Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (20 page)

“If I must have a loveless marriage,” she said in a low voice, “it might as well be
with Dunmore.”

When Jack started to protest, Sophie held up a hand. “I am resigned to the marriage,
Jack. This … attraction between us … whatever romance we had … has been a pleasant
fantasy, nothing more.”

His heavy brows snapped together. “Merely pleasant?”

“Very well, more than pleasant … it has been wonderful. But it is still only a fantasy.”

His jaw hardened. “I am not giving up, Sophie.”

“Jack, please … I think you had best go. I will tell my aunt you called. She is still
asleep and cannot be disturbed.” Sophie rose and so did he. “The servant will show
you out.”

“I can find my own way out.”

But he failed to match his words to action. Instead, he moved closer and reached up
to caress her lower lip with a forefinger.

At the erotic gesture, Sophie felt her stomach quiver. Remembering the smoldering
heat Jack had roused in her the last time he’d touched her, she clenched her hands
to prevent herself from reaching up and pulling his mouth to hers. She well knew that
he used passion as a weapon to gain whatever he wanted, and this
time she would very likely succumb to his promise of bliss.

Deliberately she stepped back, out of reach.

After another long moment, Jack finally acceded to her wishes. With a brief bow, he
made for the door, giving up without any further fight.

When he was gone, Sophie stood there trembling, torn between cursing and crying at
the same time. Eventually she went to the window to look down on the street and saw
Jack striding to his carriage. He didn’t glance back as he climbed inside.

Fresh despair filled her as his coach drove off, yet she forced herself to turn away
from the window. It was deplorable to be pining after Jack in this shameless way.
It was even worse to be having second thoughts about her decision to marry the duke.

Damn Jack for making her yearn so foolishly. Damn and blast him for stirring up such
profound dissatisfaction inside her. She had convinced herself she was prepared to
wed Dunmore, but now she was no longer certain.…

Sophie clenched her fists again. She absolutely had to gain better control over her
treacherous feelings. Lord Jack Wilde was a devilishly charming rogue who turned sensible
women insensible, and she was determined to be sensible.

Even if it killed her.

Mrs. Pennant finally
woke an hour later but remained in bed, looking haggard. Thus, Sophie was more gentle
than she’d intended when she took her aunt to task for deceiving her.

“Why did you not tell me you were in league with Lord Jack?” she chided mildly as
she arranged the breakfast tray on Mrs. Pennant’s lap.

The elderly lady appeared only a trifle guilty and offered no apology. “Because you
would have objected, of course.”

“Did you plan all along for us to convene with him in Paris? If so, you two must have
been plotting against me even before he left Pennant Hall.”

“We were,” she said readily. “After he departed for London, we communicated by letter
and special messenger. I do not regret my machinations,” Mrs. Pennant added curtly
when Sophie frowned. “I have never concealed my desire to spoil your nuptials to Dunmore.
And I was particularly delighted to aid Lord Jack after learning he is heir to a prince.”

“He is not the heir yet,” Sophie corrected. “What is more, he dislikes the very idea
of claiming the throne.”

“But his likelihood of being a suitable match for you has improved drastically. In
truth, I had intended for us to travel on to Navartania with him to meet his father
and investigate his royal prospects for ourselves. I even held out hope that by the
time we returned to England, you could be a princess.”

Sophie still could not credit that her aunt would go to such lengths or have such
fantastical aspirations for her. “You cannot be serious.”

“Indeed I can—but the point is moot now. I overestimated my stamina and am much too
fagged to drive any farther. The thought of spending one more day in a coach, no matter
how well-sprung, makes me shudder. And regrettably, you cannot travel halfway across
France without me.”

Sophie felt only slightly remorseful at her aunt’s complaint. “It serves you right
if your connivances led to exhaustion. You should never have attempted this arduous
journey in the first place.”

Mrs. Pennant harrumphed. “You might show some gratitude, my girl. I came all this
way for your sake.”

How was it that her aunt was making
her
feel guilty? Sophie wondered. “So now you are placing the blame on me?”

“You should see that everything I have done has been for your own good, Sophie. I
fear I haven’t the strength to attend your fitting with the modiste this morning,
however. Fortunately, we needn’t cancel your appointment. Carhill will go with you.”
With an eye to safety and comfort, Mrs. Pennant had brought a large retinue with her
from England, including her
own coachman, several strapping footmen, and her dresser, Mrs. Carhill.

Sophie gave a soft huff. “I see no reason for any fittings. Purchasing my trousseau
was only an excuse for you to bring me to Paris.”

“Perhaps. But whether you marry a duke or a prince, you will need wedding clothes.
And I do not intend to waste this expensive trip. I hope to feel better by week’s
end so that I may resume my duties as your chaperone. Until then you will have to
make do with Carhill.” Mrs. Pennant sent Sophie a speculative glance. “As long as
we are here in Paris, we should make the most of it. I intended to invite Lord Jack
to accompany us to the opera this evening, but in my weakened state, I don’t believe
I can manage it. However, he can escort you without me.”

Sophie issued an immediate protest. “You are forgetting that I am betrothed, Aunt.”

“Pah, it is perfectly proper for him to attend you if I give my permission.”

Sophie shook her head, filled with dismay at the thought of being alone with Jack.
With only his brief call this morning, he’d rekindled all the blind yearning she felt
for him. How much worse would it be if she spent the entire evening with him—or, heaven
forbid, the entire week?

Furthermore, she had started to suspect her aunt of feigning fatigue in order to throw
her together with Jack. How could she defend herself when they were both actively
scheming against her?

