Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (20 page)

Sophia trembled with rage. "The arrogance!"

Lady Wickford looked up. "Is it from Wolfram?"

Normally, her friend's wry remark would have coaxed a chuckle from Sophia, but not at this moment.

"It is from Charles. Apparently there is still time for me to come to my senses and become his mistress."

Lady W's round face lost all of its usual good humor. "I sorely wish that man would go to perdition where he belongs and leave you alone."

Shrugging, Sophia tossed the letter into the low fire burning in the hearth. "He will eventually realize that I will never be his." As dismal as her prospects seemed, she would never give in. Never.

"For some men, that realization is a long time coming, my dear." Lady W's voice had the heavy certainty of someone who knew firsthand.

Sophia smiled at her friend. "I can resist the Marquess of Aberley for the rest of my life if necessary."

"What about Wolfram?" the older woman asked with as sly smile. "Can you resist him as well?"

"That is a moot question. One cannot resist what is not there to pose a temptation." But last night! Last night Julian Rexley had been temptation personified.

As if on cue, there was another knock at the door and the housekeeper entered again. "The Earl Wolfram is here, my lady Wickford."

Stunned, Sophia stared at Lady W.

The older woman shot Sophia a triumphant glance. "Send him in, Mrs. Long."

"Did you plan this?" Sophia hissed once they were alone again.

Lady Wickford was all innocence. "My dear, you know me better than that. I may have urged Wolfram to bring you to London, but I would never dream of interfering in such a manner." Her smile grew. "No, the boy is here of his own accord."

Her heart pounding embarrassingly fast, Sophia curled her hands into fists. Her nails bit into her palms as she tried to keep her breathing from becoming too shallow and erratic.

Julian. He was here. He came.

She barely had time to wrap her mind around the realization before he walked into the room. Surrounded by the delicate furnishings of Lady W's parlor he was breathtakingly masculine and undeniably the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on.

He was dressed in snug buff breeches that hugged the long, athletic lines of his legs, black boots, a biscuit-colored waistcoat and a coat of dark brown superfine that pulled smoothly across the breadth of his shoulders. In this light his hair was a deep, rich brown with just a hint of auburn and his eyes were a clear, pale sherry.

They bore into her as though trying to read her very soul.

"Wolfram!" Lady Wickford cried, rising to her feet. "What a pleasure to see you!"

He said something about the pleasure being all his as Lady W engulfed him in a warm embrace.

Sophia also stood, despite the fact that her knees threatened to dump her to the floor at any minute.

He had no right to affect her as he did. No right at all. The fluttering in her stomach was nothing compared to the absolute joy in her breast. And neither were brought about by fear. They were because of this strange attachment she felt for him.

Had he spent the night reliving their kiss as she had? Had he spent the early dawn hours trying to figure out just what this attraction between them meant? It was overpowering and dangerous. It made her forget everything else— such as the fact that Julian Rexley was as deserving of her trust as a snake. That he was a man determined to have the world play by his rules.

Her gaze locked with his, Sophia spied Lady Wickford out of the corner of her eye. The older woman was watching the pair of them with great interest.

"Well," the older woman said after a moment of pregnant silence. "I suppose the two of you have much to discuss. I shall leave you to it."

Sophia watched her friend for as long as she could, until the door closed softly behind her, leaving only Sophia and Julian in the room. Alone.

Slowly, she turned to face him, meeting his suffering gaze with an expression that she hoped was much, much blander than she felt.

"I will get right to the point," he said quickly. "I have come to ask you to marry me."

She could not have been more surprised if he had told her he was dying. Blindly, Sophia's hand reached out for something to support her as the ground shifted beneath her. Unfortunately, Julian was the closest thing to latch onto. Her fingers grabbed the left lapel of his coat and clung to it with every last ounce of strength she possessed.

"Why?" she demanded, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

He looked at her as though he thought the answer should be obvious. "It would certainly remedy your current situation, would it not?"

Or put her in the middle of an even worse one, depending on the bridegroom. But Julian hadn't suggested marriage in general. He had offered himself as her husband. Why?

She frowned. "Marriage might prove to be a 'remedy' as you put it, but why are
you
asking me?"

He thought for a moment. "Because you will be able to continue living the kind of life you were born into."

No more smokey fires and creaking floors. But she had gotten used to creaking floors. She didn't need opulence and riches anymore. Besides, Julian wasn't asking her out of some misplaced sense of charity. He thought too much of his own freedom to do that. "Not good enough. Give me a reason, Julian. A real one."

He regarded her strangely, and for a split second Sophia was terrified he could see into her soul and know that she didn't want to hear why she should marry him. She wanted to know why he wanted to marry her.

"Is this a good enough reason?" he asked, lowering his head.

Closing her eyes, Sophia sighed as his lips touched hers. Soft and warm, yet firm and unyielding, his mouth claimed her. Her fingers tightened on his lapel, pulling him closer as her other hand slid up the solid wall of his chest and higher, to tangle in the thick waves of his hair.

She opened her mouth to him as his arms closed around her, hauling her flush against him, lifting her up onto her toes. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting her as she tasted him. He tasted of heat and salt with the faintest touch of brandy.

His torso was warm and firm against the softness of her breasts, his pelvis pushed against her stomach, the evidence of his arousal becoming more and more apparent as their kiss continued.

Moaning softly, Sophia shivered and pressed closer, running the ridge of her tongue along his. Not even Edmund, who had known her body more intimately than she, had been able to elicit this kind of fevered response from her. Her body thrummed with sensual awareness. Her flesh craved touch— so much so that her clothes felt restrictive and abrasive against her skin. She burned all over from a volcano of desire that simmered low and deep within her.

Oh yes, this was a very good reason for the two of them to marry.

But would it last? And what price would come attached to it?

