Harlequin Historical May 2020--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sophia James

  The mantel clock ticking companionably in the silence showed past ten and, despite the unease in her stomach, Sophia felt her eyes growing heavier. The day had been long and draining in its high emotion and, with a nervous glance at the cottage’s front door, she rose to her feet. Fell should have returned long ago; something must have happened to delay him and sitting up all night in front of a cold fire would do nothing to dispel the apprehension making a nuisance of itself. She might as well retire to bed and await her fate in comfort, she thought as she crossed the darkening room—if not with an easy mind.

  * * *

  By the time a quiet knock came on the bedchamber door Sophia’s eyelids had drooped and the first whisper of sleep had begun to call softly, but the gentle tap sliced through the silence like a knife and she sat up at once, heart leaping to bound inside the confines of her ribs.

  ‘Fell?’

  The door opened, the tell-tale squeak of the hinges barely audible to Sophia above the sudden rush of blood in her ears as Fell stepped noiselessly inside, carrying a guttering candle that cast rippling shadows across his tawny face.

  ‘I’m sorry I was away for so long. Everything that could have gone wrong did and there was no possibility of me leaving before now.’

  Sophia nodded, her throat contracting into a tight knot and her pulse skipping as Fell placed the candle beside the bed and peered at her through the gloom, odd eyes glittering in the feeble light.

  ‘Are you well?’

  Again, no words were willing to present themselves and Sophia could only incline her head in what she hoped was agreement. Beneath the scrutiny of Fell’s mismatched gaze her nightgown felt curiously inadequate to shield her, too thin to hide the lines of her body from him, yet she couldn’t summon the power to haul a blanket up to cover herself. In the heat of the summer night she’d kicked them away, so it was with nothing but a wisp of linen between them that Sophia watched her new husband begin to unbutton his now rumpled shirt.

  ‘I can’t pretend that’s how I imagined we’d spend our wedding day—you alone here and me up to my elbows in things I don’t think you’d appreciate my describing.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ Sophia finally managed to croak out. Possibly she should have ventured something more, but her attention was too fixed on the downward progress of Fell’s hands on the buttons of his shirt to muster a better response. With each movement another sliver of hard chest was unveiled, a mesmerising display Sophia couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from. The dull beat of her pulse increased another notch, racing against itself as finally the shirt hung loose and Fell shrugged it off with a roll of his sculpted shoulders.

  ‘Even so, I’ll find a way to make it up to you. Not the best of starts for a marriage, I think you’ll agree.’

  Fell flicked her a smile that made any chance of reply impossible and bent to take off his boots. Once those were removed all that would be left to follow were his breeches…a realisation that sent Sophia hurriedly curling on to her side with her eyes set firmly on the wall beside her head and blessing the darkness of the room to hide her scarlet cheeks.

  In the light of the dancing candle Fell glowed like a bronze statue, shifting shadows playing across the peaks and valleys of work-honed muscle and tempting Sophia to stare with unladylike fascination. Once the breeches joined the shirt crumpled on the floor there would be nothing left to hide, a thought both intriguing and terrifying that dried her throat as though she’d thirsted for a week.

  There came the sound of final rustling behind her and then the bedchamber was plunged into full gloom with the extinguishing of the candle. Sophia felt the mattress dip as another body lay down on it and closed her eyes briefly in a silent prayer for the wisdom to know what on earth to do next.

  They lay together, neither speaking into the silent night. Sophia felt every sinew tense as she listened for any movement at her back, any tell-tale sign of her husband’s approach, but the unfamiliar warmth of another person in her bed was the only indication of his presence, creeping towards her to run a soft finger down the length of her spine as she waited, barely breathing, for his advance.

  But none came.

  Sophia allowed the moment to stretch out like a delicate thread, pulled tight as a bowstring in the quiet room. The only sound was that of Fell’s steady breathing, its calm regularity something Sophia envied as her own breaths came shallow and swift.

  Is something amiss?

  With an unpleasant thrill it suddenly occurred to her that he might not even be intending to make an advance—a mortifying thought that made her freeze further. Could it be he shied away from the idea, steeling himself to do something he had no desire for? Her mind reeled back to revisit the church, when he had taken her in his arms and set his lips across hers to send a burst of wild flame beneath her heated skin. He hadn’t seemed disgusted then at least, something that should give her courage; so with her heart in her throat she forced herself to roll over and turn to him in the darkness, cutting the bowstring of silence with stubbornly swallowed fear.

  ‘You needn’t worry for me. I know what we must do.’

  She could have sworn she heard the raising of a dubious eyebrow.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Of course. To secure our marriage so nobody may try to unpick it later. And I remember my promise to you…the children.’

  There was a pause. Now her eyes had grown used to the darkness Sophia could just make out the shape of Fell’s fine profile silhouetted against the moonlit curtain, his firm jaw and curling black hair making her fingers clench on the desire to reach out and touch.