“That is an extremely poor idea—” Sophie began before being interrupted.

“You cannot languish at a hotel with an old lady,”
her aunt insisted. “Paris is a magnificent city, even if the Frogs built it.” She
paused and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Make certain to lay out my writing implements
on the parlor desk. As soon as I finish breakfast, I shall write to Lord Jack and
beg off from the trip to Navartania, but ask that he take you to the opera tonight
as planned.”

At Sophie’s grimace of distress, Mrs. Pennant waved a dismissive hand. “Ring for Carhill,
my dear. I won’t have you missing your appointment. That modiste was outrageously
expensive and nearly impossible to engage on such short notice.”

Sophie bit back a retort, yet as she exited the bedchamber, she showed her frustration
by shutting the door with a deal more force than was strictly necessary.

In actuality, however, she was not as much vexed by her impotence as unnerved by her
vulnerability. She would do everything possible tonight to keep Jack at arm’s length
and discourage his attempts at seduction, but she had absolutely no faith in her ability
to resist him or her own foolish longings.

Jack’s own frustration at having all his carefully laid plans demolished was compounded
tenfold by Sophie’s outright rejection of his strategy. She clearly didn’t comprehend
the enormity of his decision to travel to Navartania, or understand that for him,
reconciling with his father was tantamount to bargaining with the devil.

He loathed the very thought of embracing the coward he blamed for his mother’s death.
In the past, his only reason for approaching the prince would have
been to exact revenge. Confronting Raoul de Villars for his shameful desertion had
been a deep-seated ambition of Jack’s for almost as long as he could remember.

But he realized he might have to set aside his longtime hatred for the man, so he
could appease Sophie’s father with a royal title if necessary. He wasn’t willing to
let her go without a fight.

He was also driven by a sense of urgency, since time was a critical factor. And with
her aunt bedridden, he had no choice now. Sophie would never travel with him on her
own; her love for her parents wouldn’t allow her to defy propriety so brazenly and
jeopardize her noble marriage.

No, he had to change course immediately.

Sophie would not be happy with his new plan, Jack knew. In fact she might well be
outraged. As he left his own hotel room and headed for the livery stables, though,
he ignored the prodding of his own conscience.

Desperate situations called for desperate measures, and this one was beginning to
qualify as desperate.

When Jack arrived at the Hôtel Portois that evening, Mrs. Pennant was still too weary
to attend the opera, but her fatigue played directly into his hands.

Sophie appeared reluctant to accompany him alone, giving him a cool greeting. Clearly
she was still chagrined by his conspiracy with her elderly relative.

When he handed her into his coach, Sophie voiced her unhappiness. “It is callous of
you to continue pursuing me when you know I cannot break my betrothal.”

She said little else as the coach got underway. Jack could tell she had no suspicion
of his intentions until nearly half an hour later, when she noted that it was taking
a very long time to reach the Paris Opera. When she glanced out the window, her growing
confusion was obvious, for the cobblestone streets had turned to highway and the city
environs had given way to rural countryside.

“Where are we?” Sophie asked.

Jack hesitated to answer, wanting to postpone the expected explosion as long as possible.
“We have left Paris.”

“I can see as much. Where are you taking me?”

“To Navartania.”

She stared in disbelief. “You must be jesting. Not even you would be so brazen.” When
Jack didn’t refute her, Sophie searched his face. “You actually duped me into entering
your carriage so you could
abduct
me?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She was visibly shocked by his audacity. “Surely my aunt does not condone your shameless
actions, Jack.”

“She doesn’t know.” He hadn’t told Mrs. Pennant because he suspected she would balk.
It was one thing for her to support his courtship; it was quite another to aid and
abet an abduction.

Sophie’s astonishment turned to concern for her great-aunt. “I didn’t think she would
consent, even if she did bring me to Paris under false pretenses. But she will be
beside herself with worry when I don’t return home after the opera. At her age, she
should not be exposed to such fright.”

“I left a message to be delivered to her later this
evening, explaining that you are safe and that I am taking you to see my father. I
promised to care for you.”

Sophie’s reply held exasperation. “She entrusted you with my protection and this is
how you repay her?”

“You left me with no choice, Sophie. This is the only way to save you from marriage
to Dunmore.”

“I told you I didn’t want to be saved.”

“It is for your own good, love.”

“You are not thinking of my own good at all.” Taking a steadying breath, Sophie made
an effort to reason with him. “You know that reneging on my promise would deliver
a devastating blow to my parents.”

“It would only be a blow if you couldn’t marry a prince instead of a duke.”

“Jack …” she protested, struggling to rein in her aggravation. “You can’t truly mean
to take me all the way to Navartania against my will.”

“I tried persuasion to no avail. You refused to accompany me.”

“For good reason. As I said this morning, there is no point in us even discussing
a future together. It is far too late to change my father’s mind about my union with
Dunmore, and even if it wasn’t, I cannot be so selfish as to only consider my own
desires. I have to see the marriage through.”

Jack could see her next argument forming, so he forestalled her with a request. “Come
with me to Navartania first, Sophie, and then decide. If you still are of the same
mind about marrying your duke, I will return you to Paris.”

Her gaze remained skeptical. “How long will it take us to get there?”

“The better part of three days.”

“And three days to return?” Her eyebrows shot up in dismay. “Jack, an unchaperoned
journey of such length will
ruin
me.”

“No, it won’t.”

“It
will
. And that will mean the end of my betrothal. Dunmore won’t want to wed a tarnished
bride.”

“You won’t be tarnished. He will never know you are with me. No one will. I doubt
your aunt will advertise your absence from Paris.”