advanced with confidence.
“Good evening, my lord,” said William.
The earl returned the felicitation with a respectful “Good evening, Mr. Hawkins.”
“I’d like to introduce my brother, Captain James Hawkins.”
James was careful to keep his expression bland. “Lord Baine.”
James had arrived late to the ball, so he had missed meeting the earl in the receiving line. He hadn’t even glanced at the lofty lord during the course of the evening, but now knowing he was Sophia’s intended groom, James regarded their host with the scrutiny of a pirate assessing his next target.
The fop was young. Thirty, perhaps. Fair, with pale green eyes. He had a polished manner about him, a refined speech. Ghastly taste in wardrobe, though. The man’s brilliant green coat was a freakish blight.
James struggled to keep his composure. Sophia had picked a dandy to be her mate: a posh and sophisticated and noble dandy—everything her former lover was not!
“Might I introduce my sister, Lady Rosamond,” said the earl.
The Hawkins brothers bowed.
The petite woman with honey gold locks curtsied. She eyed James with explicit interest. He might have been disarmed, even disgusted, by the overt gesture, but the heat stemming from Sophia attracted his senses, and distracted him from all other reflections.
The earl gestured toward the older matron. “And this is Lady Lucas.” He then turned toward Sophia. “And her charge…Miss Dawson.”
So that was how Sophia had seeped into the social folds of the aristocracy: she had hired a chaperone. However, James quickly dismissed the revelation from his mind.
The colors in the room blurred together as he watched the way the earl looked at Sophia. It was a besotted look…a lover’s look.
A throbbing pressure mounted in his skull. James glared at Sophia, searched her fine features for the truth: Had she already bedded the earl?
Sophia’s eyes darkened. The rich brown pigment pooled with fury and deepened to a near shade of black. She had guessed his thoughts…and she appeared piqued at the crude suggestion.
The throbbing pinch in his head weakened. The colors in the room brightened with distinction. She had not bedded the earl. James was familiar with that vexing look: the sort she offered whenever he had made a terrible blunder.
Lady Lucas glanced from her ward to the captain. “Captain Hawkins.”
With reluctance, he shifted his gaze to the matriarch. “Yes, my lady?”
“Have you served in the Royal Navy for long?”
James curled his fingers into his palms. “I have never served in the Royal Navy.”
“Then are you not too ambitious in your choice of rank, sir?”
James glanced at Sophia. She was stiff with apprehension. He was hard, too. Hard with indignation, for he had to confront yet another pompous female.
“I captain my own vessel, Lady Lucas.”
“I see,” she said with disdain.
It was like eating sand, the ignominious repartee. But James burned with restless energy to be alone with Sophia. And to get to her, he would engage the condescending company.
“It must be so dangerous at sea,” said the earl’s sister in a polished yet flirty manner. “Have you many adventures to speak of, Captain Hawkins?”
“Very few, I’m afraid.” He swallowed the loathing he felt for her disingenuous regard. “But my ship is well armed, Lady Rosamond. No one gets the better of me.”
Not even you, Sophia.
The quick, dark glance James leveled at Sophia did not go unnoticed by his brother.
“I must congratulate you on a successful evening, Lord Baine,” said William, steering the conversation toward steadier ground.
James swallowed the distaste in his mouth before he formed his next words with tedious resolve. “Yes, the ballroom is a magnificent spectacle.”
“Thank you, Captain,” returned the earl.
“Lord Baine is accustomed to finery.”
The harridan was quick to praise one man and slur the other. But James did not sour under the patronizing implication that he, a barbarian, was unfamiliar with good taste. He was much too engrossed with the tempting proximity of Sophia to submit to the vicious taunt.
James lifted his hand. “Might I have the next dance, Miss Dawson?”
Sophia’s eyes glowed. He wondered she had curbed her tongue thus far. The spirited wench wasn’t one to hold back her opinion—or her knife.
But she had to keep her true nature a secret from the
ton.
She had to maintain an amiable smile. Not too broad, though. Perish the thought she should appear vulgar in public. And she had to keep her brows low. Heaven forbid she should raise them and express a fiery opinion or too intelligent a thought. She had to keep her hands firmly together, too. An air of modesty was of the utmost importance. Imagine the outcry from the other guests if she reached for her blade and carved out his throat—which he suspected she very much desired to do.
He shuddered with disgust. Was this what she wanted from life? Was this why she had forsaken him seven years ago? To enter society and let a band of bloody nobs steal her spirit?
“I’m afraid Miss Dawson is feeling unwell and cannot dance.” Lady Lucas fluttered her fan. “She needed air not a moment ago.”
Air, indeed. She needed to slice his gullet.
“Yes, the room is stuffy,” said Rosamond. “I must follow your example, Miss Dawson, and take a turn in the garden.”
The young woman took a shaky step forward—and wobbled.
Quickly Lord Baine sidestepped Lady Lucas as Sophia and William reached for Lady Rosamond, but it was too late to stop her tumble. She seemed to sink into James’s arms. He swiftly captured her wrist and steadied her before she dropped to the ground.
“Mondie, my dear.” The earl patted her cheek. “Are you all right?”
The young woman pressed her palm over her bust. “I was a bit dizzy, but I’m fine now…Thank you, Captain Hawkins.”
“Yes, my sincere thanks, Captain Hawkins,” said the earl.
James offered a curt nod before he placed his hands behind his back, uncomfortable with all the accolades for such a simple gesture.
The matron slipped her arm around the girl’s spine. “Come and sit, my lady.”
“Thank you, Lady Lucas…Max, we must thank the captain in a proper manner.”
“Yes, of course. Please accept our invitation to a country house party, Captain Hawkins.”
