The Sheik's Son (15 page)

He was at his wit’s end. He had decided to run away to the country like a whipped boy when he heard of the duke and Sebastian’s trip. It would be just the thing. Unfortunately, Leila had also heard of the journey. She had smiled and beguiled the duke, who could never say no to a woman. He had invited her as his guest to the country as well.

The carriage ride had been a ride through hell and heaven. The duke had fallen asleep across from them and she had placed a blanket over her legs.

He knew she had many skirts and petticoats so he wasn’t even sure how she had done it, but she suddenly whispered to him, “Etienne, feel.”

Swiftly she had taken his hand and placed it under the blanket. He didn’t feel skirts or petticoats, just the silk of her stockings and the sweet texture of her upper thigh.
Oh my God
, he thought.

He looked into those innocent eyes and shuddered. Had they been alone he would have flung her onto her back without giving it a second thought and given her the pounding she deserved.

Sure, Sebastian would call him to a duel and he would probably die. But before that, he would feel the little witch’s legs wrap around his waist and the sweet grip of her walls around him.

“Why are you doing this, Leila? Why?” he finally muttered the question that he wanted most to know.

She looked confused and then smiled. “I like you, Etienne. Very much.”

He tried to remove his hand but she moved it higher on her thigh. He looked over at the duke but he had turned away from them and was snoring lightly. He looked back at Leila. She was gorgeous. Her brown hair was pinned back and her eyes looked so big in the dark. Her mouth was parted slightly and he could tell she was aroused.

He closed his eyes as she guided him higher up her thigh until he felt the curls. He was so hard and wanted nothing more than to empty his seed inside her.

“Leila, I can’t—” he whispered to her.

“You can,” she whispered back.

Merde
!

He pressed a finger against the curls and he saw Leila bite her bottom lip.

“I won’t hurt you,” he assured her.

She smiled in the dark. “I know.” She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth just as his finger slipped inside her wet core. She was deliciously wet and slippery and he could feel the ridges inside her.

A tiny moan escaped her mouth and Etienne smiled. His finger slipped inside her deeper as they kissed, tongues entwining. He imagined his cock inside her anywhere she wanted—against a wall, in a bed, anywhere where he could feel her—
oh no! No
!

His finger suddenly came upon what he had not thought possible. He had thought she was a little slut who had had been sent to Paris because of a broken engagement or an impending divorce. No. That wasn’t why she had been sent to France. Not at all.

Etienne moved his finger out of her and pressed her back to her side of the carriage with a determined look on his face.

“What happened?” Leila asked, confused.

Etienne wiped his finger against his breeches when all he really wanted was to taste her. “Why were you sent to France, Leila?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered vaguely.

“Wrong answer.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes looked so blue, almost black in the dark.

“What exactly did you think I would find while playing this little game?” he asked bluntly in a harsh whisper.

Leila blushed. “I don’t know.”

“You’re a virgin. You must have done something and your father sent you here.”

“Oh, that.” She settled back.

“Yes, that. I thought maybe you had been married and it didn’t work out. But they sent you here to safeguard you, didn’t they? Do you understand?”

“I don’t care about it. I don’t want it anymore. It’s a hindrance.”

Etienne shook his head. She was playing with fire. Some man would come along and rape her for all her teasing.

“You’ll marry and then it will be gone.”

“I’m old enough to experience it,” she pouted.

“That will be up to your father to decide whom you marry and then you’ll experience it. In the meantime, stay away from me. No more of your little games. You do it again and I’m going to tell your brother,” he threatened.

Leila was silent for several moments. “I’ve decided you’re the one I want.”

Etienne almost shuddered. He leaned into her. “I’ve no wish to die in a duel by your brother’s hand, who incidentally is my good friend.”

Leila smiled. “He won’t hurt you.”

“Leila. You seem to not grasp this concept. You are a virgin. You must give it to your husband, not someone you’ve chosen for the night. You aren’t a whore.” He was getting angry.

