Emily French (28 page)
Authors: Illusion
With infinite slowness, he parted the stems of her legs and gazed lovingly down at the moist petals of the flower thus revealed. When Sophy felt the heated stab of his tongue in her core, she arched up with her hips, crying out in inarticulate delight. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably as Seth worshiped her body with his mouth.
Then the urgency of his own desire compelled him to complete the union. Gently at first until she was accustomed to the feel of him, then, with infinite tenderness, he propelled her into the rhythm of his need. Her body answered with a surge of excitement.
She loved him so much it made her mind spin, as if she were drunk with too much wine. This was what she had wanted, what she had craved.
When the vibrations began, for a brief time Sophy believed that an earthquake had begun, then she realized that the sensation was entirely internal. It seemed perfectly natural and not at all shameless when she pressed more directly against him in order to pass on the sensation.
Seth’s body, too, was making its claims. Sophy heard his breath come in great jagged gasps, like steam escaping, as he buried his face in her tossing hair. Felt the powerful play of muscles in his body as they bunched in excitement, ready for the ultimate discharge.
The trembling came to Sophy again, this time in great racking pulses, so that she moaned with the exquisite perfection of the moment. Like the burst of a cannon’s fusillade he went rigid against her, the tension draining out of him as he shot his seemingly limitless seed.
They lay together as one person, all passion spent, bathed in the fire’s glow and the aftermath of loving. Drifting back to reality, Sophy smiled up at Seth as he placed a gentle kiss on her nose. His eyes were as still and deep as a mountain pool.
Without a word, he pulled the covers over them and laid his head on the pillow next to hers. It was as if he were reluctant to move away from her. Tenderly, he put out his arm and drew her next to his side. She cuddled near him and they both slept.
Drowsily, Sophy opened her eyes. There was a heavy weight across one leg, and a soft warmth was blowing, quietly and evenly, at regular intervals against her face.
Seth lay sprawled beside her, his black hair stuck up endearingly in little points, his dark eyelashes tangled at the edges. He was still asleep, his face turned to the side, toward her.
He was on his stomach, stretched like some great cat, one leg straight out, the other bent at the knee. It was this leg that secured Sophy to the bed as effectively as a butterfly on a pin. It was as if, even in sleep, he wanted her by his side.
Turning carefully, she slid her numb limb from beneath him, wriggling her toes experimentally. They still moved. She braced herself on one elbow and studied his sleeping face.
He looked totally at ease as, in the manner of some great conquering hero, he took command of more than his share of the bed. The covers lay in a tangled heap on the floor. Only part of a sheet remained on the bed, and this, already sliding to join the others, trailed across one of his ankles.
Even in sleep, the powerful contours of his body reflected the intrinsic strength of the man. The driving energy and strict discipline that had enabled him to overcome an injury that would have totally crippled a lesser man were evident in the relaxed sweep of muscle and sinew.
Quietly Sophy slid off the bed and tiptoed to the cherry-wood dresser for her wrapper. She needed desperately to think before she faced him. She knew she had made the right decision, but that did not make her resigned to the inevitable results of that decision.
Seth grunted and turned his head. The sheet slipped to the floor with a mere whisper of sound as he moved his leg. She shot him a covert look, but he was still again, breathing steadily. He was still sleeping when she let herself out the door.
Seth lay quietly, blinking himself into awareness. Sophy! He turned to greet her eagerly, but there was only the dent in the pillow where her head had lain.
Yet the tenuous connection was still there, last night’s events somehow linking them like a length of twined silk. There was a dull ache behind his eyes when he thought of Sophy’s fear in the dark cellar, the generous gift of herself, his inability to say aloud what was burning inside him.
His thoughts and feelings shifted, rearranged themselves, as he made a determined attempt to understand and to find some steady ground. The same desperate search for steady ground had been his focus after Gettysburg, and his life felt as shattered as his leg.
He had regained his iron control, and was just preparing to shave when Sophy returned, fully dressed. Today she had on a deep crimson velvet gown with some sort of trim at the hem. Around the low neckline was a little frill, and the silver choker she favored was at her throat. Her hair swirled in a delicious loop over the curve of her cheeks, then twisted in a spiral to coil in a little knot on her crown.
There was a huge bow at the back that perched provocatively on top of the draped-up skirt It swayed when she moved. Knowing the real contours and the sweet flare of the hips beneath all that padding sent a fresh surge of excitement clear down to his toes.
It took an extreme effort of will to simply stand there and pretend he wasn’t burning up inside. Two patches of dull red stained the ridge of his cheeks but his voice was calm and steady.
“Good morning, Sophy. Going somewhere?”
Sophy blinked rapidly. “I promised your mother we would purchase some of that wonderful new flexible webbing that is now being imported from France.
“For garters,” she explained patiently in response to his blank look. She lifted the front of her skirt to show him her own white silk stockings with the elastic ruching just below the knee.
“Oh.” The tremor grew in him to hard stiffness.
“Are... are you cross with me?”
Seth was pouring hot water into his shaving mug, his brow furrowed in thought, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Determinedly, Sophy continued, “For being such a watering pot?”
“Christ, Sophy! It’s too early in the morning to needle me like this. At least let me shave first! The water’s getting cold.” He smiled to take the sting out of the words. Something in his eyes suddenly melted. “If you shut up, you can even stay and watch met” He waved a hand as if in dismissal, fully expecting her to go.
Cheeks crimson with pleasure, Sophy needed no further invitation. She sat down promptly, her heart hammering, feeling suddenly like a child who had discovered her love of sweets. Once in the shop she was reluctant to depart. She smiled at him, a shy and pleased expression.
He was giving her the opening she needed, but was there a catch? Every time she thought she knew him, another aspect of his personality would pop up like a rabbit out of a magician’s hat. She was reviewing the situation with commendable detachment when he rinsed his face and began his morning routine.
