Two Shades of Seduction (18 page)

“I remember.” Her heart skipped a beat as his forefinger trailed its way across her cheek.

“It would be inhuman not to feel guilt, Sophie. What you call betrayal, I call justice. Your father will reap what he’s sown.”

His voice was gentle, almost tender, and her heart stopped for a fraction of a second before it resumed its beat as his finger traced the outline of her mouth. Her pulse fluttered as she drew in a breath of air. She would have been better off not breathing. The scent of pine needles and leather soap filled her nose. It was a potent smell that was everything dangerous male. This time she did stop breathing as she saw something primordial flared to life in his eyes.

A seductive smile curved his sensual mouth, and desire swirled in her belly. God, how could she crave his touch after the things he’d said to her yesterday? Part of her wanted nothing more than to denounce him for his cruel words. While the other half of her wanted to fling herself into his arms.

Even though she knew he’d see it as a sign of weakness, she took a quick step backward. Her retreat made him arch his eyebrow, and he smiled. It was a teasing smile that beckoned her to forgive him. She resisted the temptation to do so. She didn’t want to forgive him, any more than she wanted to feel his touch again. Liar. She wanted him to touch her again and again. Desperate to escape, she fought to control her erratic breathing so she could speak coherently.

“My lord, if you’ll excuse me, this morning’s events have been quite tiring, and I’d like to rest for a while.”

“Shall I show you to your room?” A frown of what looked like concern swiftly replaced his smile. She dismissed the notion as she shook her head.

“That won’t be necessary, I’m certain Fischer, or the housemaid, will be able to help me find my way.”

She didn’t wait to hear his response. She simply walked out of the room without a backward glance.

§  §  §

Sophie awoke with a jerk. She wasn’t accustomed to remembering her dreams. The dream had been so vivid she could almost feel the pressure of a hard masculine body against hers and a mouth as hot as sin working its way across her skin. Trembling, she sat up to look around the room Fischer had shown her to when she’d fled Quentin’s study. The bedroom had once been quite lovely, but now the curtains, coverlet, and carpet were all well past their prime. Her mouth twisted in an ironic grimace. Not unlike herself.

Despite its aged appearance, there was still a quaint charm about the room. It was clean and welcoming, even down to the fresh flowers in the vase beside her bed. Her gaze drifted to the wall opposite the window. The wooden door was a reminder that the man in her dreams was now her husband. She frowned slightly then turned her head back to the window. From where she sat on the bed, she could see the sun was low on the horizon, which meant she’d slept most of the afternoon.

She’d not slept well last night, and her nap had been a welcome relief from the stressful morning. Leaving her father’s house had been easier than she’d anticipated. Over the course of the past three days, she’d smuggled her ledgers out of her father’s office. Spencer had smuggled her luggage out of the house in the early morning hours.

Sliding off the bed, she moved to the dressing table. The bedraggled woman staring out at her from the mirror made Sophie wince. Someone had unpacked her things and laid them out on the table. Her fingers stroked the handle of her mother’s brush before she quickly pulled the pins from her hair. As she brushed her hair, she wondered if her father had found her letter yet.

Whether he sought her out or not, the only thing she expected from him was anger. A small part of her still hoped he might harbor some feelings for her, but deep inside she knew it was a futile hope. She wasn’t even his child, why on earth would he love her. Why would any man want a bastard child? Sophie closed her eyes. Quentin didn’t know the truth, and she needed to tell him.

Fingers trembling, she pulled her hair up and pinned it into a somewhat presentable style. Her appearance was the least of her problems. The Earl of Devlyn was her most pressing difficulty at the moment. She’d denied being a liar, and yet she’d not shared her darkest secret. A shudder rippled through her. Quentin would never forgive her for marrying him under false pretenses. She flinched at the thought.

Things had been made all the more difficult by his behavior since this morning. She looked down at her hand as she recalled him squeezing it during the marriage ceremony. It had been a gesture of reassurance that all would be well. Then there had been his outraged disapproval in his study when he’d seen how many ledgers she’d kept. His reaction had been that of someone concerned for her safety. No one other than Spencer had ever cared what happened to her.

Although Quentin had not apologized for yesterday, she knew he wasn’t the kind of man who would find it easy to apologize. His pride wouldn’t let him admit that he’d been wrong. The knowledge didn’t ease the pain his words had caused her, but his considerate and supportive manner had been a silent indication of his regret. A regret he shouldn’t be feeling when she really was the liar he’d declared her to be.

The one thing she couldn’t lie about was her reaction to him. She should be ashamed of herself for craving his touch. She was far too old to be enthralled with a man so much younger. But as much as she wanted to deny it, the pleasure she’d experienced yesterday had been wickedly sinful, and it had only intensified her desire for him. There could be only one outcome for her if she didn’t keep her heart safe. The only problem was that she wasn’t sure she could.

Another shudder rippled through her as she stared at her reflection. No matter how much she might be attracted to Quentin she couldn’t allow herself to succumb to his touch again. It was too dangerous. Yesterday had illustrated how easy it would be for her to surrender her heart to her husband, and if that happened, she’d be lost. No. Yesterday would be her only taste of pleasure in Devlyn’s arms. She couldn’t risk her heart with another encounter.

Q
uentin frowned as his latest attempt to draw Sophie into a conversation failed. Yesterday had been a disaster. No, it had been the most pleasurable experience he ever recalled having. At least it had been until his brother-in-law had barged into the cottage and things had fallen apart. It also hadn’t helped that they’d parted badly yesterday. His fingers drummed softly against the white table linen as he studied her pushing her food around on her plate.

“Cook will be disappointed when she learns you didn’t enjoy your dinner.”

