The Sheik's Son (11 page)

“You’re indecent,” Sophie gasped.

“And you’re heavenly.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“You seem to always think I’m touching you when I’m not,” Sebastian mused. “Perhaps you want my hands on you.”

Sophie’s breathing was shallow and she hated the corsets for constricting her so. Sebastian watched her breasts fall over the neckline and ached so badly to kiss her.

“No,
monsieur
. I don’t. What I want is for you to maintain your distance and behave properly.”

He pondered her for a moment and then spoke. “Look on the other side of the room.”

“Why?” she asked warily.

“Just do it.”

Sophie moved away from him, keeping an eye on him as she walked along the bed to the far side of the room. When she made her way to the other side of the room, which had been shielded by the four-poster bed’s canopy, she made a breathy sigh of awe.

On the far side of the room was a breathtakingly beautiful portrait with a tree in the far left side of the painting and a harbor dominating the scene, with a beautiful yellow and grey sky.

“It’s exquisite,” she said softly.

“It is,” Sebastian agreed as he joined her.

“Who painted it?”

“Claude Joseph Vernet. It is of the Rochelle Harbor,” he explained.

“It’s lovely.” She continued to stare at it. “Very lovely.”There was a minute of silence between the two of them as they enjoyed the painting.

“I think that you had the wrong impression of me,
mademoiselle
.” Sebastian said as she continued to take in the painting.

“Perhaps,” she admitted, embarrassed.

“And perhaps, like the time at the cricket game, you owe me something,” he told her quietly. His finger drew a line between her shoulder blades where her dress dipped. His touch made her shudder.

She shook her head. “I owe you nothing.”

“You play games and deny me but I know you want me too,” he said.

She turned to face him. “Do you want me as your mistress?” she asked boldly.

“Yes.”

Sophie caught her breath. “Then approach my father and see what he says.”

“You’re not the mistress type. We both know that.”

“Then find someone who is.”

“But I want you,” he whispered into her mouth. His lips were on hers and he was pulling her in to him.

The firelight burned low in the room as Sebastian took her mouth, which tasted of strawberries and custard. She was luscious and alluring and he was behaving badly. So badly.

“Please.” She pulled away from him, moving around the bed.

“You are correct,
mademoiselle
. I have behaved badly. Forgive me. I had too much drink.”

“Do you mean it?” She looked at him hesitatingly.

No
, he thought. “Yes.”

“Then you are forgiven,” she consented. “I can do no less if you ask for forgiveness.”

But though he was sorry for his behavior with her, he was pretending too much. He was pretending that what he felt for her wasn’t as strong as it was and he knew that it was only a matter of time. She was consuming his thoughts and that wasn’t something he was used to. Normally the women he enjoyed were married and they were lovers on the side, or ladies such as Juliette.

But Sophie was something entirely different. Innocent and virginal, he could not claim her without paying a penalty. But he also didn’t know how much longer he could go without doing something about it. She was getting under his skin.

“Let me escort you back downstairs,” he suggested.

***

Later that evening, Dorset, Etienne and Sebastian enjoyed brandy and cigarettes and the Duke mentioned Sophie.

“She’s quite the beauty, is she not?” he said absently to no one in particular.

Etienne nodded and didn’t seem too concerned. He had been practically seduced by his friend’s younger sister all night long. If Leila wasn’t touching his thigh, she was touching his leg with her silken toe. When she had asked him to help turn the pages of her music, she had leaned in to thank him and actually licked his ear. She was a temptress!

He had been rock-solid much of the evening and the Arabian woman seemed to delight in tormenting him. When she had said good evening and left with the other women, she had purposefully thanked him for being a good friend to her brother. It had been a farce. She had reached down to stroke him through his breeches and Etienne almost pushed the little tart up against the wall.

She was a demon in the shape of a beautiful young woman. He knew he must never be alone with her again. No wonder her parents had sent her to France. He could well imagine some Arabian prince fighting to the death over her honor. He was certain Sebastian had no idea how badly his sister was pushing the boundaries with him.

