Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (14 page)

"What then?" He lifted her hand. Palm down, fingers toward him, it trembled ever so slightly as he held it. "What were you going to do?"

His hand dropped leaving her own hovering between them. Would she demand he give her back her glove, or would she give in to temptation and touch him as he instinctively knew she longed to?

"I was going to touch your hair," she confessed, lifting her shaky fingers to his temple.

"You always liked it more than I," he murmured, scarcely daring to breathe as the tips of her fingers brushed his skin.

She leaned closer. "It is beautiful. I never understood why you did not like it."

He went perfectly still, his nostrils flaring with a sharply indrawn breath. He did not try to stop her. He simply held her gaze and waited. She hesitated for only a second.

Julian's eyes closed in sensual pleasure as Sophia's fingers plunged into his hair. He pressed his head against her hand and rubbed like a cat seeking affection. No doubt his hair was a mess, but he didn't care. Her touch felt good— so good his heart ached.

She raked her fingers through the strands, rubbed his scalp with the pads of her fingers. She touched him as though she was in awe of him. How could he not react to that?

His eyes opened in silent inquiry as her hand left his hair. She was staring at him so intently, so hotly that his prick hardened to full erection almost instantly.

"I think this is my favorite, however," she murmured, trailing the tip of her index finger along his upper lip. She used the whole pad for his lower. "I used to think a mouth like this was wasted on a man, but then you kissed me and I knew it was not a waste at all."

He stopped breathing. Could she feel it?

She must have, because her fingers froze in mid-stroke and fell away from his lips. She looked horrified.

"What must you think of me?" The anguished whisper cracked through the heart he thought he had hardened against her.

Julian drew a deep breath. "I think you are the most dangerous woman I have ever known," he replied, his voice low and scratchy in his own ears. "What I want to know is," he continued as her hesitant gaze met his, "what do you think of my mouth now?"

Slowly, Sophia leaned forward, inching closer until he could feel her breath against his face. Her eyelids fluttered closed and then her lips met his…

Something shattered within Julian's chest. It felt as though something he had imprisoned within himself had broken free of its shackles and rose up joyously, spreading itself through every nerve and fiber of his being. In all the things he had done over the years, nothing had ever felt so right as kissing Sophia.

And he let
her
kiss him. He didn't raise his hands to hold her or try to take over the kiss by increasing the pressure of his lips against hers. He allowed her complete control. Did she know that by doing so he was also offering her his trust?

Sophia reveled in this incredible feeling. She tasted Julian, probed his lips with her tongue and gasped in delight when he opened his mouth, letting her inside. Still he let her control the kiss, meeting the thrust of her tongue with his, but always allowing her to set the rhythm.

He wanted her. She knew that as certainly as she knew the sun was going to rise in the morning. His body hummed with the tension of restraint. He wanted to take control. He wanted to press himself upon her, touch her and make love to her.

She wasn't ready for that. She couldn't let herself go so completely. She couldn't risk the scandal and she couldn't risk giving him her heart a second time. He knew that. He was asking her to trust him, and by letting her control this kiss, he was proving she could.

The carriage stumbled to a stop, breaking the kiss before Sophia could do so herself. Her eyes flew open. Julian was watching her.

"We are home." His voice was hoarse with undisguised arousal.

"Yes," was all she could think of to say.

Jerkily, she tore her gaze away from his and began collecting her belongings. He handed her her glove and she quickly shoved her fingers into it as the carriage door opened and a footman lowered the stairs.

They entered the house together, Julian holding his hat and gloves in front of him in such a manner that Sophia knew without a doubt his reason for doing so. Their kiss had aroused him as it had her, only her desire was a low, throbbing ache hidden deep within her, while his was a bit more physically obvious.

It was late. Most of the staff, including Fielding, were already in bed, so there was no one to take their hats and cloaks— fortunate for both of them. Sophia would be mortified if any of the servants figured out what she and Julian had been up to in the carriage.

They walked up the stairs together, side by side, each of them looking straight ahead, saying nothing, and yet the air between them positively rang with vows and confessions better left unsaid.

It was dark in the corridor, only one wall sconce illuminating the section between her room and his. No one would know if she invited him inside. No one would know if they spent the entire night in bed together. No one but her. And him.

"Good night," he said, those wolflike eyes boring into hers.

Smiling shakily, Sophia didn't know whether to kiss him or cry. He was making the decision for her.

"Good night, Julian."

Turning the knob, she slipped into the warmly lit haven of her chamber. He was still watching her as she closed the door.

O
nly a dead man could possibly sleep after a kiss like that.

Turning away from Sophia's bedroom door took every ounce of strength Julian possessed, and not just because the urge to claim her body with his own was stronger than the need to breathe.

The second the door closed between them he became aware of just how utterly alone he was. The house seemed more quiet, larger and more cavernous. The light in the corridor seemed dimmer and less inviting because Sophia wasn't there with him. Suddenly it was very clear to him just why he felt like an outsider around his friends, why he coveted their happy marriages.

He was lonely. And it had taken Sophia, a woman who had no right to affect him as she did, to show him just how empty his life was. The desire he felt for her body was nothing compared to how he craved her company.

Wouldn't she have a good laugh at that if she knew? As he walked down the dark hall to the stairs he wondered if she had any idea of the effect she had on him.

For that matter, did he?

Perhaps he would feel this way about any woman who paid attention to him. Another part insisted that Sophia filled a hole in his life. She had a way of making him feel special that no one else had ever come close to duplicating.

She also had made him feel like a pathetic fool, he reminded himself. He could not just forget that, regardless of how sweet her touch was or how incredibly
right
her mouth had felt against his.

