Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (9 page)

Letitia dismissed her protests with a wave of her hand and a roll of her dark eyes. "I will take care of that. A gift for being such a good friend."

"You most certainly will not!" Sophia snatched her hand away. "I am not a charity case!"

Instead of being contrite, Letitia laughed. "Oh, Sophia, you are so silly! Perhaps you would prefer to have my brother foot the bill? Consider it retribution for his being such a beast to you while he has been under your roof."

Now,
that
was tempting, as underhanded as it was.

She shook her head. "I— "

"Think it over," Letitia insisted, cutting her off. "Please."

Nodding, Sophia agreed, but she knew her answer would be the same in an hour as it was then. There was no way she was going to put herself under that much of Julian's control as to agree to be a guest in his home. Why had he even suggested it? He had some ulterior motive other than just his sister's happiness, of that she was certain.

Heat crept up her cheeks as an idea occurred to her. Surely he didn't think that…No! It was too much, even for him. As rotten as Julian could be, he would never expect her to be his mistress right under his sister's nose!

What other reason could he possibly have for inviting her? He didn't like her any more than she liked him.

Perhaps she should just ask him.

After Letitia left to go dress for breakfast, Sophia scampered out of bed and hurriedly washed and dressed. She was still sticking pins in her hair as she hurried downstairs a little while later. She wore the best day gown she owned, a square-necked, modest dress of dark purple. It was her favorite and was still fairly stylish as she had purchased it just prior to Charles cutting off her funds. She felt pretty and confident when she wore it, and she needed all the confidence she could summon when dealing with Julian.

With her hair secured in a neat chignon, she rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and strolled toward the back of the house. Somehow, she knew where he would be.

He was in her library, sitting in her favorite chair, sipping a cup of coffee.

He looked up at her entrance, and immediately rose to his feet. He was dressed a bit more formally than he had been last night, but his clothing was wrinkled and a day's growth of beard lined his cheeks. He looked the part of a poet now, with his hair mussed and his eyes heavy with fatigue. Obviously he hadn't slept well last night either. Good.

"I had hoped you would come back," he said, his gaze assessing her just as she had assessed him.

She frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

He shook his head. "Never mind. I imagine my sister has already talked with you?"

"Yes," she replied with a nod. "Jul— Lord Wolfram, I— "

"Sit," he interjected, offering her the chair he had just vacated. "Please. It feels awkward to stand when we have so much to discuss."

The fact that he relinquished her favorite chair to her warmed her in ways that were both charming and annoying. Still, she accepted the offer and even passed him his coffee so he didn't have to reach for it from his seat across from her.

"I want to know why you changed your mind about inviting me to London," she blurted when they were both settled.

He took a drink of his coffee and smiled. "I imagine you do, and so I shall tell you. I changed it because Letitia would have made my life miserable if I did not."

Sophia could tell from his expression and the dry tone that he used that he spoke the truth, but there was something more.

"And?" she prodded.

He sighed. "
And
because I hoped that you might be able to help me ensure that my sister makes an attachment by the end of the season."

"Even if I had such sway over your sister I would not use it."

Julian's lips twisted into a mocking smile as he arched a brow. "Especially not for me."

Heat crept up Sophia's cheeks but she did not respond.

"We don't always have to be on opposite sides, Sophia." He said her name like it was a caress and her body reacted as such, tightening and flushing in a most shameful and delicious manner.

Setting his cup aside, he leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees as he regarded her. "Tell me the real reason for your reservations. It is because of what happened last night, is it not?"

"A little," she whispered.

His expression was suddenly serious. "My behavior was inexcusable and I apologize. My only excuse is that I had been drinking."

Oh, so he'd kissed her because his judgment was impaired. How flattering.

"I appreciate your attempts to soothe my fragile feminine sensibilities," she heard herself reply, "but we both know that you kissed me because you wanted to, and I allowed it for the same reason." Dear Lord, what was she doing?