“It’s quite delicious,” she said as her gaze jerked upward to meet his. “I’m simply not hungry.”

“Perhaps you would prefer dessert.”

He knew precisely what dessert he wanted, and from her startled expression, he could tell she understood his double entendre. Unfortunately, she seemed far from receptive to the idea. In fact, she looked miserable. So unhappy that he had the sudden urge to go to her and hold her close. He drew in a quiet breath and released it in soft frustration.

Somehow, he didn’t think she would be all that receptive to that idea either. Discouraged by the tension between them, Quentin took another swallow of wine then set the crystal glass down hard enough to have wine slosh out and stain the tablecloth red. He stared at the ever-widening spot. Yesterday he’d taken Sophie as if she were a woman off the streets.

The woodcutter’s cottage had been the wrong place to initiate her in the art of pleasure. But he intended to make it up to her. He’d see to it that tonight would be special. Quentin’s gaze returned to his wife as she laid her fork down in a deliberate movement and dropped her napkin onto the table.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord. I believe I shall retire. It’s been an exhausting day.”

“You did not rest well this afternoon?” Quentin narrowed his gaze at her in puzzlement. Long day? Hell, she’d spent the entire afternoon in her bedroom.

“The bed was quite comfortable. I simply find all of it a bit…unsettling.” Her fingers toyed with her discarded napkin. “Although I was happy to leave my father’s house, it was nonetheless the only home I’ve ever known.”

“You’re safe here, Sophie,” he said quietly. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She gave him an odd look of confusion then quickly rose from her chair and headed toward the dining room door. “Goodnight, my lord.”

“Surely, you’ve not forgotten our agreement, Sophie.” As he spoke, she jerked her head in his direction, and to his surprise, her expression was a mixture of fear and anger. The anger he understood. But the fear troubled him.

“I consider our agreement to be complete,” she bit out coldly. “I have provided you with the means for your revenge, and you’ve fulfilled your part of the bargain to my satisfaction.”

Speechless, Quentin didn’t move as she walked stiffly toward the dining room door. Fulfilled his part of the bargain to her satisfaction? It was as if she’d kicked him in the stomach. He didn’t like the sensation one bit. He hadn’t even
begun
to complete his part of their arrangement. What had happened yesterday had been only the beginning, and he wasn’t about to let her walk away from him so easily.

Shoving back his chair from the table, he was on his feet in a split second. With three long strides, he crossed the dining room floor to catch up with her just as she reached the door. With a quick twist of the key, he locked the door then tucked the key in his pocket. Serenely composed, she steadily met his gaze. Anyone would have thought them having nothing more than a casual conversation, if it weren’t for the shimmer of trepidation in her beautiful hazel eyes.

“If this is about yesterday, then I deserve your anger,” he said tightly as he stretched out his hand to stroke her cheek. “I am guilty of misjudging you.”

“I…” Her words trailed off into silence. For a brief moment, guilt darkened her expression before her composure returned. “I’m certain we both said things that are best forgotten, my lord.”

“And the things we shouldn’t forget?” he murmured as he stepped forward. Like a startled wren, she quickly put several feet between them.

“I don’t understand.” There was a breathless quality to her voice and he liked the sound. Quentin smiled.

“Then perhaps I should clarify, Sophie.”

“Yes, I think you should.” Her composure slipped slightly as she eyed him like a wary opponent.

“First, I enjoy pleasant conversation during dinner. Apathetic or morose behavior is not conducive to one’s appetite or health.” He suppressed a smile at the relief sweeping across her face.

“I agree. However, might I point out that I did state I was exhausted?” Indignation made her tilt her head at a defiant angle. Damn, but she was lovely.

“Second, while this is your home too,
I
, and I alone, rule here,” he said.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he closed the distance between them again. Despite the rebellious tilt to her sweetly curved mouth, she quickly retreated. Aware of her growing discomfort, he briefly noted the pink color staining her cheeks, before his gaze slowly wandered downward to examine her full curves with appreciation.

“My understanding was that we would lead separate lives once our arrangement was complete.” Her voice was a breathy, choked sound breaking past her lips.

“That I remember agreeing to,” he murmured. “But it’s the termination of our arrangement where we are in disagreement.”

“I don’t understand.”

Her eyes widen as he stepped toward her again. Satisfaction tightened his muscles as she backed into the edge of the dining table. When she moved to dart past him, he caught her easily. Gently, but firmly, pinning her arms behind her back, he pulled her close.

“I don’t believe I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain at all, Sophie. I’ve not shown you every way a man can pleasure a woman, or all the ways a woman can pleasure a man.”

“I only…I only asked to experience what it was like between a man and a woman.” She shook her head with a quick jerk, her eyes wide. “I…you…yesterday…”

“Yesterday, I showed a complete lack of control, Sophie.” He bent his head and kissed the edge of her mouth. “But you are enough to tempt the self-control of the devil himself.”

She suddenly grew still, and he raised his head to look at her. The pink that had darkened her cheeks was gone, and she had the look of a fragile porcelain doll.

“I am certain you find me amusing, my lord. But I do not appreciate being the target of insincere compliments. Now let me go.” There was a pained tightness to her voice, and it made him frown in puzzlement.

“What the devil are you talking about?” he growled in surprised irritation as she glared at him.

“I find it difficult to believe you would find me tempting enough to lose all self-control.”

Her cool reply made him stare at her in astonishment. She hid her emotions well, but her eyes were like windows that reflected every painful taunt she’d endured in her father’s house. Townsend deserved to be strung up by his ballocks for what he’d done to Sophie. It wasn’t the first time he’d experience a need to protect Sophie, but the viciousness of his need to avenge her
was
.