Two Shades of Seduction (11 page)

“What else.”

“I don’t understand.” Sophie stared at him in bewilderment.

“Can you live with the social consequences of marrying the Devil of Devlyn Keep?”

The bleak look on his face made her want to ease the cynicism she saw in the depths of his green eyes. Eleanor and her father had more to answer for than simply stealing Quentin’s fortune. Her family had destroyed Quentin’s reputation as well. She’d seen the invitations on his desk yesterday. His return to the keep made him a curiosity, and he knew it. It didn’t matter. She knew the truth.

“The only consequence I foresee is that the Devil of Devlyn Keep might have to answer to my brother, when he discovers we’re married.”

“Are you referring to that young pup who assaulted me at the pond yesterday?” A glimmer of amusement brightened his eyes.

“He’s not that much younger than you,” she said with exasperation.

“I’m more than capable of handling your brother.” Quentin took a step toward her and tilted her chin upward to run his thumb across her bottom lip. “There’s also the consequence of marrying a man who is a dissolute, unreformed rogue.”

There was a dark note in his voice that was part seduction and part warning. Alarmed at the way her body responded to his voice, Sophie quickly put several feet between them. She understood precisely what he was saying between the lines. He was warning her not to fall in love with him. It was an unnecessary warning.

She’d already acknowledged that danger, and she intended to see to it that she did not lose her heart to this man. She would enjoy the pleasure of his touch for as long as they remained compatible. When they tired of one another, they would lead separate lives. Besides, she only need remember the age difference between them in order to keep from giving her heart away.

“If you’re concerned for my heart, please don’t be,” Sophie said with a shake of her head. “Our bargain involves revenge for you and a husband for me. No entanglements.”

“Then we understand each other.” There was a disturbing gleam in his eyes, but it vanished before she could decipher the emotion. “Come, you need to return home before someone questions where you’ve been.”

He cupped his hands to provide a step for her and helped her into the saddle. As she adjusted her seat, Quentin offered her the reins. His hand came to rest on her knee, and the warmth of him sank through the material of her dress to heat her skin.

“I’ve business to attend to at midday tomorrow. Are you able to meet me at the wood cutter’s cottage at say four o’clock?”

The heat of his touch had already begun to spread its way throughout her body. Her heart began to race, and she was certain her cheeks were suddenly flushed with color. Disturbed by the sensations sweeping through her, Sophie nodded her head.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’ll be there at four.”

“Shall I expect you to be late again?”

He grinned up at her, and she wondered if he was aware of the effect he was having on her. She shook her head then quickly reached behind her to retrieve two ledgers from her saddlebag.

“I almost forgot,” she said as the rough green cloth of the books rubbed against her fingers. “I thought you should see a small part of what you’ll receive when you give your name away.”

As he accepted her offering, a strange expression crossed his face. Biting her lip, Sophie studied him in silence. She didn’t understand what had prompted her to bring him the ledgers. The information she’d just handed him might easily be enough for him to destroy her father without even having to fulfill his part of their bargain. Quentin looked at the ledgers for a moment before returning his gaze to her.

“You’re far too trusting, Sophie.” His words were almost a snarl. “What makes you think I won’t simply walk away from our bargain now that I have what I want?”

“If I can’t trust you, who can I trust?”

The moment the words passed her lips, Sophie realized it was the truth. This man, almost a complete stranger, was the only person she could trust to save her from her hellish existence. Even Spencer, as much as she loved him, might easily betray her simply out of fear for her well-being.

“Trust?” Bitterness ran hard and fast beneath his amused laughter. “Never trust anyone, Sophie. Least of all the devil you’ve agreed to marry.”

“I’ve little choice, my lord,” she said quietly. “For if you do not honor your part of our bargain, then there’s little hope for me at all.”

“
Goddamnit
,” he snapped. “Do not think to redeem me, Sophie.”

“One cannot redeem a devil, my lord. One can only dare to outsmart him.”

Astonishment crossed his face before he laughed out loud. Quentin caught her hand in his. The kid gloves she wore prevented his lips from connecting with her skin, but it didn’t stop her from remembering what his mouth felt like on her skin.

“Until tomorrow then,” he said with a wicked smile as he looked up at her. Although he didn’t say thank you, she read it in his demeanor. It was as if she’d given him a rare gift by trusting him.

“Until tomorrow.”

With a smile, she wheeled Augustus away from him then spurred the stallion into a canter. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know he was watching her. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her back. Today she’d experienced a small taste of what it would be like to share the bed of the Devil of Devlyn Keep. It excited her more than she’d expected. But when he was done with her, what then?

Sophie ignored the small voice in the back of her head that urged her to break her bargain with Quentin. As much as she didn’t like to admit it, she could easily lose her heart to him. The age difference between them wouldn’t protect her heart. It would only emphasize the humiliation that would accompany such an affection.

Dismissing the notion, she urged Augustus into a gallop in an effort to escape the demons taunting her in her head. She would be the mistress of Devlyn Keep, and when she and Quentin began their separate lives, she would have the freedom to do as she wanted. Despite his attempts to convince her of his scandalous nature, she was convinced he was an honorable man. Even if all she did were simply remain at the keep and run the household, she would be happy. She would no longer have to hide her father’s illicit transactions or endure the cruel taunts he and Eleanor inflicted on her. For the first time in her life, she would be happy. The thought made her smile. In less than two days, her life would change forever.

S
ophie breathed a sigh of relief as her father strode out of the study. For most of the afternoon, she’d been trying to explain the cargo manifests from the Cleopatra. Despite her best efforts, the baron had been unwilling to accept the fact that one of his ships had taken a loss. He’d been furious. He’d even accused her of manipulating the accounts to hide monies from him.