He tried to focus on the conversation. They were still discussing the other beauty that evening, Sophie. Etienne had no opinion about the woman other than the obvious, which was that she was a beautiful woman.

“She is lovely,” Sebastian agreed with the duke.

Etienne moved nearer the fire while Dorset clasped Sebastian around the shoulders. “I want her as my mistress, Fairfax.”

“I don’t think she’ll suit, Dorset. She’s young, innocent. She’s never been married,” Sebastian explained.

“Dammit all—you’re right. But if she married….”

“Well, yes, if she married. But has she given you any indication that she wants to be—”

“Hell, man! You’ve spent more time with her than I have, what with that grandmother lurking around like a human chastity belt. But you know women. Promises of jewels and furs and she’ll be mine for the taking.”

Even though Sebastian had thought and said almost the very same thing to her face, hearing the Duke speak about making Sophie his mistress made him want to throttle him.

“When you’ve spent time with her, what has she done, said?” Dorset asked, taking another brandy for himself.

Sebastian remembered the rain falling down and those lush lips opening underneath his like a precious rosebud at the cricket game. He remembered the dark cloakroom at the theater and wanting to press her into the fur coats and feel her legs wrapped around his waist. And then this evening. This had been the worst yet.

He had wanted to lock the door and push her into the large four-poster bed. He had wanted to strip every single piece of fabric from her body and wait until she moaned and begged for him to give her a release. He would kiss every inch of her and then give her what they both wanted. He would pull down that auburn hair and comb his fingers through it and press into her. He would be the first and last man she ever knew.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sebastian asked.

“Jesus, Fairfax! You have the strangest look on your face!” Dorset laughed and looked to Etienne, who was gazing stupidly into the fire.

“Oh, you were asking about Sophie. She hasn’t done anything that I recall, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Sebastian said.

“Yes, yes,” Dorset murmured. “Christ! I feel like I’m friends with two monks.”

“What?” Etienne asked, joining in the conversation. He still couldn’t get Leila out of his mind. All night had been torture and now she was just gone. A strange stillness had settled inside him.

“Nothing,” Dorset said, shaking his head.

***

Juliette had been surprised when late in the evening Sebastian came into the brothel. He didn’t say much and she knew that was his way. He seemed preoccupied but she didn’t ask. Most of the time the men that entered the brothel doors weren’t interested in talking.

Sometimes there was an elderly gentleman who’d lost his wife and wanted companionship, or the younger man who, after finishing in one minute, wanted to talk, but for the most part it was sex.

For Sebastian, that evening it was sex. And it wasn’t a sweet mating. It was a pounding coupling that left Juliette sore the next morning.

He wasn’t brutal or cruel but he wanted nothing more than to pound into her and feel her walls ripple and constrict around his cock. He moved in and out of her and she moaned into his ear even as he withdrew and she was on all fours. He was pulling at her hips, pounding into her again, and she called his name.

“Bash,” she cried, his hands on her and his hips slapping into hers. She could feel his rigid cock slide in and out of her and the pleasure was intense.

She could hear the grunts and moans in other rooms, but she was consumed by the pleasure she felt. She climaxed briefly when she was on top of him and they continued in different positions for an hour until he climaxed.

She moved to light a candle at one quiet interval but he spoke. “Leave it.”

Other than those two words, he didn’t say anything to her at all. They lay together in the darkness and when she took him in her mouth, he didn’t stop her. She moved down the shaft, taking more and more of his thickness into her throat, almost gagging at his thick length.

His hand threaded into her dark hair and he imagined long auburn hair against the white bedclothes.

When she looked up at him he could see her in the darkness and he imagined hazel eyes in an oval face. The thought of Sophie sent him completely over the edge and he emptied his seed into Juliette’s eager, hot mouth.

***

Leila combed her long dark hair and climbed into the bedclothes, naked and sleek. She had enjoyed every minute of torturing her brother’s good-looking friend Etienne that evening.

