Two Shades of Seduction (9 page)

“Which shall it be? Lunch or dessert,” he teased. Sophie hesitated, and his body grew taut as he realized how much he wanted her to say dessert.

“I prefer to save dessert for last. Anticipation is a large part of pleasure, isn’t it?” Her smile was without artifice, but there was a hint of flirtation in the curve of her lip.

The power of Sophie’s smile slammed into him with an unexpected force. Quentin sucked in a sharp breath at his reaction before he quickly turned away to lead her horse to a nearby shrub. It gave him time to reconcile his reaction to Sophie’s smile with the lust she incited in him. The woman was a natural seductress.

Not about to let his desire rule his head, he quickly twisted the horse’s leather reins around a branch to ensure the animal wouldn’t bolt. Quentin turned to see Sophie bent over the wolfhounds. Beast was already on his back begging her to scratch his belly, while Caesar was trying to lick her face. She’d conquered them already. The small scene reminded him of a time when he’d watched his mother playing with the new puppy his father brought home. It was a bittersweet memory that tightened his jaw with tension.

“Beast. Caesar. Enough.” The dogs immediately came to attention at the stern note in his voice. Sophie smiled up at him.

“They’re quite playful. Which one is which?” she asked.

“Beast is the gray. Caesar is the sandy-colored one.”

She gave both animals one last caress then turned and followed him to the picnic blanket. She waited just on the edge of the spread, her fingers clenching the riding gloves she’d removed. Not waiting on her, he sank down onto his knees and sat back on his heels, watching her with an amused smile. She frowned and stared at him from edge of the checkered coverlet spread out on the grass.

“Your manners are appalling, my lord,” she snapped. “You could have at least offered me your hand.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said with amusement.

In a split second, he grasped her wrist and pulled her downward. A soft cry of surprise escaped her lovely mouth as she tumbled into his arms. The sound made him chuckle as he resisted the temptation to press her backward into the blanket then kiss her until her glare was one of desire.

“You make it difficult to forgive you, my lord,” she huffed.

“Do I?” He arched an eyebrow at her and grinned, thoroughly enjoying the way she bristled at his teasing.

“You would not be laughing at me otherwise,” she snapped. There was a sudden glimmer of pain in her eyes that made Quentin frown.

“I’m not making fun of you, Sophie,” he said quietly and grazed her cheek with his forefinger. “I might lack refinement at times, but I have no wish to injure your feelings.”

The shadow of pain slowly faded from her gaze, and it sent a bolt of relief through him. His insides knotted up at how easily Sophie held his senses captive. With a small grimace, he helped her take a seat next to him on the large blanket. Suddenly eager to see her smile again, he gestured toward the covered dishes he’d brought with them.

“Cook prepared cold chicken, cheeses, bread, and an apple pie for desert.”

“Shall I serve?” she asked with a small smile.

“By all means. Of course I’d much rather have
you
for lunch.” Quentin eyed her with amusement as she flushed beneath his gaze. Despite the lovely shade of pink filling her cheeks, she didn’t hesitate with her reply.

“I fear you’d suffer from indigestion, my lord.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” He laughed. “In fact, I’m certain I’ll find you a tasty morsel.”

“I thought we were here to get to know each other,” she said in a prim tone of voice designed to put him off. “A speedy courtship to convince everyone we are suitable for each other.”

“Would you prefer I simply forego any pretense of courtship and anticipate the marriage bed and all its sinful pleasures?”

For a moment, she stared at him aghast. Then to his surprise, she laughed. It was a robust and musical sound, and Quentin found it quite pleasant to his ears. She shook her head and directed a skeptical smile at him.

“You really are a rogue. I think you’re deliberately trying to shock me.”

“I simply speak my mind. The thought of bedding you is one I’ve contemplated quite a bit since our kiss yesterday,” he said as he looked down at the plate she’d handed him.

The telltale hiss of her sucking in a sharp breath made him suppress a smile as he bit into a chunk of cheese. He lifted his head to see her studying her plate of food. From the color riding high in her cheeks, he was certain their kiss had been a source of contemplation for her as well. The thought pleased him, almost as much as the thought of hearing her moan softly into his mouth.

