Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (30 page)

"You do not have to fight for me," she informed him. "We are husband and wife, you have already won me. So why do this to yourself?"

He looked for all the world as though he would rather face Charles again than answer her question.

He raked a hand through his already messy hair and turned away from her. "I spent much of my life doing what I was told I
had
to do. I will not allow anyone to control me again."

"And that includes me." It was a statement, not a question.

He turned, an expression on his face that was both determined yet regretful. "Yes."

It didn't really hurt to hear him say it. She didn't want to control him. She couldn't respect a man who would allow her to walk all over him. What woman could?

"I will not allow you to control me either." Holding her breath, she waited for his reaction. Edmund would have laughed, because he would have known, just as she did, that she was in no position to make such demands.

Not so, Julian. "I do not want to."

Her sigh of relief was almost audible.

"But I do intend to possess you, Sophia. Body, heart and soul. Make no mistake about that."

A wave of heat rippled across her flesh, blossoming into flame in the deepest, darkest recesses of her body. Had it been any other man saying such things to her, Sophia would have been terrified. Angry. Defensive. But not with Julian. She wanted to be his.

"Would you offer the same in return, Julian?" she asked softly. "Do you offer me your body, heart and soul?"

He was unflinching. "You only have to want them."

Something that tasted very much like fear rose up in Sophia's throat. This didn't seem possible. It was too much.

It wasn't enough.

Hands folded in front of her, she rose to her feet, moving toward him with carefully measured steps. "What of your trust? Do I have that too?"

Golden brown eyes flickered over her face. "With my life."

If he had struck her as he had struck Charles she wouldn't have been less shocked.

He took a step toward her. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his poor battered face. Even bruised and swollen he was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes on.

"Do I have your trust, Sophia? Would you put your life in my hands?"

Hadn't she done that several times already?

She moved her hands behind her back. "You promised me you would not fight Charles. I believed you." It certainly wasn't a yes, but it wasn't quite a no, either.

He took another step. They were touching now. His torso pressed softly against her breasts. She could push him away if she wanted. One shove and he would give her room to breathe without inhaling his scent. Room to feel without feeling him all around her, making her want to say things safer left unsaid.

"You lied to me, Sophia." He traced the tip of one finger along the side of her cheek.

"I most certainly did not," she replied with as much hauteur as she could muster.

He was insistent. "You did." His finger slid down to brush the sensitive flesh just above the neckline of her gown. "You told me you did not think you were capable of love."

He was toying with her. She could see it in his eyes. To what purpose, she did not know, but she knew that she did not like this side of him. It made her uncertain, anxious— itchy deep inside.

"Julian, this is ridiculous— "

"You love me."

The softly spoken pronouncement rang in Sophia's ears. Her head swam like a fish through reeds. Her skin flushed hot and cold at the same time.

How could he know? She did love him. She loved him but she couldn't tell him— not until she knew how he felt about her. She just couldn't.

"You are very sure of yourself," she croaked, hoping she sounded more lighthearted than she felt.

"I wish I were," he replied, seeming to gaze deep inside her. "Perhaps then I would be able to ascertain just how I managed to win your heart so that I might continue winning it, but I think you are the better equipped to answer than I."

She backed away from him. "I do not know what you are talking about." Could he hear the panic in her voice? "It is impossible. People do not fall in love so quickly, especially not when those people are you and I, Julian."

He followed her. "I could argue you that point, but I suspect it is just a clever ruse on your part to avoid telling me you love me again."

Stopping, she held her ground. She would not run from him. "I've yet to say it once, let alone again."

Shaking his head, his lips curved ever so slightly, smugly. "You did not have to say it. Only a woman in love could be so angry that her man broke such a trifling promise to her. Only a woman in love would stand in front of a man and deny her love without actually denying it."

She would argue his logic if she had words to do so.

And if he wasn't right.

"Say you love me, Sophia," he whispered, reaching for her. "Tell me."

Shaking her head, she eluded his embrace. "I cannot." She didn't know why, but she just couldn't. She would not say it only to have silence meet her in return. Or worse, say it and have him kiss her as though he loved her without actually saying the words. That's what he had done the first time and she had believed he returned her feelings. She could not afford to be so foolish now, not when she feared her feelings for him seven years ago had been nothing more than an infatuation compared to how she felt about him now.

He reached for her again, his brow creased with concern. "Sophia— "

"I need to be alone," she hedged, scurrying toward the door. "Please, just let me go."

And he did.

"A
m I doing this right?"

Julian's only reply was a soft grunt. He didn't dare do anything else— not when Sophia held a razor to his throat.

It had seemed like the perfect way to show her he trusted her, but now, with his head tilted back and her hand heavier than it should be, Julian wondered if perhaps he might have found a better way.

"Not quite so hard," he murmured, hoping this wouldn't be the last shave of his life. "That's it. Stroke upward."

They were in his bedroom, each still in their dressing gowns. Julian sat near the hearth listening to the heavy pat of rain against the windows, the hissing of the fire when an occasional drop managed to slip down the chimney, and the scratching of the razor as Sophia removed a full day's worth of whiskers from his face.

"I cannot imagine having to do this every day," she remarked, rinsing the blade in the basin of hot water at her elbow.

"Sometimes I am lazy and allow my valet to do it." He tilted his head so she could scrape the razor down his cheek. Her hand was lighter as it skimmed over the bruises Aberley had left behind.

Another stroke. She was definitely getting better at this. "It seems an awful inconvenience."

He shrugged as she rinsed the blade again. "I would rather shave every day than bleed five days out of the month."

Her hand stilled. The flush that flooded Sophia's face was so bright Julian was tempted to shield his eyes from the glow. He waited until she lowered the blade again to speak. "What? Did you think me ignorant of such things?"