His sherry-colored eyes darkened. "You did."

Swallowing against the sudden dryness in her mouth, Sophia bobbed her head. "I do not claim to understand it, nor do you, I am sure. You do not like me and I most assuredly do not like you, but I cannot deny that I am drawn to you, much like a moth to flame."

She couldn't believe she was saying these things. Apparently, neither could Julian, because he just stared at her with those heavy-lidded eyes of his. He didn't try to deny that he felt the same, however.

"Why is that, do you suppose?"

Sophia smiled. It felt bitter and twisted. "I suppose because like the moth, I am well aware of what will happen if I get too close to your flame."

His lips twitched. Whether it was with humor or regret, Sophia couldn't tell. "I suppose there is something to be said for knowing the consequences. Will my
flame
keep you from coming to London?"

He mocked her and yet it did not sting as she expected. It didn't matter that she knew the consequences— she wished to avoid them.

"
If
I decide to go to London, we must both promise that there will be no repeats of last night— or any similar behavior." Just the thought of "similar behavior" was enough to make her knees quiver.

He had the nerve to look affronted. "Do you really believe I would take advantage of your being a guest in my home?"

His wounded tone triggered something deep within her, something old and musty from the past. It filled her with a cold that numbed her from head to toe. Rising to her feet, she fixed him with a hard gaze.

"You would have taken my virginity and walked away without a backward glance. I believe you capable of almost anything."

Color blossomed on his high cheekbones as he also stood. "I think I can safely give you my word that there would be
no
repeats of last night whatsoever."

She shouldn't be hurt by his coldness— after all, she had just been as rude to him— but it stung all the same because she was the one who had been hurt all those years ago. It was her life that had been forever changed, and he didn't seem the least bit sorry for having been the cause of it.

"Good," she replied, her voice clipped. "Now if you will excuse me, I am late for breakfast."

He nodded. "I believe I will check on my carriage. I have the sudden desire to be on the road as soon as possible."

And with that he brushed past her, leaving her alone in the room and denying her the satisfaction of having had the last word.

Two hours later, Sophia stood at the dining-room window and watched as Julian's carriage rolled up the drive-way. The new wheel was in place and all that was left was to load Letitia's luggage on board.

She still had yet to decide whether or not to join them.

"I was hoping to find you alone," a low voice near her ear hissed.

Sophia jumped. It was Charles. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn't even heard him approach.

His hands slid around her waist before she could pull away. He pressed the length of himself against her back. He was solid muscle, as hard as a brick wall. His breath was hot against her neck as he nuzzled the sensitive flesh there.

"Let me go, Charles." Damn it, even her voice was shaking!

"Never," he whispered, sliding one hand up to cup her right breast.

It was odd how one reacted to something as uncomplicated as a touch. Sophia had once cared very much about Julian and had enjoyed his touches. Charles, on the other hand, she despised, and when he touched her it felt like a thousand worms crawling on her skin.

"Please," she said, catching sight of Julian through the window. Oh, God, please don't let him see! "Let me go."

Charles's response was to grind his pelvis against her buttocks. His erection poked at her through her skirts, and Sophia knew then and there that Charles was going to have her, whether she wanted it or not.

She braced one hand against the window frame to keep from toppling headfirst into the glass as he thrust against her. With her other hand she tried to pry his fingers away from her breast.

It didn't work. In fact, it only seemed to make him more insistent. The fingers on her breast flexed upward, gripping and tugging at the neck of her gown. The sound of tearing fabric was as frightening as it was heartbreaking. He was going to ravage her and all she could think of was the ruin of her favorite gown.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Let me go!"

Charles's teeth were sharp against her neck. "Yell all you want. No one will come help you. Wolfram's leaving and I am going to toss up your skirts and take you like the bitch you are."