James refrained from snorting. He would sooner hang than mix with such tiresome, frivolous company. “Thank you, however—”
“I insist,” said the earl. “You must allow me to express my gratitude in a fitting way; you must accept my hospitality. Mondie and I are hosting an intimate country house party next week. There will be a few other guests, including Lady Lucas and her charge.”
James was about to decline the invitation again…but one look into Sophia’s murderous eyes told him she didn’t want him to attend the party.
James offered his hand. “I’d be honored to accept the invitation, Lord Baine.”
“Splendid!”
Once more James fixed his eyes on Sophia. “I trust the garden air did you good, Miss Dawson.” He admired the rose pigment in her cheeks. She had blushed so rarely in the past: the blooming color aroused him. “You seem well recovered. Shall we dance?”
He didn’t wait for her refusal, but took her by the elbow and steered her onto the dance floor.
The harridan gasped.
William groaned quietly.
James dismissed their outrage. He slipped his arm around the arc of Sophia’s spine and grasped her hand. Every part of him pulsed with vigor to feel her plump and seductive curves in his arms once more.
“Do you want to hang from the gallows…Black Hawk?”
She had whispered the last part, indicating her intent to out him if he outed her. She had changed. She would never have threatened him in the past with betrayal. Her own father had been a pirate.
But she wasn’t the same Sophia anymore, was she? She wanted to climb the social ladder. She wanted to be a countess. Why? She had enough riches to live like a queen. What did she want with pomp and presentation, the snobbery of the
haute ton
?
“Do you really want me to hang?” He inhaled the tangy scent of her perfume: a sensuous citrus fragrance that reminded him of the island—and their heated affair. “A man tends to confess his sins when facing death. Would you like me to confess my sins, Sophia?” He dropped his lips to caress her ear with his breath. “Would you like me to reveal my transgressions…with you?”
She shuddered. “You belong in hell, Black Hawk.”
In subtle strokes, he rubbed the low knob at her spine. “With you at my side, sweetheart.”
She let out a loud huff of air through her nose. “Why are you coming to the house party?”
“I couldn’t refuse the invitation. It would have appeared rude.”
“And you have to refrain from being rude? To protect your sister’s reputation?”
“That’s right.”
It sounded reasonable; there was no cause for her to doubt him. However, she did. He could tell by the way she narrowed her warm brown eyes on him. That fiery look meant she didn’t trust a single word he offered…and she had good reason to be wary. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do at the house party. But he wasn’t about to let the witch dismiss him from her life again, that much was for sure.
The couple mixed with the other partners and moved to the swell of the music, but the stiff steps seemed so orchestrated, so restrained…unlike the slow and undulating movements of the erotic mento that they had danced on the island.
James searched his memory for the appropriate ballroom dance steps. Sophia twirled alongside him with more grace, yet little concentration.
The moment distracting, they bumped into another couple. After expressing an apology, the two twirled onward.
“We’re making a spectacle of ourselves,” she hissed.
“Shall we withdraw into the garden, then?”
He started to direct their dance steps toward the door.
She squeezed his hand. “If you drag me from the room, I will run you through with my knife.”
He chuckled. She had the blood of her mother: a Portuguese wench with a fiery temper. Sophia possessed the ruthless heart of her pirate father, too.
“Does the earl know he’s courting a viper?”
“I’m not a viper.”
He dropped his gaze to the deep swell of her bountiful breasts. He imagined the short blade tucked between the mounds of flesh, suffocating. He envied the blade. “You sliced my chin.”
Little bumps of desire spread across the tops of her breasts. He quirked a smile in carnal satisfaction, pleased to observe her own growing hunger. She was not so immune to him as she wanted him to believe.
Her voice was low, smoldering, “I only nicked it.”
He inhaled a sharp breath at the sound of her husky voice. A pool of thoughts gathered in his head, sultry words whispered in passion:
Touch me, James…deeper.
He dismissed the erotic dream with a brisk shake. “Missed my gullet, did you?”
She groused, “Unfortunately, yes.”
Her lips whirred. He sensed the vibration, fixed his eyes on the full curve of her luscious mouth. So damn kissable. He had tasted her in the garden tonight. His every nerve pulsed with the memory…and one heated memory stirred others to potent life. Soon his flesh burned with the imprints of her lips. He had to bite back a groan as he remembered the cursed way she had brought him to come with her sinful mouth all those years ago.
He shuddered and missed a step.
She recovered her footing and glowered at him. “Are you foxed?”
“I should be.”
He certainly intended to be before the night was over.
“Who does the earl think you are, Sophia?”
James caressed her warm spine. He desired to mop the moisture that had formed there, to slowly peel away the layers of satin suffocating her.
She quivered. “The earl thinks I’m an heiress, that my father once owned a sugar plantation in the Caribbean.”
He hardened. She had used the plantation house—their home—as the covert means to enter high society. It had never belonged to her father. It had always belonged to them: an intimate hideaway filled with sweet blossoms and tart fruit trees. No slaves or sugarcane crops. Only two souls had dwelled within the quiet walls, free…and joyful.
“So you’re supposed to be a rich and innocent maid from the colony?” he said stiffly, quashing the maudlin sentiment deep within his belly.
“That’s right.”
He snorted. “I must congratulate Lady Lucas. The Paragon of Virtue is worthy of praise. She convinced the besotted earl you’re a charming prize.”
“My money did that,” she gritted, eyes alight. “Lady Lucas is a respectable widow. She accompanies me into society.”
“To guard you against barbarians like myself?”
“Of course.”
The muscles in his back firmed. “And I suppose she instructs you in the ways of etiquette, too? For a price?”
“Naturally.”
He dropped his voice. “You might want to ask her to return your money. I can still see who you are, Sophia. You cannot hide behind layers of satin and fool me.”
She cut him again—with her eyes.