She knew he couldn’t say anything to her brother and she, of course, would remain silent. She had dreaded leaving Arabia and everything she knew behind. Arab men were very masculine but not as easy to tease. She was also segregated much of the time with women and only able to freely mingle when there were large parties. She had been very careful and tested her feminine wiles on foreign men like the Turk, lest her father discover her ways.

But Frenchmen were deliciously simple and poor Etienne had been like clay in her hands. She had been able to touch and tease him and she could see through his breeches that he had been rock-hard much of the night.

She stretched her arms above her head and yawned delicately. She would try and behave herself next time they met. But she had so enjoyed herself that she didn’t think she would try that hard.

Chapter 9

Jean Pierre read the letter from Madame Necker and decided that he would show it to his mother. Though he had been invited, it was more than obvious his work would keep him in Paris and he would not be able to attend.

However, the letter was a clear invitation for Sophie to attend a week’s party at the Neckers’ chateau in the country. Madame Necker had invited several esteemed people including the Duke of Dorset, Jean-François Marmontel and Jean-François de La Harpe.

Madame Necker was very taken with Sophie’s grace and intelligence and would protect her as she would her own daughter, she assured Jean Pierre. It went without saying that Eugenie Gauvreau would attend as chaperone and she wrote that she greatly hoped he would consent to allow his daughter to join them.

The Neckers often entertained at their chateau during certain times of the year and she felt Sophie would be a welcome addition to their lively discussions.

Jean Pierre watched his mother read the letter and her lips pursed in grave disapproval.

“I think not, my son,” she concluded.

Jean Pierre stoked the fire with the brass poker and replaced it, returning to his mother. “Why ever not? Surely you don’t disapprove of Madame Necker? She is an intelligent and celebrated salonist.”

“Well that’s as may be, Jean Pierre. But I’m not sure if those are qualities to be so admired in a woman,” Eugenie said imperiously.

This old argument again
. He sighed.

“However, that in itself is not my concern,” she argued. “No, that is not my concern at all.”

He waited silently.

“I have heard about certain parties that go on in these country estates,” she began quietly.

Jean Pierre resisted the urge to roll his eyes, a juvenile gesture. “I have also heard those rumors. Are you suggesting Madame Necker is inviting my daughter to the country so she can meet an illicit lover?”

“Of course not! The very idea!” Eugenie looked shocked.

“Well then?”

“Well what?” she asked.

“If you don’t think there is anything wrong with the invitation—and you are invited as well—why not accept? If you will be there as well, what could occur?”

“Are you suggesting that I spend every night in the same room with my granddaughter?”

Now Jean Pierre did roll his eyes. “Are you suggesting that you must become Sophie’s shadow to ensure her honor remains intact?”

“Jean Pierre! How vulgar.”

“No, Mother. You again and again make assumptions that Sophie is some dim-witted child to be followed about lest some man ravish her in the street, when in fact, Sophie is more educated than you and knows how to act in society perfectly well.”

Eugenie flushed at her son’s bold words. “She may be more educated than me, but she is not a woman of the world,” Eugenie said coldly. “And men can be very predatory.”

Jean Pierre laughed. “Predatory? You make us sound like rabid dogs in heat.”

“Your words, not mine,” she said looking away.

“I leave the choice up to you,
Mère
. But do keep in mind that Sophie will not be the type of woman to remain quietly at home with her embroidery. She needs and requires stimulation.”

“As long as that stimulation is not with some Frenchman who only has designs on her virtue,” Eugenie replied.

“Would you prefer an Englishman?” he said drily.

Eugenie shook her head. “Your flippancy is not appropriate, Jean Pierre.”

Eugenie stood up and looked formidable in her royal blue gown of silk. She nodded. “I will accompany Sophie to this country chateau and write the necessary letter of acceptance to Madame Necker.”

“Thank you,
Mère
.”

Eugenie huffed and left the room, leaving behind a grinning Jean Pierre.

***

Marie followed nearby as Lizette and Sophie walked through the outdoor market. Marie was searching for fresh vegetables and fruits for the household while Sophie was deep in thought.