His gaze met hers as he picked up a piece of cheese and slowly bit into it. She quickly looked away to continue eating her meal in silence. Amused, he took a swig of wine, studying Sophie over the rim of his cup. It was obvious she enjoyed the meal. Unlike many women he’d met, she didn’t eat like a sparrow. He’d always liked his women softly rounded.

Setting his plate aside on the blanket, yet well within his reach, Quentin stretched out his legs and reclined back on one elbow. Determined to learn more about the enigmatic woman he was to marry, he nodded toward the white stallion tied to a nearby bush.

“You ride well. There aren’t many women who can handle a horse of that size.” At his compliment, a mixture of surprise and delight swept across her heart-shaped face.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she looked at the horse and a brief glimmer of fear shone in her hazel eyes. “Augustus is one of the few pleasures in my life. I would hate to lose him.”

“Lose him?”

“My father…if he knew how much I loved Augustus, he’d quickly find a buyer for Augustus.”

“I see. Then I’ll make arrangements to buy the animal for you through an agent,” he said quietly, well aware his funds were limited until the steel from his mill in America reached the London docks.

“You would do that?” she asked with a soft gasp as joy swept across her lovely features.

“Consider it a wedding present.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said as she leaned forward and squeezed his hand.

The heartfelt emotion in her voice and touch made Quentin stiffen as he realized how much he enjoyed making her happy. The knowledge sounded an alarm in his head which he silenced with a healthy dose of scornful mockery. He had no illusions about his impending nuptials. It was a business arrangement that would afford him the pleasure of indulging himself with Sophie, while destroying the man who’d taken everything from him.

Quentin’s mouth tightened with repressed anger at the thought of the baron. His gaze fell on Sophie again as she took a sip of wine from the tin cup Cook had packed with their picnic. Sophie had indicated her father had betrayed her, but something about her response seconds ago told him there was more to Sophie’s story than she’d revealed.

“Are you certain you wish to give me your father’s books?”

Quentin bit down on the inside of his cheek. What the hell was he thinking? She was going to give him the means to destroy Townsend. Why in god’s name would he offer her a chance to retract her offer? Sophie’s gaze met his and she nodded.

“Yes.” Her eyes darkened with pain despite the firm reply.

“I’m surprised your father isn’t as devoted to you as he is to Eleanor.”

“He’s not…my father loved my stepmother very much,” Sophie said as she turned her head away in an obvious attempt to hide her expression. “Eleanor looks like her, and it’s understandable why he is devoted to her.”

“You must look like your mother. You certainly don’t resemble Townsend,” he said quietly.

“No, I don’t…I don’t look like him at all.” The slight hesitation in her response made Quentin eye her with curiosity.

“And he’s made you pay a price for not looking like him.”

It was a stab in the dark, but there was something elusive about Sophie that made him probe deeper than he had yesterday. Sophie flinched and lowered her gaze to her plate. She didn’t speak for a long moment, but Quentin didn’t push her. He’d learned patience in the past five years.

“Yes. I paid a price,” she said in a stilted tone. Her face became a frozen mask as she stared out at the meadow in front of them.

“Does he beat you, Sophie?” She immediately blanched as her gaze jerked back to meet his. “He has, but I’ve learned how to avoid incurring his wrath.”

Quentin found his gut twisting into knots at the thought of Townsend raising his hand to her. A natural instinct to protect her surged through him. The bastard would never touch Sophie again once they were married.

“But it’s his insults and criticism that are more difficult to ignore,” he said, and her hazel eyes widened in surprise. Quentin shook his head slightly as her expression confirmed his educated guess. “You forget I’ve been the target of your father’s ire as well. Although his insults were far less painful to bear than his theft of my inheritance.”

“A theft for which I feel partly responsible.”

“
Christ Jesus
, why should you feel blame,” he exclaimed as he stared at her in amazement.

“I keep my father’s books.” Regret filled her voice as she shook her head. “If I’d not been in London, I might have discovered his intentions and warned you.”