He pulled her away from the window, and pushed her face down over the table. The polished wood pulled at her cheek as Charles shoved at her from behind. Tears of pain and fury sprang to Sophia's eyes as she struggled to free herself of his grasp.

It was at that moment, as tears threatened to cloud her vision that Sophia looked up— and saw Julian standing in the doorway, an expression she had never seen before hardening his face.

"Let her go." His voice was so low, so chilled that Sophia shivered.

"Wolfram," Charles said jovially, lifting his weight off her back. "I thought you were leaving."

Her arms trembling, Sophia pushed against the table-top, clinging to it for support as her legs shook beneath her.

"I am," Julian replied. He didn't look at her. "I came to see if Lady Aberley had changed her mind about accompanying us."

The two men never took their eyes off each other, yet Sophia could feel Julian watching her.

Charles smiled. "She hasn't."

"Actually— " Her voice was a mere whisper and Sophia cleared her throat. "I have."

Both men turned to her. Still holding the table for support, Sophia inched away from Charles. She kept her gaze pinned on Julian, even as her heart beat against her ribs. She expected Charles to try to stop her, but he didn't. Probably because he knew she would have to return to Hertford once the season ended.

"I would very much like to accompany you and your sister to London, if the offer still stands, Lord Wolfram."

Julian's hard gaze flickered briefly to Charles before returning to her. Some of the coldness left his eyes as he held out his hand to her. Sophia took it, cautiously.

"It still stands," he said, squeezing her fingers.

It was all Sophia could do not to squeeze back.

He had been wrong to bring her to London.

One look at Sophia's happy face as the carriage entered the city and Julian knew he was going to face the challenge of his life in resisting her allure. But he couldn't have left her in Hertford, not with that bastard Aberley.

He couldn't get the image of her frightened face from his mind. He could have killed Aberley and not have thought twice about it. Killed him, not just for hurting a woman, but for hurting Sophia. The implications of that possessive, murderous rage were not things Julian wanted to think about.

"We simply must get you a plum silk ball gown," Letitia was saying, once again turning the conversation to fashion. "With a matching feather for your hair."

Sophia smiled patiently, flashing a brief glance in Julian's direction. "I do not like feathers. Do not go overboard, Letitia. I have no desire to abuse Lord Wolfram's kindness."

Perhaps agreeing to buy some gowns for Sophia had been weak of him, but he had seen the crushed expression on Sophia's face as she fussed over the tear Aberley had put in her gown. The dress was either her favorite or her best, and while it was pretty enough it was nothing compared to the finery she would be expected, as a marchioness, to wear in London.

He wanted to make her happy, and that was, in some ways, even more disturbing than Aberley's attack. As sorry as he felt for Sophia, as much as he regretted thinking she and Aberley had been lovers, he could not forget that the minute he let down his guard there was the chance that she would be there to take advantage of it.

He listened to their conversation with half an ear as the carriage wove through London traffic. The sound of hooves and wheels against the cobblestones was a pleasant cacophony, familiar and comforting.

He loved London. It was home. Of all the houses he owned, the London house held the most pleasant memories. The only other estate he'd ever felt such attachment to was Heatherington Park in Yorkshire, and he went there but seldom. Miranda had killed herself there, and while being there made him feel close to her, it was still far too painful to endure for long, even with Brave and Rachel nearby.

Brave and Rachel! Good lord, what would they have to say when they learned he'd brought Sophia to town? For that matter, what would Gabriel and Lilith's reaction be? Lilith might not be such a willing ally, having known Sophia in the past.

Turning, he opened his mouth to suggest to Letitia that they have a small dinner party to reintroduce Sophia to society, but the words stuck in his throat as his gaze fell upon Sophia.

She had her face pressed to the window, her black eyes as round as saucers as they stared at the passing scene beyond. They were entering Mayfair, a neighborhood as opulent as the members of the
haute ton
who made it their home. That it had been a long time since Sophia had seen it was obvious. That she loved it was even more so.