Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) (9 page)

No, he hoped he’d given her a night’s rest. He had no illusions he’d get any sleep at all.

* * * * *

Lars said nothing but looked at her, the longing in his eyes accompanied by sorrowful determination. A determination as firm as the stone statue she’d admired. She feared she could never break his iron will.

“Will you still teach me to ride?” Sophie blurted out the words, desperate to keep some kind of contact with the man she loved.

“Of course. But that has no bearing on our situation. You already know I’ll always help you with anything bothering you.”

Yet the path of revenge she’d chosen could easily get her killed. And anyone who helped her. She didn’t intend to put Lars in more danger. He was amazingly powerful, but he was not proof against a bullet or a sneak attack.

She said nothing, longing for him but knowing she couldn’t commit to him until she’d avenged her father.

It was a long moment before he spoke. “I won’t get angry again. And I won’t give up. In the meantime, I’ll tell my mother you need more time to get over your terrible experiences.”

She nodded in agreement and he stared at her with desolate eyes and then walked away, closing the door softly behind him.

Sophie waited a moment, then scurried to her room. She needed as much privacy as she could get. Tears were running down her cheeks, but she was in luck and saw no one. When she reached her room she threw herself on the bed, trying to control her sobs. Her weeping finally exhausted, she curled up to think of what to do next. How could she find her father’s murderer without involving Lars? He was so damned determined to protect her.

She had no choice but to do this alone. She’d do anything to keep Lars safe. He might be an elf, a gorgeous and powerful elf, and wiser and stronger than a human. But he could still be shot from ambush or even poisoned.

She’d not put him in danger again.

But how could she exist without the pleasure of swiveling her hips on his powerful erection? And doing all the wonderful things he’d taught her? To bring them both to the screaming ecstasy she knew she’d never find with another man?

* * * * *

Sophie found the riding lessons a pleasure, even though Lars touched her as little as possible. He instructed one of the grooms to help her mount as he silently watched. Still, it gave her a chance to see him at more than the dinner hour. What he did all day she didn’t know, except for his piano playing. His skill was so pronounced, she noticed servants stopping in their duties with rapt expressions. Probably he spent some of his time catching up on the vast estate’s activities and tenants. She read a lot, chatted with the countess and counted the hours until the next riding lesson. At least she could touch him as he helped her dismount. He didn’t seem to want to delegate that task. That was of little help as he never took off his riding gloves until her feet touched the ground.

And she polished her new theorem until she was certain it was a novel and even brilliant idea.

Sophie knew her best chance to find Mallory would be in London. Since this wasn’t yet possible, perhaps she could track down the horrid villain from the ship. He might very well be on the lookout for her, especially if he had been sent by Mallory, the man she’d seen murder her father. And the black-bearded sailor might still be in the vicinity.

That night at dinner she casually mentioned to the countess that she was woefully short of hair ribbons. Lars immediately perked up his beautiful elves’ ears and stared at her. Drat the man, he knew well she’d never care a hoot about having more ribbons. The countess, however, was delighted.

“Of course, my dear, I’ll take you to Dover. I know a wonderful ribbon shop there. And you must buy as many as you wish. Maybe we could even find you a new hat or two. I do think you need some.”

“Oh ma’am, I don’t need more hats. My closet is already full. Just some ribbons, please. And maybe we could drive around Dover a little? I’ve never been here and I’ve heard so much of its fascinations.”

The countess clapped her hands with pleasure. “Of course, Sophie. I long to show you everything. The dock alone is a sight to see. It stretches far into the ocean. And the harbor itself is beautiful. And, oh, I forgot to mention Dover Castle.”

Lars laughed. “If you do all that you’ll never have time to buy ribbons. Maybe you should only sightsee. In fact I think I’d like to go along with you ladies.”

The countess beamed. “Wonderful. We’ll buy the ribbons in a hurry and then drive around town. Do you think we should arrange to stay the night in Dover?”

Sophie was growing more alarmed by the minute. Taking in some of the wonders of Dover appealed to her, but she didn’t think the brute with the black beard would be sightseeing. She’d begun to call him Villain Two in her mind. He definitely wasn’t the type to enjoy history. And she didn’t want to endanger the countess’ safety by going to a hotel where they could be easily ambushed. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of Stephen Mallory, who would always be Villain One to her.

“Oh can we shop first and then sightsee for a bit? I don’t seem to have the wits to take in too much information at once, and I’ll want to know all about something like the Castle.”

Lars had been watching her with narrowed eyes. She knew well she hadn’t fooled him. She kept quiet, giving him a chance to speak.

“I think Sophie is right. We should do the sightseeing by stages, one day at a time. I confess I love my own bed when I have a chance to be in it.”

He spoke lightly, but Sophie stared at him and they both blushed. Both knew what they’d like to do in that bed. Sophie had seen the master suite when she had first arrived, and knew the luxurious bed would be a heavenly place for lovers. Her thoughts flushed her a deeper pink as she lowered her eyes.

Lars grimaced and rose to leave. “I’ll see you both early in the morning. I’m going to go to the stables. One of the mares is about to foal. Don’t wait up for me.”

His terse voice would have frozen a lesser heart than Sophie’s. Instead, she excused herself, pleading unusual fatigue.

If Lars thought he could escape her by running to the stables she intended to follow him. His determined and hurried exit gave her hope. Maybe he’d had the same thoughts about that enticing bed.

* * * * *

Sophie dismissed Betsey and read in her room for a long while, although she soon realized she wasn’t absorbing a word, too anxious to hear Lars enter the house and walk past her door to his room. As the sky outside darkened, she went to the window. Lights were burning in the stables. Stars and a silvery quarter moon gleamed in the still night. The curtains blew gently in a soft breeze and the sweet night air should have brought her peace, but her whole concentration centered on Lars. He must still be in the stables, although she found that strange.

