Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (22 page)

As semidarkness enveloped them, he heard Sophie sit on the bed and then pause to pull
the pins from her hair. Turning his head, Jack watched her in the glow of the fire’s
light as she let the rich, coiling tresses fall down her back. A few moments later,
she lay down fully dressed and pulled the covers up to her neck.

The sound of her breathing was uneven and occasionally
broken by soft, restless sighs. Apparently Sophie couldn’t sleep, for she rolled over
and punched her pillow.

Jack felt like doing the same. Remorse was starting to return rather forcefully, along
with a measure of black humor. He was sharing a bedchamber with a warm, vibrant, passionate
woman and sleeping alone on the cold wooden floor. What had become of his vaunted
seductive skills?

He wanted Sophie more than he’d ever wanted any woman in his life. He wanted to explore
that glorious mass of hair with his hands. He wanted to lie with her and hold her
and absorb her potent warmth all night long.… But sadly, his need to wrap himself
in her special warmth would remain unfulfilled. Unless he could convince her that
he wasn’t the blackguard she thought him.

Unless he could restore her trust in him.

Rolling onto his back, Jack stared at the flickering firelight on the ceiling. He
couldn’t bear to see her so unhappy, knowing he was the cause. He’d abducted her and
risked plunging her into a scandal—and yet his secretiveness was an even greater issue
with Sophie than his high-handedness.

Jack took a slow, uncertain breath as he struggled with his next words.

“I don’t know how much Skye told you about my childhood,” he finally said in a muted
voice.

Sophie didn’t reply, so he began talking in the hushed quiet of the room.

“I had an unusual upbringing, chiefly because my mother was caught between two different
worlds. She was a member of the English nobility—a wealthy
marquess’s daughter—yet she was essentially a foreign prince’s mistress. She was hopelessly
in love, so much so that she gave up her former life and made Paris her home in order
to be near her lover. She was also vivacious and enchanting and I worshiped her.”

Jack paused, remembering his mother. To a young boy, Lady Clara Wilde had been beyond
wonderful—high-spirited and beautiful, with the kind of lively warmth Sophie had in
abundance. But love had made her reckless and foolish. She’d remained in Paris despite
the increasing violence against the
aristos
, not knowing she would become one of the many innocent victims of the French Revolution.

Jack shut his eyes at that last gruesome memory of his mother when he was six. For
the better part of a year, it had been the two of them against a world gone mad. And
then, that one fateful day, he’d watched his vibrant mother’s life snuffed out by
a mob crazed for blue blood.

“I saw her killed right before my eyes,” he said in the barest rasp. “We were returning
home when we were separated from our footman by a rabble mob. My mother only cared
about protecting me, not her own safety. She screamed at me to run while she tried
to fight them off with her bare hands, but I couldn’t leave her … and I couldn’t stop
them. I watched as they beat her to a bloody pulp with clubs and pitchforks.”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut more tightly at the excruciating memory. “I couldn’t save
her.”

Sophie spoke for the first time since he had put out the lamp. “You were only a young
child, Jack. You could not possibly have saved her.”

“I know. But my father could have. Prince Raoul de Villars had the wealth and resources
to protect her if he chose. Instead, he was determined to save his own skin. When
the Revolution turned deadly, he fled Paris and left her to fend for herself and her
young son alone.”

“That is why you hate him so much. Because he deserted your mother.”

“
Yes
.” Jack ground out the word. Prince Raoul had seduced Clara but refused to marry her
even after she bore his child. Then, like a coward, he’d abandoned them to the hostilities
of the Paris rabble and left them unprotected while he escaped to the safety of his
kingdom.

“He is fully to blame for her death. He knew the dangers she faced—a woman alone,
a foreigner, an aristocrat during the Reign of Terror. He knew she would never return
home to England. She wanted to be close to him, even if he would never wed her as
she deserved. He should have remained to protect her, or taken her home with him,
or removed her from Paris. In truth, he should have married her. An honorable man
would have done so. He chose to save himself instead.”

Jack was aware how hard his voice had grown. He never thought about his father unless
he was forced to, but the fury was still there inside him. As were his long-smoldering
thoughts of vengeance. He had a serious score to settle with his father.

“I always vowed that someday I would make Prince Raoul pay for his sins. But now … Now
I am actually considering giving up my revenge in exchange for gaining his throne.”

All for Sophie’s sake.

An incredible shift of perspective, Jack reflected grimly. It was also remarkable
that he was revealing his most painful, most private secrets to her. But the firelit
darkness of the room, the quiet intimacy, was loosening his tongue, as was Sophie’s
unmistakable sympathy.

Her voice was full of compassion when she spoke again softly. “I can understand why
you would loathe him, Jack. He was also to blame for what happened to you after your
mother was killed. Skye said when you couldn’t find your way home, you were taken
captive by a brute of a tavern-keeper.”

Jack didn’t dispute that account. Compared to losing his beloved mother, his captivity
had been minor, but he did indeed blame Raoul de Villars for his torment.

“You were right. My life was shattered that day,” he said quietly. “So at first I
didn’t care what happened to me. Later, I fought my captor, but he was much too strong
for me. And twice I tried to escape. He caught me both times and made me pay.”

“W-What did he do?” Her question held a note of dread.

Jack didn’t answer. He could still feel the cut of the lash on his back and legs … never
his face, for that would have left marks that would bring down his price when he was
sold. “He was good with a whip,” he said finally.

“Dear God.” Sophie’s voice shook. “Thank heaven your uncles rescued you in time.”