“You’re Townsend’s daughter. I doubt you would have gained access to the keep,” Quentin said in a tight voice as he remembered his anger and sense of betrayal five years ago. “I found it difficult enough yesterday not to simply throw you out.”

“While your behavior was far from gentlemanly, I find it hard to believe you had to restrain yourself from ordering me out of your home.” Sophie laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she tilted her head slightly. “You left me with the distinct impression you cared little as to whether I came or went.”

“Then you’re mistaken,” he said softly. “After my initial irritation, I found myself not wanting you to leave at all.”

“You’re trying to shock me again,” she said with a laugh. It was a lighthearted sound, but it held a breathless excitement underneath. “It won’t work.”

“No?” He grinned. Sophie might not realize it, but she’d just offered him a challenge. Slowly pushing aside his plate, he moved closer to her. “Tell me, Sophie, what do you expect our life to be like once we’re married?”

“I haven’t given it much thought,” she said as a frown furrowed her brow. “Our bargain calls for us to lead separate lives, so I would think you would live in London while I remain here.”

“I see,” he murmured. “And what of the other part of our bargain? You said you wanted to experience what it’s like between a man and woman.”

“You truly are a scoundrel, my lord,” she said as a pink flush darkened her cheeks.

“Quentin.” The inflexible note in his voice deepened the color in her cheek as she nodded.

“Quentin,” she said softly. Satisfied with her response, he reached for his cup to take another swallow of wine.

“Now then, where were we, ah yes, I’m a scoundrel for reminding you of the
carnal
aspect of our bargain.” His words made her look away from him, and he reached out to graze the back of her hand with his finger.

“Yes, you are.” She quickly snatched her hand away from his with an expression of exasperation, and he laughed.

“But scoundrel or not, you’ve not changed your mind as to our exploring the art of pleasure.”

“I…no, I’ve not changed my mind,” she said in a breathless voice before straightening her shoulders and directing a haughty look at him. “However, I am certain you shall tire of me quickly.”

“Oh I find that quite difficult to believe, Sophie,” he said with a conviction that surprised him. “In fact, I think I shall spend a great deal of time instructing you in the delights of the martial bed.”

“And yet you
will
lose interest, and we shall go our separate ways.”

“Your logical, fatalistic viewpoint regarding our marriage surprises me.”

“I don’t see why. Our marriage is a business arrangement. We’re no different from other couples who do the same. The only difference is that revenge is at the heart of our bargain, unlike money and social status.”

“Yesterday a philosopher, today a cynic,” he said with a chuckle. “And what of love, Sophie? Do you not long for love?”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized what was happening.
Bloody hell.
What the devil had possessed him to ask her such a ridiculous question? Of course, she longed for love. What woman didn’t?

But love wasn’t something he was capable of giving her. He would never trust a woman again. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him. Frowning, he cursed himself again as she smiled with a touch of irony.

“Love is for idealists. I am far too practical to indulge in wishful thinking.”

Sophie’s response shot a bolt of relief through him. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about her falling in love with him. If she were to develop an affection for him, it would complicate matters when he eventually took a mistress. Her pragmatic view of their marriage was one he appreciated as he had no wish to hurt her.

“So aside from our martial bed and eventually living apart, what else do you expect from our marriage.”

“If you’re concerned I’ll make demands on your time, I will do so only if necessary. I’m quite self-sufficient.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” He grinned. “It’s virtually unheard of for a beautiful woman to storm the Devil of Devlyn in his keep with the intention of proposing marriage.”

“You are clearly delusional,” Sophie said with a look of amused exasperation. “Anyone of sound mind would never classify me as beautiful.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my sweet, and I find you quite lovely to look at.” Quentin caught Sophie’s hand and as his mouth brushed across her knuckles, she shuddered.

“It seems I’ve underestimated you, my lord,” she said in a breathless voice. “You aren’t a scoundrel. You’re a wolf.”

“A wolf who won’t hesitate to enjoy feasting on your lush curves.” Taking a drink of wine, Quentin wondered how no man had never seen Sophie for the lovely woman she was.