It was perfectly fascinating to see Seth perform such a masculine task. Stripped to the waist, towel draped around his neck, he ran his razor down the strop. The action was like some barbaric ceremonial ritual.
Wide-eyed, she sat ever so still and watched the expertise and dexterity that were needed for such a seemingly simple procedure. Desire was in her eyes. She knew it, but couldn’t disguise the emotion.
Seth looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror, and smiled in indulgent humor, the satisfaction in him plainly visible. “Why don’t you think out loud?” He mixed shaving soap and began to lather his face.
If possible, Sophy turned a brighter shade of crimson, a sudden shyness catching her unexpectedly. She propped her elbow on her knee, and lodged her chin in her hand. A thick coil of hair slid across one side of her face like a midnight waterfall.
“I was thinking of our wedding bargain,” she told him with soft candor.
Seth dipped his shaving brush in the mug so violently, the hot water ran over the edge, pooling on the marble bench top. He irritably topped up the mug from the steaming copper jug that had been sent up on the dumbwaiter.
“Do we have to talk about that now? Can’t you leave that out of our conversation just this once?” Seth growled as he leaned over the bench top and lifted his chin, trying to see himself in the mirror.
“I suppose so.”
Sophy stifled a sigh in her throat. She had given of her love freely to him and he had accepted it, giving only the physical side of himself in return. Don’t think. Don’t think about that, she chided herself.
“I think,” she said slowly, at length, “that I see my duty more clearly now.”
Seth’s hands stilled. “Duty? Duty!” he repeated blankly. “You would never call what we did together last night
duty!
” he demanded, a baffled expression on his half-lathered face.
duty!
” he demanded, a baffled expression on his half-lathered face.
Sophy looked up wonderingly, staring at him in disbelief. No, it had been the wildest, most intense emotion she had ever known, but the physical intimacy had been only the totally consummate expression of her deepest feelings. Last night she had placed her trust in the palm of his hand.
Her tongue came out to dampen her lips. “Are you saying that you felt the same outpouring of love that I did?”
Seth swung around, his blue eyes narrowed.
Yes
, came the sound in his mind, and he started in spite of himself. Should he tell her that he wanted her, all of her: her energy, her contrariness, her spunk, even her downright bossiness?
Yes
, came the sound in his mind, and he started in spite of himself. Should he tell her that he wanted her, all of her: her energy, her contrariness, her spunk, even her downright bossiness?
He glanced at Sophy, and blinked a little, as if trying to assess her mood. She was very still, her huge luminous eyes fixed on his, waiting for his answer. He hesitated to answer.
What did he have to say to her? That she was an incredibly loving woman? That he wanted to sink into her flesh? Or that he was a man of honor?
Somehow, without his consent or knowledge, Sophy had wedged herself into his heart. As soon as he had his financial situation sorted out and they were on an equal footing, he would tell her. In the meantime...
“You want me to be honest?” His voice was dark in timbre, ebony velvet.
Sophy flinched at the blunt question, and her heart gave a sudden quick throb of dismay, but she nodded bravely. She realized with a swiftness that took her breath away just how fragile the illusion of love was.
“Love is not on my agenda, as I told you when we sealed our bargain,” he said, making his voice as gentle as he could.
Sophy shivered as she faced him, the pain in her clearly reflected in the taut line of her mouth and in the depths of her eyes. It wasn’t right, but he meant it. She knew he meant it. His absolute assurance struck her dumb.
Seth stared at her for a long moment, and then he seemed to draw a deep breath. His face softened and he lifted his hand to flick gentle fingers along the line of her cheek.
“I care for you, Sophy. I care a great deal. You have given me more than I ever dreamed or imagined. I don’t want to jeopardize our relationship with introspection. Is it wrong to wish to count my blessings and leave it at that?” he added, surprised by the softness in his voice.
Out of the small silence that built itself, Sophy said softly, “I would not call it wrong. Merely shortsighted, for in avoiding suffering and risk and danger, one loses out on much of what makes life exciting and pleasurable.”
Her voice was low, but not lacking in strength. Every word came with the steady force of unwavering conviction. She took a step toward him, reached out her hand to touch his face, forefinger lightly brushing his mouth.
“The heart is a house with a room for every person it loves. It is a very special gift. You have the capacity to love, do not deny it!”
Sophy couldn’t keep the passionate appeal out of her voice, and the emotion cut through the space between them. Her eyes glittered as she looked up at him, diamond bright with the hint of tears she was holding back with a supreme effort of will.
“Maybe.”
He said no more, knowing that anything he said would be superfluous. His throat closed, and there was a peculiar pucker around his mouth as he turned back to the mirror.
Sophy swallowed her chagrin, her dark hair swaying with her motion. Had the man last night only been an illusion? A creation of her own mind brought about by a desire to justify her surrender to the compelling fascination Seth had for her?
Then she suddenly remembered Madame Bertine’s counsel. For every person, there is always another who has followed in the same shoes to the same fate. She would not take Madame Bertine’s path. But she would take, whatever the cost of shameless or indelicate conduct, that provocative and intemperate advice.
A smile hovered on her wide, tender mouth. He would be shocked. But perhaps the shock would jolt his stupid notions on love just as Bernard’s experiments with electricity jolted bits of wire.
Sophy put her arms around Seth from behind and kissed him between the shoulder blades, enjoying the pleasant taste and scent of his smooth skin. She had to rub her cheek against him, to press the smile from her lips.
“You didn’t expect me to give up just because of last night? That was a draw!” She deliberately injected a measure of lightness into her voice. Standing on the tips of her toes, she blew at the lather under his chin, gently laughing at the shudder that went through him.
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