Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (11 page)

“I won’t risk it.” Oliver’s expression darkened as he shook his head sternly. “His
mother was an utter scandal in her day, and his relative killed your great-grandfather
in cold blood.”

Sophie felt the need to defend Jack against the unfair charges. “I know, Papa, but
Lord Jack
did not kill anyone. And he is not responsible for what his mother did three decades
ago. Furthermore, I would truly like to know Lady Skye. She is said to be delightful.”

Her father was clearly not mollified, however. “He could be a fortune hunter, have
you considered that?”

Since Mrs. Pennant planned to leave her fortune to Sophie, Oliver was always on the
lookout for scoundrels who might take advantage of his daughter’s inexperience and
tender heart.

But Mrs. Pennant retorted before Sophie could. “Pah, Lord Jack has his own fortune.
Why would he need Sophie’s?”

Oliver raised a hand. “I forbid you to even speak to them, Sophie.”

“Papa, if they speak to me, I can hardly ignore them.”

Surprisingly, Rebecca spoke up for the first time, addressing her husband in her quiet
voice. “Sophie is right, my dear. She cannot display bad manners in front of the duke.
Such an unseemly display of ill-breeding would give him a disgust of her and damage
her chances to wed him.”

When Oliver ground his jaw stubbornly, Rebecca seemed to withdraw once more and returned
her gaze to her plate, which abruptly caused his expression to soften. His wife asked
for so little that he was always willing to accommodate her.

“Very well,” he relented. “Sophie may speak to them—but only if spoken to first.”

Sophie repressed a sigh of relief. Her father’s reaction was not as violent as she’d
expected, so she supposed that could be counted a victory of sorts.

But the decision obviously did not sit well with him. As soon as luncheon was finished,
Oliver excused himself from the table, muttering that he did not intend to be present
when certain repugnant company arrived.

As he stalked out, Sophie caught Eunice’s eye, which gleamed with relish, suggesting
that she had purposely baited Oliver.

This time Sophie’s sigh was audible. Sometimes her great-aunt was not a very nice
woman, and she was not looking forward to refereeing their family battles, which would
only be made worse by the addition of Lord Jack.

Perhaps she was being overly hopeful about the potential outcome of his visit after
all.

He and his cousin were among the last guests to arrive, and when he finally appeared
two hours later, Sophie couldn’t help the leap of her heart at seeing him once more.
Locking gazes with Lord Jack brought to mind his scorching kisses and sent butterflies
rioting in her stomach.

Fortunately, her reaction went unnoticed by anyone but him. Lord Jack’s gaze lingered
on her for a moment longer before he turned to pay his respects to Mrs. Pennant and
introduce his cousin. When Sophie’s turn came, she greeted Lady Skye warmly and welcomed
Lord Jack with proper politeness.

There was no chance for a private word with him afterward, though, since just then
the Duke of Dunmore arrived with much pomp and fanfare. For the remainder of the afternoon,
Sophie was kept busy in a whirlwind of activity—making the guests comfortable, welcoming
them with tea and other refreshments, and showing them the house and gardens. Dunmore
claimed the largest share of her attention, a circumstance that should have been flattering
but merely left her feeling frustrated and restless.

When it came time for dinner, the guests gathered in the drawing room beforehand.
Sophie saw her father shoot Lord Jack a dark look and held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t
make a scene. But for the next half hour he gave both Wildes a wide berth. He was
determined to shun them, it seemed.

She had taken unusual care with the seating arrangements, keeping the Wildes at one
end of the
long dinner table, with Mrs. Pennant and the Fortins at the other with the duke. They
managed to get through dinner without incident, but Sophie found herself envying the
laughter at the far end. The Wildes appeared to be enjoying themselves, and Lady Skye’s
vibrant personality shone even at a distance. The conversation at her own end was
somewhat stilted, but the duke was oblivious to the awkward undercurrents of tension
in the air.

Since there were more ladies than gentlemen present, after the dessert course, they
all repaired to the drawing room together instead of the men lingering over port.