The accusation had been laughable, but Sophie had held her tongue and not responded to the charges or reminded her father of his own duplicity. The baron’s outrage had served as a reminder for her to be even more careful until tomorrow when she married Quentin. If her father were to discover her secret, he would beat her senseless and any hope of freedom would be lost. She dragged in a deep breath and slowly released it.

It was likely her father’s fury would be even more violent when the earl exacted his revenge. She was grateful she wouldn’t be here to witness his rage or suffer the consequences of it. She flinched at the thought. Giving Quentin the ledgers yesterday had been a foolish risk, but she had to believe her trust in him was not misplaced.

He would honor their bargain and tomorrow she would become the Countess of Devlyn. There was an honorable man beneath Quentin’s devil-may-care attitude, despite his attempt to convince her otherwise. But there
was
one thing Quentin had convinced of her. The man was a scoundrel.

Sophie’s gaze shifted to the clock, and she muttered a soft oath. She’d been dawdling and she’d be late again meeting Quentin. Carefully clearing her desk, she hurried upstairs to change. In less than a quarter of an hour, she was walking across the stable yard toward the stable. She glanced up at the ominous sky. Should she risk riding out into a storm?

For a long moment, she hesitated. What if she were wrong? What if he’d taken the ledgers and decided not to honor their bargain. The idea made her chest tighten. No, she had to know if she’d been right about him. With one last glance at the sky, she entered the stable and ordered the groomsman to saddle Augustus. The man protested the command, but quickly gave way in the face of Sophie’s determination. Moments later, she rode out of the yard and across the grassy slopes at a fast gallop.

Less than a half hour later, Sophie saw the edge of the forest ahead of her. Her certainty that she’d arrive at the woodcutter’s dwelling safe and dry was quickly washed away as the heavens opened up. By the time she reached the woe-begotten hut, she was soaked. Tumbling out of the saddle, she walked Augustus into the lean-to. The empty, makeshift stable made her heart sink. She’d been wrong. Quentin hadn’t come. He’d gotten what he wanted and left her to face her father’s wrath.

Her heart stopped for a brief moment in terror. What was she going to do? Once, the financial upheaval started, her treachery and betrayal would be clearly evident to her father. Biting down on her lip, Sophie stood in the cold, damp stall filled with uncertainty. A shiver went through her at the way her clothes were chilling her. She didn’t want to contemplate the future at the moment. She simply wanted to be warm again.

Dashing through the steady rain, she hurried into the hut. Although the interior was relatively clean, it was dark and lonely. She quickly removed her clothing down to her damp combination and drawers. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an effort to stay warm, she hurried to the fireplace.

The sight of a small stack of firewood and kindling next to the stone hearth made her sigh with relief. Now all she needed was a piece of flint. In the near darkness, she ran her hand along the mantle in search of a flint box. At the same moment her fingers grasped the starter, a loud crack split the air as the hut door flew open.

With a scream of surprise, she whirled around to see a dark figure in the doorway. Frightened, she stumbled backward until the fireplace’s stone mantle pressed painfully into the back of her neck. Lightning flashed outside, and the brief flicker of light revealed a familiar scarred face. Weak-kneed, she clutched at the mantle to steady herself.

“Quentin,” she breathed with relief.

“Damn it to hell, Sophie, what in god’s name were you thinking to come out in this kind of weather.”

Without looking at her, Quentin closed the door behind him. Still shaken, she swallowed her fright as she watched him remove his overcoat. He shook the garment out then hung it on a hook close to the door. When he turned to face her, she could just make out the harsh lines of his face. A low growl rumbled out of him as he closed the distance between them and grasped her shivering shoulders. The moment he touched her, he grew still as a statute.

“
Christ Jesus,”
he choked out in a strained voice. “You’re soaked through.”

“Of course…I’m…soaked…it’s rain…raining.” She tried to sound amused, but her chattering teeth made her attempt an abysmal failure.

At her chattering response, Quentin frowned darkly. Whipping off his jacket, he covered her bare shoulders with it. The garment was relatively dry, and the warmth of it eased most of her discomfort immediately.

“Why the devil didn’t you stay at home?” he asked as he roughly rubbed her shoulders and arms in an attempt to warm her. “I would have thought you had more sense than to come out in this type of weather.”

“It wasn’t…wasn’t rain…raining….when I…left home,” she said between her chattering teeth. “And I could…could say the same to you.”

“I was at a nearby tenant’s farm, and came just to reassure myself that you weren’t mad enough to ride out in this weather.”

“Oh,” she said. The fact that he’d wanted to make sure she was safe warmed her.

“We need a fire before you catch a chill,” he growled as he looked down at the fireplace.

Her teeth still chattering, Sophie offered up the starter clutched in her hand. With a grunt of irritation, he snatched the flint out of her fingers and busied himself with making a fire. She quickly stepped aside and moved to the middle of the room. Quentin’s coat had warmed her a great deal, but she was still shivering as she watched him work.

One knee pressed into the stone hearth, he bent forward to arrange several pieces of wood in the fireplace. There was a suppressed strength about him that she was certain could be destructive or protective depending on his mood. With each movement of his arm as he picked up another piece of wood, the linen shirt he wore stretched taut against his back. Her eyes drifted down to where his riding breeches hugged his buttocks. He was beautiful.

Hypnotized, she noted the sleek, muscular build of his thighs as he leaned into the fireplace and blew gently on the small flame he’d created. His dark hair was wet from the downpour, and she wanted a towel to dry it so she could slide her fingers through it like she had yesterday. A deep ache suddenly pushed its way into her conscious mind. It drew her belly up tight then slowly spiraled downward until it settled in the apex of her thighs.