Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (18 page)

He couldn’t issue a rebuttal to her doubts just now, though. He wouldn’t lead her
on, for she deserved far better. He didn’t want to hurt Sophie by promising a love
he couldn’t give her. Jack swore a silent oath to himself. He badly needed time to
think, to gauge the true depth of his feelings for her.

He knew his turmoil was showing on his face. And evidently his silence was damning,
for she took his failure to reply as denial.

“I thought so,” she said quietly. She let her gentle hands drop from his face, while
sharp disappointment wreathed her beautiful features.

“Sophie …”

“No, you needn’t apologize. I never expected anything more. You should go, Jack.”

“Not yet.”

He didn’t want to leave her like this. Not with matters so unsettled between them.
He needed to show her how much he wanted her, if nothing else.

His voice dropped to a murmur. “If this is farewell for us, I want to make the night
last.”

She hesitated a long while, her features conflicted.

As she wavered in indecision, Jack took her hand and led her to the bed. And when
he kissed her, her lips were soft and warm and eager.

Their mouths locking, he sank with her onto the bed and pressed her down, so that
they lay on their sides, legs dangling over the edge. His tongue met hers, coaxing,
twining in a sensuous pattern of withdrawal and penetration. He could feel Sophie’s
passion as she returned his kiss ardently.

Feeling the same urgency, he cupped his hand over
the curve of her buttocks and pulled her to his hardening shaft, capturing her snugly
against him. Her breasts branded his chest, her woman’s heat burned his loins.

Trying to go slowly, Jack eased her onto her back and raised the hem of her nightdress
to her waist.

When Sophie briefly pulled her mouth away, heat flashed in her eyes even as she resisted.
“I shouldn’t be intimate with you …”

His lips traced a burning path down the column of her throat and up again. “Hush,
sweeting.”

He took advantage of her hesitation to nudge her legs wider apart. Murmuring endearments,
he kissed along her delicate jawline to her ear as he slid his probing fingers between
her thighs and brushed the tender bare skin there.

A faint sound issued from her throat, yet she didn’t stop him when he moved higher
and found the folds of flesh that hid her femininity.

“Open for me, sweet Sophie.…”

She gave a soft gasp as he lightly circled the bud of her sex. “Jack …”

He seized her mouth again, distracting her from any further protest. His tongue played
in an erotic dance while he continued the tender assault with his fingers. Palming
her woman’s mound, he teased the swollen nub before his middle finger gently penetrated
her cleft. Sophie tensed momentarily at the unfamiliar invasion, so he forced himself
to slow the pace of his stimulation, letting her grow accustomed to the feel of him
exploring inside her, stroking lightly with his thumb.…

In only a few moments her body surrendered. She was soft and slick to the touch … and
unbelievably responsive. When Sophie curled her hips toward him, he sank a second
finger into her a little farther, slowly gliding into her damp heat.

She kissed him back wildly, trying to mold her body to his. It was the need to possess
and mate, a yearning as old as man and woman.

At her needy little moan, Jack felt such a rush of hunger, he ached with it. He wanted
to slide upward into her silky sweetness and claim her fully, but he fought the erotic
lure of joining their bodies, knowing he had to restrain his own desire and focus
on kindling her pleasure instead.

His lips and tongue alternately caressed and plundered as his hand stroked and fondled
in a methodical rhythm. After a short while, her delicate inner muscles tightened
around his fingers, while tension gathered in her entire body.

Feeling her heated wetness increasing with her arousal, Jack drew back to gaze down
at the dusky triangle between her thighs, watching the play of his fingers in and
around her glistening sex.

It was then that he shifted his position. He slid downward to kneel between her parted
thighs, much to Sophie’s bewilderment.

Her fingers clutched in his hair. “Jack … what …?”

His breath coming fast, he glanced up at the trembling, sexually aroused woman splayed
before him. She had never looked more beautiful—her lips wet and swollen, her lustrous
coils of hair spilling across her flushed cheeks, passion blurring the depths of her
eyes.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m only making love to you with my mouth. If this is our
last night together, I intend to make it memorable for you.”

Her sweet, musky scent rose to tease him, stirring his arousal even more savagely.
He wanted to know what she tasted like there, wanted to savor her.

His control no longer steady, Jack set his mouth to her softness. Instinctively, Sophie
whimpered and arched her back.

“That’s it … let me see your pleasure,” he murmured, flicking her with his tongue.

He felt her body strain with renewed hunger. Clamping her hips firmly between his
hands, he went on nibbling and suckling, circling and stroking. Soon her hips began
moving in a primitive, needful rhythm and her head fell back in ecstasy.

Jack savored the tiny cries she made when she shuddered, then shattered against his
mouth.

In the aftermath of her climax, her sobs echoed softly around them. Jack looked up
the length of Sophie’s body to her flushed face. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks
wet with tears—from passion or sorrow he couldn’t tell. Perhaps both.

It wrenched his heart to think of hurting her. Rising, he stretched out beside her
and gathered her against him. Pretending a calm he didn’t feel, desperately wanting
more of her, he pressed a tender, soothing kiss to her hair. Yet his thoughts were
still in turmoil. Lovemaking for him was never desperate. At least not until he had
met Sophie.

Embracing her tonight—tasting her kisses, feeling her soft flesh under his searching
fingers, watching
her sensual explosion—had only conflicted him further. He still felt scorched by her
passion. She was a fever in his blood, without a doubt.

It was the question of love and marriage that troubled him.

The truth was, his feelings for Sophie were far more intense than he’d ever felt for
any other woman. Yet he couldn’t promise her love unless he was certain, couldn’t
offer her marriage unless it was fitting and right. And the only thing he knew for
certain was that he wasn’t willing to let her go just yet.