“I want you. No other will do,” she said simply.

Etienne closed his eyes. He was in hell. His best friend’s sister was winding him up until all he could imagine was them both naked and entwined.

“It’s not your choice, Leila,” he said with determination and finality.

Afterwards, the carriage ride was silent but filled with the words that had been said by them both.

***

Following dinner, everyone settled into the large salon as the butler and footman circulated coffee to the guests. Madame Necker, Germaine and Sophie sat near each other in conversation with the three intellectual men discussing politics and government.

Etienne and Sebastian played billiards in an adjoining room while the duke and Leila played chess. Eugenie sat before the fire embroidering while keeping an eye on her granddaughter. A glass of sherry was at her right hand.

“How was the journey here?” Sebastian asked his friend as he took up his cue.

Etienne wondered what his friend would do if he told him the truth. Snap the billiard cue over his head, most likely.

“Fine.”

He would lie this time, but it would be the last. He was absolutely resolute that the next time the little temptress approached him he would go straight to her brother. He didn’t know what she had done but it must have been substantial for her to have been sent to her brother in France.

Comte de Buffon was much impressed with the auburn-haired beauty who seemed to be a great new favorite of Madame Necker’s. Her father was a lawyer with the Ferme générale and she had been well educated.

“I missed the discussion on birth and marriage, I understand,” he remarked.

Marmontel and La Harpe eyed the
comte
before Marmontel spoke. “It was nothing.”

“A new pamphlet being circulated,
comte
. ‘Marry Carry and Bear.’” Madame Necker explained to the newcomer. “With your extensive work on natural history, we thought you would have enjoyed the discussion.”

Buffon accepted the cup and saucer of coffee and nodded. “Yes, I’ve read it.”

“What did you think of it?” Germaine asked.

He shrugged. “It seemed very straightforward to me.”

Madame Necker smiled. “Well, it would. But then, you aren’t the average man,
comte
.”

Buffon smiled. “Natural history is a subject dear to my heart. But to write a pamphlet on a woman marrying, carrying and bearing a child seems a tad redundant.”

“Redundant?” Sophie asked as Madame Necker eyed her with interest.

“Yes, my dear. This is nothing new. In fact, quite the opposite,” he said.

“I think you are missing the point,
monsieur
. The pamphlet was not merely discussing the anatomy of a woman but the fact that women are so much more than that,” Sophie said, defending the pamphlet.

“I dare say they are,” Buffon nodded.

“Women are thinking beings just as men and as such, deserve the same consideration.” Sophie became heated in her words.

Buffon looked to Madame Necker and smiled. “A
protégé
of yours?”

“Not at all. Mademoiselle Sophie accompanied her father to my salon one evening. She has been educated and knows her own mind,” Madame Necker replied.

“Indeed she does.” He eyed the beauty with interest.

“I saw the most hideous play last week in Paris. Did I mention it to you, Marmontel?” La Harpe turned to the other man.

Buffon watched Sophie’s face as Madame Necker whispered softly, “I think there is something much more than meets the eye with that one.”

Buffon was surprised at the words. “Yes? You think so?”

“Yes I do. But I don’t know exactly what yet.”

“You intrigue me.”

“But as I said, I’m not certain yet.”

***

“Checkmate,” said the duke to Leila as they sat in the corner of the room with the large chess game.

Leila played tolerably well though she was no match for him. He had enjoyed playing with her as her dress was cut low and she leaned over each time she moved a piece. But he had watched her make too many poor moves and thought it best to end the game.

Sebastian and Etienne had joined the group inside the large salon as their billiards game was at an end.

“Mademoiselle Sophie?” Dorset asked, gesturing to the game.

“Gladly,” she said in acceptance as she watched Sebastian move into the room. She refused to make small talk with him.

Dorset returned the pieces to their original places as she sat before him. “You look absolutely lovely, my dear. That color suits you very well,” he said, admiring her pink gown.