She thought the countess was long asleep.

She brushed her hair until it flowed in a golden cloud down her back, and tucked a shawl around her shoulders as she watched shadows drift over the crescent moon. She inhaled deeply of the sweet night air. It was time to go find Lars.

* * * * *

He was indeed in the stables, but not a Lars she’d ever seen. He wore a rubber apron covering most of him, and his gloved hands were smeared with blood. He was kneeling by a mare who lay supine in the straw, her body twitching in deep spasms.

He looked up, saw her and frowned.

“This is no place for any woman. Go to bed, Sophia. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Sophia? Evidently she truly was not wanted.

“Can I help in anyway?”

He didn’t even look up this time. “She can’t deliver. I’ll have to try to pull out the foal. It won’t be pretty. Please go at once, Sophia.”

Sophie had ridden when she was younger and knew how to gentle a horse. She knew most horses disliked being touched around their face. She moved and began to stroke the mare’s shoulders, whispering to her as she sat back on her knees so she could comfortably continue for as long as needed.

Lars looked a little less fierce. “You might be sorry if you insist, Sophie. It will be a bloody business.”

He’d definitely forgiven her if he was calling her Sophie again. So she could stay.

“Mares seldom have trouble delivering,” Lars explained. “When they do the only choice is to go in and get the foal and turn it so it comes out feet first. I wish I’d done it sooner.”

Lars motioned to a groom to station himself beside him, and kneeling behind the mare, thrust his arms in the birth canal, frowning in concentration. Soon his face lightened and Sophie guessed he’d grabbed a small head. His shoulder muscles strained as he pushed with determination, seemingly using his strength to turn the little body around in the mare’s birth canal. After a while he started pulling, and Sophie knew that he’d succeeded. Very shortly the small foal arrived, and Lars held it for a while until it steadied. Then he set it on its long wobbly legs, grinning widely as he did so.

The stable hand moved quickly and took Lars’ place for a few minutes, until it was obvious the foal could stand by himself, shaking himself to get free of the strange hands that were wiping him down. They all watched with pleasure as his trembling legs managed to hold him upright, and the mare lifted her head and let out a long sigh.

Lars moved a little so he could pat her flanks. “You did well, Firefly. Very well. You’ve got a fine son.”

The mare, who’d only twitched and groaned occasionally during her ordeal, flicked her eyes and then shut them for a much-needed nap.

“She’ll be on her feet before you know it, Sophie.” His triumphant grin far eclipsed his bloody state. His apron, his gloved hands and his arms were covered with blood. Sophie fought down a wave of nausea and managed a smile.

“Lars, you were magnificent. As always.”

Lars’ eyes blazed before he resumed his touch-me-not look. Or rather, his look that declared he’d not touch
her
.

“I definitely have a lot of cleaning up to do. Thank you for coming, Sophie. I’m sure having another female here helped Firefly.” He stripped off his gloves and apron and threw them on the straw. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll shower here in the barn and then stay awhile with Firefly. I’ll see you in the morning.”

His tone was definitely warmer and more like the old Lars. Had she passed some kind of test she didn’t even know about? She spoke with a bit of hesitation. This man could rattle her whatever mood he was in.

“Lars, would you like to postpone our shopping trip? It wouldn’t matter to me.”

“No, I don’t need as much sleep as most people. Elves don’t, you know. But you, my dear, perhaps you should consider sleeping in tomorrow.”

“Am I really still your ‘dear’?” She didn’t try to keep the wistfulness from her voice.

His eyes danced a little and he moved closer so he could speak to her privately. The stable hand had gone to fetch fresh water for the mare, but still he was careful of her reputation.

“Don’t try to trap me, love. You know you are and always will be my very dear. All you have to do is consent to marry me and I’ll take you to bed and give you proof of how much you mean to me.”

Sophie looked at him, wanting him so badly she quivered. How she craved his strong arms, which had always helped and protected her. As she hesitated his glance turned hot, and she knew he recognized her desire. Sophie fought to keep from rushing to him, bloody as he was. He took one step toward her, but stopped with a dismissive gesture toward his filthy state.

Sophie shook her head, twining a lock of her hair around her finger as tears blurred her eyes.

“It’s not that. I don’t care about your condition, not a bit. But I can’t do what you want.”

His face instantly turned stony. He stepped back and turned away.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

His voice was bereft of feeling, almost bitterly neutral.

Sophia walked slowly to the house, under a night sky now as clouded as her heart. She dashed to her room, hoping she’d meet no one. She was not going to let anyone see her cry.

Had she weakened his ridiculous scruples at all?

She doubted she’d made even a dent.

* * * * *

The next day shone with the beauty of southern England at its best. The clouds of the night had disappeared sometime while Sophie alternately dozed and wept. Morning found her determined to follow her plan. Locate Stephen Mallory and see him convicted for the murder of her father. Or kill him herself, if she found the right opportunity. She wouldn’t be at all averse to putting an end to the murdering villain who’d sold her to slavery. But first she must find him. Someplace other than the Mathematical Society’s meetings where she was positive he was lording over them all with equations that were not his own. She wanted to meet him privately and eliminate him.

Today she planned to sniff out the black-bearded sailor he’d sent to kill her. Villain Two would certainly have a good idea of his master’s whereabouts.

She thought at length about what to wear. If Lars was along, she must be discreet. She dressed carefully but let her hair flow down her back. If Smythe were looking for her at all he’d notice that. But she didn’t want a hat. She carried one with her, and when the countess met her in the hall as she waited for both son and mother, the older lady momentarily looked astonished.