Sophia shrugged, her cheeks still red.

He shook his head. "I declare, Sophia, you are a mystery to me. You think nothing of speaking your mind to me but when I bring up a natural function of your body you turn all
missish
on me. Why is that?"

"I do not know," she replied, flicking the razor along his upper lip and chin. "I suppose it is because Edmund was very frank about wanting to use my body, but only when it was clean, and usually in the dark."

Wiping the remaining lather from his face with a towel, Julian watched her curiously as she cleaned the razor one final time.

"Clean," he said. "That is an odd way to put it."

She turned toward him, her color still quite high. "That is how he phrased it."

Lovely man, the former marquess. Julian sincerely hoped he was burning in hell at that moment.

Tossing the towel aside, Julian rose from the chair. "Well, he was wrong. When are you next due?"

If possible, she flushed even darker. "Not for some time. I…I do not have a normal cycle— at least not normal compared to other women I have known."

He waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, he asked, "What is it?"

Sophia set the razor aside and clasped her hands in front of her. "It only comes once every other month."

She made it sound so terrible. Julian smiled. "I think most women would agree that you are fortunate."

Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. "The doctor said it would make it very difficult for me to conceive a child."

Tilting his head, Julian shrugged one shoulder. "I am not in any hurry to become a father."

"Edmund used to say that it was a good thing that he could not sire children, otherwise I would have nothing but my looks to recommend me as a wife." There was just the slightest tremble to her chin as she spoke.

"Edmund is dead," he bit out, his jaw tight. "Blessedly so, the bloody bastard."

Moving around to the back of the chair, Julian laid his hands on Sophia's shoulders. "Sophia." He waited until she lifted her gaze to his to continue, "I have already raised two sisters and I did not do a very good job at that. If God decides to give us a child, then we will have a child. If we do not, then we do not."

"You are not a normal man," she whispered, something very much like awe in her voice.

Julian laughed. "Perhaps not. But even seven years ago I knew that I wanted you for how you made me feel, not for the heir you might produce."

He knew even before her eyes widened that he had revealed too much, damn it.

"If you wanted me then, why did you not marry me?"

He should have known he could not conceal the truth from her forever. He should have known that one day he would have to tell her that he had truly cared for her— that he had been a coward.

Releasing her, he turned away. He didn't want to see the look on her face when he told her the truth.

"I thought I could do whatever I wanted, live my life the way I wanted, without there being any consequences," he replied. "I had thought to propose to you, and then when your father found us so conveniently, and you did not seem surprised to see him at all, I thought you were trying to trick me."

There was silence behind him. Unable to bear it any longer, he turned. Sophia watched him with a guarded expression.

He plunged on. "I had spent my entire life doing what other people told me was right. And when your father told me I had to marry you…well, that was the last straw. I told myself you had tried to trap me, and when you married Aberley, it was very easy to hide my hurt by congratulating myself on escaping the clutches of a fortune hunter. I convinced myself you did not care for me. I know now that I was wrong. And I am sorry."

And there it was. Told in such a condensed manner, it made considerably less sense than it had seven years ago. He waited for her reaction to his confession. He could have prevented her marriage to Edmund Morelle. He could have spared her all that she had suffered with the bastard, and the only reason he hadn't was because of his own childishness.

"Thank you."

Those two little words, so quietly and meaningfully spoken were
not
what he had expected.

"I have a confession to make as well."

Something in her voice made his gaze narrow as it snapped to hers. She looked every bit as uncertain as he had felt just a few moments ago.

"I did try to trap you."

Julian's jaw dropped at the same time as his stomach. "What?"

Her fingers knotting together before her, Sophia took a hesitant step toward him. "I wanted my father to find us— perhaps not in that particular state of undress, but I hoped that his discovering us would induce you to propose. It was underhanded of me, I know, and I am sorry for it— more so because it did not work out as I had planned. I wanted to marry you, and not for your fortune or your title as you came to believe."

Julian couldn't believe it. It should give him some sense of vindication, some sense of satisfaction that he had been right. It should make him angry that she had purposefully tried to trap him, but it didn't. Instead, it confused him. Why would she go to such lengths just to have him?

It hurt as well. There was a dull ache in his chest, very near his heart, because even though he knew they both had a lot of growing up to do at the time, Sophia could have been his wife these last seven years if they had only been a bit more honest and trusting with each other.

"Why?" he demanded when he at last found his voice. "What did I ever do to make you want me?"

She smiled a tad regretfully. "You made me feel lovable."

Her words deepened the ache in his chest. "You made me feel like a man."

"In my eyes you were a man. The man I adored."

They stood there a moment, just staring at each other. The tightness in Julian's chest was acute now. It was hard to breathe, so great were his regrets, so overwhelming were his feelings. Why had it taken them so long to come to this? Why did it feel as though his very soul depended on having her forgiveness, on having her give herself to him, and allowing him to show her just how much he was beginning to love her?

One second he was staring into the endless depths of Sophia's eyes and the next she was in his arms, her mouth warm, wet and open beneath his.

His arms locked around her waist, Julian lifted her and carried her to the bed, taking care not to break their kiss. Bracing one arm and one knee on the mattress, he gently lowered her onto the coverlet.

Raising his head, he watched her face as he fumbled with the closures on her dressing gown with his left hand. He pushed the robe open, baring her body to his eyes.

She was so damned beautiful to look at. Sophia would be the first to point out all the flaws with her body, but Julian could not see them. If she called her breasts big and heavy, he called them full and ripe. If she said her belly was too big, he said it was soft and gently rounded. While it was true that he had known women who were possibly more aesthetically perfect, he had never seen a body more beautiful than Sophia's.