“Thank you,
monsieur
.” Sophie accepted the compliment.

Eugenie eyed the duke and Sophie at the chess table and deemed the situation acceptable. She returned to her embroidery and sherry.

Germaine settled next to Sebastian, who was trying not to watch Sophie and concentrate on the conversation around him.

Etienne watched Leila move away from the chess table and towards him.

“Leila,” he nodded to her. He would behave as any man would towards his best friend’s sister but nothing more. He vowed that her games were at an end.

“Etienne. I told my brother how kind you were in Paris taking me to the play and concert,” she said absently.

“I could do no less,” Etienne said as he looked at Leila and then to Sebastian.

“Of course, the maid was along as well,” she pouted.

“It is proper to have your chaperone,” Sebastian noted and Etienne nodded in agreement.

“I suppose.”

Madame Necker asked what the gentlemen were drinking and both requested a brandy.

Eugenie yawned delicately and was the first to retire. She kissed her granddaughter on the cheek and left. It was nearing midnight when the three intellectuals made their way upstairs.

Sophie won the first game and Dorset the second.

“You’re a skilled player, my dear.”

“My father enjoys chess and he taught me.”

“Well, he taught you very well. Too well,” Dorset exclaimed as his king was cornered and the game was at an end.

Sophie laughed. “Well, you can’t win every time.”

“No, indeed not,” he said, admiring her beauty before moving upstairs to retire for the evening.

Germaine was the next to leave and bid everyone a good night, followed by Sophie.

Chapter 12

The inhabitants of the chateau settled in for the night. It was quiet with only vague creaks among the wooden floorboards as the great house settled.

Sophie was thinking of the evening. She had been much influenced by the talks with Madame Necker and wanted to write a new pamphlet. Comte de Buffon was correct. She should not simply focus on women and equality. She should focus on the people in general. Things needed to change. She needed to educate herself. Madame Necker had her mind racing and she knew she must learn about what was happening in her own country. She dipped her quill pen into the ink and wrote the items down that Madame Necker had mentioned, making a neat list.

A weak king

Animosity between the classes

Foreign-born queen

Peasant pay taxes but cannot make a living

Costly court

Support of war in America

She looked it over. So many issues that concerned this great nation. Her candle burned bright as she made herself notes. When she heard the knock, she didn’t realize it was at her room until it came again. She took the candle to the door and opened it.

Sebastian stood there, dressed as he had been at dinner.

“I saw the light under your door. May I come in?” he asked politely in a low voice.

Sophie seriously thought of shutting the door in his face but that would be rude. He would not seduce her. Given the chance, he could have done so this morning.

“Someone might see you leaving or entering,” Sophie said as she widened the door.

“I won’t be long.”

She closed the door behind him.

Sophie returned to the desk and he followed. Again he saw the writings on her desk, but this time a small list was included.

“What is this?” He picked up the paper.

“That’s nothing. Just items I was thinking of.” She dismissed it.

He looked over the list again and frowned. This was no simple list of shopping or errands. This was a list of grave concerns currently existing in this country. It was a revolutionary’s list.

He turned to her, serious and concerned. “Sophie, this is a dangerous list.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is a list containing all the reasons why France may be headed toward a revolution.”

“A revolution?!” she whispered.

“Yes. This country is in a state of great unease.” He came to her, placing the paper back on her desk.

“I’m not sure I understand. I want to educate myself, thus the reason for the list. Nothing more.”

“Sophie. I know
who
you are. You can’t do this.”

“What do you mean, you know who I am? That I can’t do this? I can’t educate myself?” she asked.

Sebastian placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling the warm skin and the linen shift underneath his hands.

“Sophie. I know who you are. You can’t
write
about these things.” He was so close she could touch his face and slide her fingers along the cheekbones. She could move her fingers through his hair and—
Wait, what
? she thought.