Two lamps burned in the great hall— one on the wall between the stairs and the foyer door and one on a small table toward the back corridor. He took the one on the table and used it to light his way to his study.

He didn't bother to close the door. It was so late no one would bother him, and even if they did the interruption wouldn't be unwelcome. At this point anything that could turn his thoughts away from Sophia would be welcome.

An Unfortunate Attachment
sat on his desk, its cover staring at him accusingly. He was almost finished reading it, but the scene where he— Lord Foxton— ruins the heroine was just a few pages ahead and he couldn't quite bring himself to go on.

Nowhere in her writing did she say anything about trying to trap him. Her heroine, Jocelyn, was blindly infatuated with the vain, arrogant and somewhat dandyish Lord Foxton, and was convinced that he returned her feelings.

Was that how Sophia had actually seen him? As arrogant and vain? Lord, back then nothing could have been further from the truth. Perhaps he had been a little arrogant— most men of his class were— but vain? No. His looks had been the bane of his existence. The only thing he had been the least bit vain about was his ability to write, and looking back, that had been nothing to get puffed up about.

The way Sophia described herself contradicted his own assessment of the kind of person she had been. She described herself as being unsure of herself, wondering if anyone saw her for who she really was. Jocelyn was a social creature, treated like a doll by her parents, but who only wanted someone to love her for who she was.

Julian thought he had done that, but he automatically had thought the worst of her when her father burst in on them. He had thought she wanted only to trap him.

No. That wasn't true. He hadn't thought that until her engagement to Aberley was announced a week later.

The truth was he had believed himself in control of their affair. He had thought they could carry on as they had been and then he could decide when they would marry. After her father caught them in the library, Julian had watched as what little control he had over his life was snatched away. Sophia's father had tried to force him to marry her, just as fate had robbed him of his parents and Miranda and forced him to take over the earldom and all it entailed. He was tired of having his life controlled by other forces. He had dug in his heels and lashed out.

And when Sophia married Aberley he covered up his hurt by telling himself she had only been after a title and a fortune. Perhaps she had been, but that didn't change the fact that he had behaved deplorably. Nor did it change the fact that he had publicly humiliated her by refusing to marry her. No matter what her sins might have been, he had been older and he had been the one with the power. He should have known better.

He was more like Lord Foxton than he cared to admit.

"Julian?" Letitia's soft voice floated from the doorway. "Are you all right?"

Looking up, Julian forced a smile for his sister's benefit. "I am fine. You are home very late. Did you have a good time?"

Letitia looked much younger than her four and twenty years as she glided into the room. He could remember seeing the same expression on Miranda's face often enough as well, but that was before. Before she became pregnant by one of their stable hands and took her own life when the bastard refused to marry her.

He had made many mistakes where Miranda had been concerned. He would not do the same with Letitia. He would see her happily and properly married if it was the last thing he did.

"…danced with Lord Regley and then Victoria Melbourne fainted when Sir Walter Trundel appeared with Lady Jane Sedgway."

Shaking his head, Julian frowned at his sister, who was now seated across the desk from him. What was she talking about? Oh yes, the party she had attended that evening.

"Was Miss Melbourne ill?"

Letitia rolled her eyes. "No. Really, Julian, do you not pay any attention to gossip?"

"Not if I can help it, no." It was his experience that people who listened to gossip eventually heard something about themselves.

His sister was all too happy to enlighten him. "Victoria Melbourne has been after Sir Walter for months. Everyone knows that she has made a complete cake of herself over the man— not that he ever did anything to encourage her."

"Not that you know of," Julian remarked.

Letitia scowled. "Well, everyone knows only a fool pursues a man who has not made his intentions known."

Julian couldn't stop the words that came out of his mouth. "Your friend Lady Aberley pursued me. Would you judge her so harshly?"

His sister colored in the dim lamplight. "It is hardly the same thing."

Julian shrugged. He couldn't believe he was discussing this with his baby sister! "You have no idea what kinds of promises Sir Walter might have made Miss Melbourne in the heat of passion."

Letitia's eyes widened as her mouth fell open in shock.

After a few moments of silence, Julian cleared his throat. "So, did any of the gentlemen there catch your eye?"

Letitia smiled faintly. "Well, I did dance twice with Mr. Wesley."

His brow creasing, Julian searched his memory for a face to go with the name. "Penderthal's heir?"

Letitia nodded, a hopeful expression on her face.

Julian shook his head. Wesley was a friendly young man due to inherit a fine title, but he wouldn't do. "Better not encourage his intentions, Lettie. His father was a gamester and a notorious libertine. Mr. Wesley might very well prove to be the same."

Letitia paled and Julian was instantly contrite. All this talk of vice had undoubtedly offended her sensibilities. Sometimes he forgot that she was much more delicate than her age would suggest.

"I am glad you had a good time," he said, rising to his feet. "Now why don't we go up to bed, hmm? Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for both of us."

His sister stood and, carrying the lamp, Julian followed her from the room. They didn't speak as they climbed the stairs together. Julian's mind was once again taken over by thoughts of Sophia. He did not concern himself with why Letitia was suddenly so quiet.

Over the course of the next week and a half Julian spent more time with Sophia than he had originally intended. He escorted her and Letitia to various social outings, including a trip to the theater, and on those days when their schedules permitted, he and Sophia would sometimes sit and talk. They avoided talk of the past and any other subjects that might cause either one of them discomfort.

The more he got to know her, the more he came to like her. She was easy to talk to and she seemed sincerely interested in what he had to say. She asked questions, gave her own opinions freely and laughed at his jokes, which pleased him immensely.

In fact, everything about her pleased him. She was frank and honest, and yet she was never malicious— not toward him— but she had no patience for mean or stupid people and she made that abundantly clear.