“Yes.” His mind went back to the day his uncles
had come to rescue him from the despicable Gaspard Gautier.

He could hear the fierce argument coming from two floors below, although he couldn’t
make out what was being said. Some time later, two strange men opened the attic door
where he was being held prisoner. He was crouched in the corner with his pet dormouse,
trying to make himself small and invisible
.

He flinched when the strangers approached, which made them both halt abruptly
.

“Dear God …” the darker haired man murmured quietly, unable to conceal his shock.
“Jack, my child, you needn’t fear us. I swear we won’t harm you. I am your Uncle Stephen,
and this is your Uncle Lionel. Your mother was my sister.”

He ventured another frightened glance at the strangers. The other man was fair-haired,
but both were tall and richly dressed
.

“Do you remember us, Jack?” the one called Lionel asked gently. “The last time you
saw us was when we visited your
maman
two years ago, right here in Paris.”

He had vague recollections of both men, the laughter and affection they had shared
with his mama
.

When he nodded tentatively, his Uncle Stephen carefully bent down and held out a gentle
hand to him. “Jack, you needn’t be afraid any longer. By God, you will never have
to be afraid again. You have a family in England who loves you … cousins who are near
your own age. Please, come with us, my dear boy. We will take you home.”

Shaking himself back to the present, Jack wondered how he had come to be discussing
such agonizing
emotional subjects with Sophie. Why had he revealed his most private wounds to her?
Why had he shared stories that he’d never told another soul?

Clearly he trusted her far more than she realized. His past was so painful to remember
that even his family had had to piece together what had happened to him before he
came to England to live at Beauvoir.

But his childhood traumas weren’t important. What mattered was changing Sophie’s mind
about traveling with him to Navartania. The truth was, he
needed
her with him, for reasons he couldn’t fully explain to himself.

And yet the choice had to be hers.

Her anger seemed to have eased in significant measure, at least, so he resolved to
try again.

“Sophie …” Jack said in a low voice. “I want you with me when I face my father, but
the decision must be yours. I meant what I said. Whether or not I accept the throne
depends entirely upon you. If in the morning, however, you still don’t wish to come
with me, I will return you to Paris.”

Sophie remained silent for such a long time, he wondered if she had fallen asleep.

But then she surprised him by finally speaking. “Jack, you needn’t sleep on the floor
tonight.”

His heart slowed, then skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to share the bed with me.”

No doubt she
was being utterly foolish, Sophie thought an instant after issuing her impulsive
invitation. She was still angry and distressed by Jack’s outrageous machinations,
and yet his heartbreaking confessions had thrown her own emotions into turmoil. She
wanted to shake him soundly while holding him to her breast to comfort him.

According to his cousin, Jack rarely ever revealed anything of himself, and Sophie
had witnessed his strict reserve for herself. He guarded his feelings so fiercely,
it was remarkable that he’d let her glimpse that wounded young boy inside of him.
The anguish she’d heard in his voice made her heart hurt.

Clearly she was letting her too-soft sensibilities overrule her head.

On the other hand, she finally realized how monumental a sacrifice he was prepared
to make for her sake. She could only imagine how loathsome he would find it, reuniting
with the man he blamed for his mother’s death. If Jack was willing to suffer such
a concession in order to preserve the chance to wed
her … well, she couldn’t simply ignore his entreaty to accompany him on his journey.

She was merely following her instincts by inviting him into her bed, Sophie told herself.
And in truth, he had gone to significant trouble, arranging her abduction. Some small,
decidedly feminine part of her was even secretly thrilled that he wanted her badly
enough to consider changing his entire life for her—

Sophie winced inwardly at her absurd rationalization. She couldn’t excuse Jack’s abominable
behavior. He had forcibly imposed his will on her with no thought for the potentially
disastrous consequences to her reputation or her future.

No, she wouldn’t let him off with no retribution. On the contrary, a plan was forming
in her mind about how to turn the tables on him, one that entailed her taking the
initiative.…

Therefore, Sophie repeated her brazen invitation to share the bed. “I won’t be able
to sleep, knowing I banished you to the floor,” she explained softly.

She had surprised Jack, she could tell by his resulting silence.

“You are asking me to join you?” he finally said.

“Yes.”

Rising, he came to stand beside the bed. He looked a little wary at her sudden about-face
as he gazed down at her. “Aren’t you concerned about propriety?”

“Yes, but we have already committed so many shocking improprieties that one more will
hardly matter. I see no reason we must be uncomfortable. We can sleep in the same
bed together.”

When he hesitated, she added, “Perhaps you are
right and we can avoid a scandal entirely. No one ever need learn about my absence
from Paris, especially with help from my aunt. Speaking of discomfort … will you help
me out of my corset? It is much too tight.”

Jack’s suspicions didn’t fade, but he obliged her when she sat up and offered him
her back.

Sophie let him undress her down to her shift, then lay down on the bed once more.
When he fetched the pillow and blanket from the floor and made to join her in the
bed, though, she stopped him. “You have on too many clothes. You need to remove your
shirt and pantaloons.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he complied, stripping down to his drawers. When Sophie
shifted to make room for him, he stretched out beside her on the bed so they were
lying face-to-face.

Setting her plan in motion, she deliberately splayed her fingers against his bare
chest. As she should have expected, however, Jack took over. With an arm around her
waist, he drew her close, locking her against him. Instantly his body heat enveloped
her, as did his musky male scent. She could feel her breasts swelling against the
solid wall of his chest, her nipples peaking beneath the fine cambric of her shift.
As usual his embrace set her to trembling.