There was a close call when the Wilde cousins came face-to-face with Sophie’s father,
but then Oliver hurriedly crossed the room to avoid having to meet them—rather like
a Shakespearean comedy, Sophie thought, hiding her wince. It might have been amusing
had the stakes been less serious.

For entertainment the first evening, two tables of cards had been set up, since Mrs.
Pennant was a great whist enthusiast. At her invitation, Lord Jack joined her game,
while Sophie’s father pointedly chose the other. Dunmore remained with the younger
ladies, who took turns playing the pianoforte and singing. Sophie was fairly accomplished
at playing, but knew her voice was nothing extraordinary. Even so, Dunmore lavished
compliments on her, almost to the point of embarrassment.

When she caught Lady Skye’s amused eye, they shared a silent moment of camaraderie.
Sophie was grateful when shortly afterward, Lady Skye drew the duke’s attention and
engaged him in conversation.

As the evening wore on and the card games disbanded, Sophie was glad to escape to
confer with the housekeeper about the tea tray. To her surprise—and admittedly secret
delight—she met Lord Jack on her return. Yet she was not at all surprised when he
took her arm and drew her into the nearest room, which happened to be a small parlor.

“I was plotting how to steal you away from your duties,” Lord Jack confessed as he
guided her into the room and away from the open door, “but fortunately you saved me
the trouble. I can see I will have to be more inventive if we’re to find ways to be
together this week. Skye has volunteered to keep Dunmore occupied, but that may not
be enough.”

Sophie caught her breath when he stepped closer. He wasn’t touching but was close
enough that the heat radiating from his body warmed her.

“My father has forbidden me to speak to you unless you speak first,” she murmured.

“Then I shall have to take care to speak first. When can I see you alone?” Her hesitation
led him to prod her. “Your father’s strictures leave us no choice but to meet in secret.
Come, sweet Sophie, say you will meet me.”

His coaxing tone was like a siren’s call. He was trying to lead her astray and make
her forget her familial obligations, Sophie knew, yet she couldn’t bring herself to
object.

“I should have a few moments tomorrow morning before the guests gather for breakfast … perhaps
eight o’clock. If you are willing to rise that early,” she added dubiously.

His quick grin held a teasing quality to it. “I am not
as indolent as you believe. I regularly ride at that time. Where shall we meet?”

“There is a stone bridge a short walk from here that should offer privacy. You head
west on the lane behind the gardens. But we cannot be seen leaving together.”

“I’ll take a horse out for a ride in the morning. Will you come then?”

His offer was too tantalizing to resist, of course. “Yes.”

His eyes crinkling with pleasure, he stepped even closer. When her body pressed against
his and instantly responded to his heat, Sophie reflexively splayed her hands against
his chest to hold him off.

“Don’t fear,” he soothed. “I won’t kiss you here.”

Perhaps not, but his nearness was assaulting her nerves with little shocks of sensation,
eliciting unmistakable feminine stirrings and cravings inside her. “You will forgive
me if I don’t trust you,” she pointed out.

“Sophie, love, you malign me unjustly. Clearly I will have to work harder to win your
trust.”

Her heart tumbled at that charming grin. A ridiculous response, considering that he
was bent on seducing her.

When he lowered his head and began feathering kisses over her cheekbone to the corner
of her mouth, her protest came out in a rasp. “
This
is how you attempt to win my trust? Not five seconds ago you said you wouldn’t kiss
me.”

“This isn’t kissing. This is savoring your taste.”

“The distinction is lost on me, Lord Jack …”

“Hush, darling. Let me enjoy this.”

Sophie fell silent as his lips’ sensual caresses on her face sent melting rivulets
of desire flooding inside her. For the space of a dozen heartbeats, she felt herself
surrendering … until she heard footsteps out in the corridor beyond the open door.
She froze in alarm, while Lord Jack left off his seductive ministrations.

She stood gazing into his dark eyes for a long, breathless moment as the footsteps
passed by. When they had finally faded away, she exhaled and insisted in a low whisper,
“We cannot be here together. Someone could discover us.”

“It is worth the risk.”

“That is easy for
you
to say. The risk would not be to you, only to me.”

An unrepentant grin flashed across his lips. “We can close and lock the door.”