  ‘I know you’re still a maid. I didn’t want to frighten you and I know this must be a difficult step. For a lady to lie with a blacksmith…’ He tailed off, the outline of one solid arm coming up to rest behind his head and throw the contours of his chest into hypnotic relief. Lying this close was a temptation like nothing Sophia had ever known, her hands itching to trace the geography of muscles she’d so far only been able to stare at with eyes that refused to turn away.

  ‘I’m not afraid.’ Her voice rose a little on the obvious lie and she heard the soft swish of Fell’s hair on his pillow as he turned his head in her direction.

  When he spoke it was so gently the nape of her neck prickled with sensuous delight. ‘It needn’t be a duty, something you dread. It’s necessary for the reasons you gave, aye, but if you allow me I can show you there are far worse things to endure. You might even find you enjoy it.’ He stopped, seeming to want to say something more—and then every nerve in Sophia’s tense frame exploded with sensation as a warm hand found hers and the thumb swept across her knuckles to leave a blaze of heat in its wake. ‘May I?’

  Sophia bit back a gasp at the touch of his skin, reigniting the fire that had leapt within her at his kiss in the church. The embers of it had glowed in her stomach ever since and now, with every pass of his thumb over the sensitive ridge of her knuckles, the ashes were stirred back into crackling flames that burned her from within. She stared wide-eyed through the gloom, just able to make out Fell’s equally intense gaze locked on her face—and spoke the only word necessary to unleash the full force of the conflagration’s fury.

  ‘Yes.’

  As soon as the word dropped from her lips Fell’s hand was on her waist, his palm pressed to the warm curve draped in thin linen. His thumb now brushed the lowermost rib that encased her pounding heart and the movement would have made her sigh had Sophia not gritted her teeth to restrain it.

  For a moment she was afraid Fell had heard how her heart slammed against her breastbone with each beat, for he stilled with his hand in place and his eyes seeking hers in the darkness.

  ‘I’ll not hurt you, Sophia. You can trust me for that, if nothing else.’

  She tried to reply, to find some answer for the reassurance so unexpected and touching, but the strong fingers had found their
way to her back and were drifting over the joints of her spine like explorers traversing a strange land. Their relentless march moved higher, capturing the crest of her shoulder and along the white length of her neck to trail sparks behind them, not stopping until they reached her cheek and cupped it with gentleness it still surprised her to find Fell possessed. She couldn’t help a shiver then, knowing what was to come next—but it was one of pleasure, not disgust, and when Fell’s lips came down to touch hers every other thought was chased from her mind to leave behind only the instinctive desire for more.

  Her arms reached for him as if they had a will of their own and something inside her leaped at the low rumble she heard come from his throat as her hands made contact with his bare chest. It was warm, and hard, and so broad Sophia could hardly comprehend it, the terrain beneath her fingertips sculpted by hammer and fire no pampered gentleman could boast. His other hand slid between her waist and the mattress and pulled her closer, shrinking the gap between them, but not for a moment breaking the movement of their questing lips.

  Like two halves of the same puzzle they fitted against each other with effortless ease, legs tangling in the blankets kicked to the end of the bed, but neither with a thought to spare for something so irrelevant as comfort when the most primitive longing seized each in its grasp and squeezed until both sets of lungs were burning.

  Somewhere, shoved into the darkest recess of Sophia’s pleasure-drunk mind, a note of caution attempted to battle against the blissful dance of Fell’s lips on her tingling skin.

  Perhaps some restraint might be better.

  The voice was almost lost in the roar of blood that coursed through her veins as Fell’s hand slipped from her waist to cradle the intimate plane of her lower back and draw her closer still.

  Recall this is a necessity for him and not a choice. It would be unwise to show true depth of feeling when it cannot be returned.

  The voice was right. Of course it was. The murmured warning rang true, but Fell chose that particular moment to deepen the kiss and drink Sophia in as though she was all he needed to stay alive, a lifeline for a desperate man with nowhere else to turn. Try as she might to heed the cautious mutter, Sophia couldn’t stop her mouth from opening wider to allow the tip of Fell’s tongue to trace its contours, a skilful flutter that dragged a gasp from her and set him smiling against her flushed lips. It was a mistake to display her longing for his touch so brazenly, pitted as it was against the knowledge no man would care for her if he knew the truth of what damage she’d wrought all those years before, yet all good sense fled from her as she trembled in the blissful prison of Fell’s arms as though she suffered from an ague.

  He drew back and she caught the vague shape of his hand moving to run through his tousled hair, the breath she felt on her cheek now fast and uneven. She could smell the good scent of him, the unique clean musk of a man closer and less decently dressed than ever before, and the stirring in her innards increased tenfold.

  ‘Can I—?’

  Fell’s voice was low and hoarse, the want in it making every hair stand on end as he took the hem of Sophia’s thin nightgown in his fingers. Even in the depths of her desire some part of her marvelled at his restraint, this consideration for her feelings surely few men would show in the grip of such a moment, and she could do nothing but nod wordlessly for him to continue his breathless exploration of her unmapped skin.

  He drew her nightgown up over the swell of her hips, following its progress with the softest graze of his fingertips that made Sophia buck quite unconsciously against the granite column of his body. One hand still anchored the small of her back, making escape impossible, but Sophia had no wish to flee the sensations that overcame her as with a fluid movement Fell slipped the gown over her head and flung it in the vague direction of the floor.