His dilemma was the same, regardless. The major impediments to his courtship were
still present, only now they were even greater, since her father’s opposition had
been compounded by her official betrothal.

Jack felt his resolve harden as he contemplated his last-gasp options. Ordinarily
he was a master at winning over hearts, but in this instance, only an illustrious
title would succeed in converting Oliver Fortin’s heart, and perhaps not even that.

He still had an ace to play, though.

The question was, could he stomach the effort it would take to gain an illustrious
title? Reflexively Jack clenched his jaw. He’d vowed he wanted nothing to do with
his own father, but he might be forced to reconsider.

And whatever he decided, he needed to do it quickly. At the very least he had to buy
himself some time while he wrestled with his own feelings—which meant conferring with
his allies. As soon as he left Sophie tonight, he would seek out Mrs. Pennant and
speak to her, even if it meant waking the cantankerous
old lady and dragging her out of bed. He needed to develop a plan immediately.

Whether or not love and marriage was in his future with Sophie, he had only one choice
now, Jack reflected. He had to act at once or he would lose her—and he had no intention
of losing her just yet.

A feeling of
gloom hung over Sophie when she woke the following morning. After her bittersweet
parting with Jack, her fate was now sealed. To make matters worse, when she descended
the stairs for breakfast, she discovered that he and Skye had already departed Pennant
Hall for London, unceremoniously, without another word of farewell.

Fierce disappointment swamped Sophie. She should be delighted that he’d abandoned
his courtship of her, since she could now properly concentrate all her attention on
her betrothed. But Jack’s abrupt exit only confirmed that he cared little for her.
If he’d given up so easily, especially after she’d practically bared her soul to him,
he had clearly concluded they had no future together.

During the next two days, it also became clear that without the lively Wildes present,
all the life had drained from the house party.

Her great-aunt was not pleased with the turn of events either, for on Monday after
tea, she summoned
Sophie to her rooms for the express purpose of criticizing her decision to marry Dunmore.

“I wish I could persuade you to reconsider,” Mrs. Pennant said after taking her seat.
“Marriage is a grave undertaking, Sophie.”

“I know, Aunt,” she murmured.

“But you do not know the utter misery of being shackled for life to a husband you
cannot care for or respect.” Her great-aunt leaned forward in her chair, an earnest
expression on her wrinkled face. “I was forced to wed for wealth instead of love,
and I regretted it profoundly.”

Sophie had heard similar arguments voiced before but was surprised by her great-aunt’s
passion this time. “I don’t believe I will be miserable with the duke.”

“Perhaps not, but you will not be
happy
with him. At a minimum, he will bore you to tears. If, as I suspect, you don’t wish
to wed Dunmore, I will support your withdrawal wholeheartedly.”

“Thank you, Aunt, but I know my duty.”

Mrs. Pennant made a sour face. “You should have considered taking Lord Jack as your
husband. He would suit you far better, and he would certainly never bore you.”

“But he has no real desire to wed me, and I don’t believe we would ever have a love
match.” Jack’s own cousin had warned her about his guarded heart, she wanted to explain.

“No?” Mrs. Pennant challenged. “To my mind, he seemed more than a little smitten with
you.”

Sophie felt herself wince at her relative’s misjudgment.
“On the contrary. You saw how swiftly he departed the moment my engagement was announced.”

Her aunt’s sharp eyes studied her. “No doubt he was discouraged by your preference
for Dunmore.”

She had most emphatically not preferred Dunmore, Sophie reflected sadly. It had been
a wonderful dream, to imagine having a future with Jack. But now she had to try and
put him out of her mind and her heart. A task that would be impossible, since memories
of him would stay with her forever—

Mrs. Pennant interrupted her dejected thoughts by waving a bony hand in dismissal.
“Very well, then … If I cannot reverse your decision, let us discuss another subject
entirely. I intend to set out on Thursday for Paris, and I wish you to accompany me.”

At the startling revelation, Sophie raised her eyebrows. “Paris? Why ever would you
want to travel there?”

“To purchase the latest fashions for your trousseau, for one thing. You will make
a beautiful bride no matter what your attire, but if you are to join the nobility,
you should be properly gowned, and it falls to me to fund it.”

“Aunt, I don’t need the latest fashions.”

“Even so, if you insist on going through with this ill-advised marriage, I will show
my support. I won’t have it said that I am a nip-cheese.”

Sophie frowned as she mentally calculated the travel time to Paris. At least a day
to drive from Berkshire to the English coast, part of another to sail across the Channel,
and then several more days through France.

“Paris is a significant distance from here. Will your health allow you to make so
long a journey?”

The elderly lady responded with an acerbic smile. “Despite my myriad aches and pains,
I am not on my deathbed yet, my girl. Moreover, I have a fancy to see Paris before
I go, and I need a companion. And finally, a change of scenery should help to raise
your spirits. For the past two days you have been moping around, looking forlorn,
as if you had just attended your own funeral.”

Was her despondency so very obvious? Sophie wondered. She had tried to conceal her
feelings but evidently had made a poor job of it.

“I doubt Mama will be able to go, in her fragile state,” she protested more weakly.

“It is just as well, since your mother is not invited. As soon as our guests depart
tomorrow, you and I will begin making preparations for our trip. By this time next
week we should be in Paris.”

Realizing that more debate would prove futile, Sophie merely nodded. When Eunice Pennant’s
mind was made up, she invariably got her way.

Not surprisingly, her aunt’s prediction came to pass exactly as estimated. By the
time the house party disbanded on Tuesday, their plans were set for their trip to
Paris.