His smile was partly sinful and wholly enticing. Did he practice to perfect such devastating
charm? Sophie wondered, feeling herself wanting to melt against him again.

“No, we
cannot
close and lock the door, Lord Jack,” she replied firmly.

Shaking herself, she stepped back and turned away before the temptation of his marvelous
mouth could draw her into doing something utterly foolish.

However, she couldn’t stop herself from dreaming of Lord Jack’s wicked kisses later
that night, nor could she restrain her eagerness when she stole out of the house shortly
before eight o’clock the next morning.

Her excursion was briefly interrupted by another near miss when she spied the head
gardener heading
toward her on the gravel path. Not wanting to be seen, Sophie quickly slipped behind
a topiary yew and waited for him to pass, before making for the rear gate and the
lane that led to her secret rendezvous with Lord Jack.

It was a golden morning. A light mist hovered over the fields and meadows, making
the June air smell sweet and fresh. Sophie hurried down the country lane flanked by
poplars and elms, toward the picturesque stone bridge, and eventually saw Lord Jack
waiting for her at the near end, mounted on a bay horse. When she reached him, the
smile he offered her was an endearment that penetrated every defense she had.

“I won a wager with myself—you came,” he said approvingly.

“I told you I would.”

“And you keep your promises.”

“Well, yes. But I am a terrible daughter, sneaking out against my parents’ express
wishes.”

He laughed as he dismounted. “You are an angelic daughter.”

“Certainly I am angelic compared to
you
. You are a rebel through and through. I am a conformist at heart.”

“I think there is a secret rebel inside you just longing to be free. Otherwise, you
wouldn’t be here with me now.”

Sophie gave him no argument. This escapade with him was pure fantasy; indeed, it seemed
unreal. But the truth was, she wanted to be wooed by this irresistible, enchanting
man. He was the epitome of the boldly passionate rogue. He offered excitement and
the promise of passion and forbidden love. What woman could resist that alluring combination?

Leading the bay, Lord Jack took her hand and guided her down the grassy slope to the
rushing stream that ran beneath the bridge, where he tethered the horse to a tree
branch. Sophie watched as he reached in his saddlebag and drew out a blanket, a small
cloth bundle, and a flask of what he said was cider.

“I brought us a treat. I wasn’t inclined to wait until a formal breakfast to sate
my hunger.”

He spread the blanket on the grass beside the stream, then settled with her there.
To her delight, he opened the cloth to reveal a half dozen buttered crumpets.

“How did you come by these?” Sophie asked, accepting a crumpet.

“I made friends with your cook and pilfered your aunt’s pantry.”

“You mean you cozened the cook? Is there any female you cannot charm?”

“You have been more difficult than most. Why is that, do you think?”

“Probably because I was raised to be wary of seductive libertines like you.”

He made a tsking sound and offered her the flask. “So tell me about yourself, Sophie
Fortin.”

“What do you wish to know?”

“Everything. We have a lifetime of catching up to do.”

It seemed he truly did want to know her better, Sophie realized as they shared the
crumpets and cider. He asked about her childhood in Surrey, her schooling,
her late brother.… At the reminder of her loss, Sophie swallowed the ache in her throat.
She still couldn’t think of Theo without hurting inside, but she told Lord Jack about
the sudden fever that had claimed her brother and devastated her family.

As if recognizing her sadness, Lord Jack changed the subject to her impending engagement.

“You have made your father’s ambitions for you very clear. What does your mother think?”

“She has the same hopes for me. Mama is a gentle soul but pragmatic. She believes
that daughters ought to marry as their parents bid.”

“I still wonder at their choice for you,” he said, lying back on the blanket and lacing
his hands behind his head. “You have little in common with Dunmore.”

“Why do you say so?”

“He lives to ride to hounds, for one thing.”

Sophie winced. “I confess I am not fond of foxhunting. I would feel too much sympathy
for the poor fox. My parents never kept saddle horses either, so I don’t ride particularly
well.”

“In that respect, Skye and Kate are better suited to Dunmore than you are. They were
practically born in the saddle.”

“Well, fortunately horsemanship is not a prerequisite for marriage.”