Opening the fingers holding his jacket, Sophia placed her palm against his chest and pushed, stepping back as she did so. The kiss was broken, even though Julian did not immediately release her.

"That was lovely," she told him, her voice hoarse with desire. "But even that is not enough for me to marry you. Tell me the truth, Julian. Please."

Tilting his head to one side, his gaze roamed over her entire face, from her tingling lips, up her burning cheeks, to finally stare her straight in the eye.

"Because this does not affect just you and me anymore. Someone else stands to be hurt by my actions and it is time I took responsibility for them."

"Letitia," she said softly, knowing his sister was the only person he would make such a sacrifice for. The knowledge hurt.

"The gentleman who found us last night was one of the young men interested in marrying Letitia. He has withdrawn his suit because of my treatment of you."

Sophia's eyes widened. "Your treatment of me?" If anything she thought it might be his association with her— the fact that she was viewed to have such loose morals.

"You are not the only one with a blackened reputation, Sophia," he told her with a faint smile. "My refusal to marry you was a mark against me as well. Patterson viewed last night's…indiscretion as just one more example of how little respect I have for your reputation. In a way he was right."

It was all so hard for Sophia to absorb. "R…right?"

He brushed his lips across her forehead, down to her temple. It was so soft, so light a caress, that Sophia's breath halted with it. It was as if he couldn't help himself.

"I have very little control where you are concerned, Sophia." His breath was warm against her cheek. "All I can think about is you and how much I want you."

Heart hammering, thighs trembling, Sophia raised her gaze to his as he lifted his head. She knew exactly what he meant. It might not be much to build a marriage on, but he was right about their actions reflecting upon Letitia. She would rather die than hurt the young woman who had become much like a sister to her. Letitia might like the idea of her suitors ceasing to court her, but what if Mr. Wesley or his family decided the better of such connections? What if Sophia's reputation began to tarnish Letitia's? She would never forgive herself.

"My husband tried to mold me into his idea of the perfect wife." It was humiliating to even admit that much of her marriage to Edmund to him. "I do not want to go through that again. I will not."

One of the hands on her back lifted to come around and cup her cheek. His thumb stroked the expanse of cheek just below her eye. "I want you as you are, not as you could be."

Sophia's stomach clenched. He wanted her? And not just sexually, but as a person? As a wife?

"Neither of us is perfect," he continued, "but we will be going into this marriage with a lot more than some
ton
marriages have. I will be a good husband to you. I promise to respect you and give you the trust you deserve. All I ask is that you offer me the same."

Silence permeated the room as they stared into each other's eyes. "Please, Sophia. You and I will never outrun our past if we do not do this. Please do not make my sister pay for my mistakes."

It was the
please
that was her undoing. That softly spoken plea helped Sophia find her voice. It came from deep within her, from her heart and soul, from the very tips of her toes. It was the voice of that girl who had taken one look at Julian Rexley and knew that she had never wanted anything as much as she wanted him.

"Yes."

S
he was early.

"Lord Wolfram is in the ballroom, Lady Aberley," Fielding informed her as she stepped inside the foyer. "Shall I announce you?"

Sophia smiled. "That will not be necessary, Fielding, thank you." Was Julian alone in the ballroom? Was he making plans for their wedding?

Fielding returned the smile. There was a twinkle in his eyes that puzzled Sophia. It was as though there was some kind of private joke between them, one that Sophia wasn't aware of.

"As you wish, my lady," he replied with a bow. "And might I say that it is lovely to have you at Wolfram House again."

Whether the butler was being honest or simply polite, Sophia didn't know, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.

Thanking Fielding, she strolled into the great hall, across the gleaming tiled floor to the hallway that led toward the back of the house, slipping her moist hands out of her gloves as she went.

She still couldn't quite believe that Julian had proposed, or that she had said yes. She had meant to refuse him, but how could she when faced with the prospect of hurting Letitia? And a part of her wanted to marry him. She could admit that, if only to herself.

And now she wondered if she had made the right decision, because it seemed that every decision she made that concerned Julian was the wrong one. That was why she was an hour early for dinner, and why she was dressed in a new gown of dark plum silk that warmed her skin and enhanced her figure. She needed to see Julian. Needed to see for herself if he was having second thoughts.

And she needed to see Letitia. She hadn't seen her friend since Julian proposed two days earlier. She'd received a lovely note but no visit, and that hurt more than she was willing to admit. Did her friend disapprove of Sophia marrying her brother?

One of the pairs of French doors leading into the ballroom was partially open. Slightly breathless voices drifted wordlessly into the corridor. One of them Sophia recognized as Julian's. The other she didn't recognize. A loud grunt followed the sound of something being struck.

Wide-eyed, Sophia slowly pushed the door open even further. She peered inside.

A large, square, roped-off ring sat in the middle of the ballroom floor. It was startlingly out of place amongst the Italian marble tiles and delicate plasterwork.

Light from the sinking sun poured in through the many windows lining the walls, bathing the room and the men in the middle of the ring in a golden-pink hue. The men were naked from the waist up, their skin aglow with sweat, circling each other with their fists raised.

One of the men was of average height and heavily built, with a thick chest, big arms and wide shoulders. His head was as smooth and bald as a pebble on a beach, but his chest, back and arms were covered in so much hair it almost looked like fur.

Her gaze went to the other man. To Julian. Dear heaven.

While not as thickly built as his opponent— nor as hairy— Julian Rexley was still a sight to behold. His long, muscular arms lashed out with lightning-fast accuracy. Muscles rippled beneath the smooth golden skin of his back as he dodged the meaty fists of his adversary.

Slipping into the room, Sophia inched closer, her gaze fastened on Julian's chest and the reddish brown hair that tapered down the flat plain of his stomach and disappeared beneath the waist of his trousers.