  With nothing now between them Sophia heard Fell’s ragged sigh, the untamed sound of it tearing at her and sending fresh heat to shatter any last thought of restraint. Both arms came around her now, Fell’s lips seeking her own once more with renewed passion that would have taken her breath away had she any to spare, and she gloried in the scalding pressure of his hard chest on hers. Every movement, every heartbeat, every breath brought her closer to the man she’d watched for weeks with a growing fondness for which she’d had no name—but as she lay with him in the warm night with his hands drifting to count her ribs she knew what it was.

  I think I may be starting to love him.

  She stilled, eyes flaring open in the darkness to make Fell’s fingers pause in their journey sliding upwards across her heaving ribs towards somewhere much more interesting.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  She heard the note of concern managing to fight its way through the fog of Fell’s desire, his consideration for her comfort only reinforcing her sudden realisation. Even with a naked woman in his arms his courtesy won out, his worry for her so unfamiliar, yet the very thing she’d longed to experience since she was a little girl.

  ‘Shall I stop?’

  Sophia hesitated, the new truth she couldn’t deny ringing alarm bells to chime above all other thought. She was playing with fire now, walking a fine line between keeping her promise to Fell and allowing her blossoming feelings to hold sway and surrender to the pleasure of being held in his strong arms. A truly sensible woman would break free, put distance between herself and the man who would never love her back—but instead with all the courage she possessed Sophia took Fell’s hand and placed it where her heart fluttered like a bird in a cage.

  ‘No.’

  I can worry about that in the morning. For now, I just wish to enjoy tonight.

  * * *

  With hazy sunlight filtering through the curtained window Fell buried his nose further into the heap of rose-scented hair spilling across his pillow. The warm shape in his arms stirred and without thinking he gathered it closer against his chest, fingers skimming a soft-skinned stomach that quivered at his touch. Usually Charity would giggle at his tickling fingertips, but this morning she seemed strangely quiet beneath his wandering hands…

  Because it isn’t her.

  Fell’s eyes snapped open to take in the dyed black tresses and glowing face of Sophia, worlds apart from the last woman he had awakened beside. She peeped up at him from amid the rumpled blankets, uncertainty flickering in the depths of her sea-glass eyes as she scanned his for any clue as to his thoughts.

  I’m glad she can’t see into my mind. I’m not sure she’d appreciate what she found there.

  His pulse skipped faster as the events of the night shuffled themselves back into order and presented themselves to him again, a flicker of disbelief underlining each memory that passed through. Opening the bedchamber door to see Sophia’s candle-lit face peering back at him from the bed; how her eyes had stretched wide with flattering—and unexpected—fascination as he unbuttoned his shirt; the soft words she’d murmured to give him leave to approach and finally…

  Finally, quite frankly the purest, most natural experience of his life, when his uncertain new wife had melted like butter into his embrace and he had felt her beneath him, all around him, everywhere as though consumed by her essence. She’d kept the promise he had wondered if she would be able to endure and gone further than he ever could have dreamed, her breathy sighs and the sensation of short nails gripping his shoulders coming back to him to stir his insides. He could still feel their sharp pinch now, lying in the warm untidiness of the messy bed—but that wasn’t what bothered him as he mustered a smile for his waiting bride.

  I think I’m in trouble.

  A new feeling was slowly rising, gradual but insistent as a dripping tap. Just like a stray drop of water the puddle was small now, but left unchecked it would spread and deepen until it became a river and, the same as Fell’s weakness for Sophia, after last night in real danger of becoming a flood. Her sweet surrender to him in the darkness might be the fi
nal nail in the coffin of his determination to remain immune to her unwitting charms—for his own good.

  ‘Good morning. Did you sleep well?’

  Sophia’s cheeks flared, the dusky colour calling for Fell to run a finger over their softness as he had only hours before as she clung to him in wordless abandon. The thought made the stirring in his innards all the more intense and he had to take a moment to collect himself before he replied.

  ‘I did. It’s a welcome change to sleep in a bed again after weeks on the forge floor.’

  A hesitant smile curved Sophia’s lips and she tucked the blanket round her a little tighter, fastidious as any lady arranging an expensive gown. ‘Well. You won’t have to go back to doing that now, I think.’

  It was an innocent enough remark, but one that found its way through his defences like an arrow to a target. She spoke as a real wife would to her husband, as if sharing a bed was the most normal thing in the world, and once again Fell was assailed by the surprise that overwhelmed him when he woke to find Sophia nestled in his arms.

  She isn’t repulsed by my presence—not now and not last night. She had every reason to find our intimacy unpleasant and yet…unless she’s a very good actress, she seems…curiously unmoved…

  Slowly more details of the hours before dawn crept back to filter into Fell’s mind, a procession of pictures and sensations he had to take care didn’t show on his face. It was true—Sophia hadn’t been disgusted by his approach, only a little shy as might be expected of any maiden, and had even seemed to respond in kind to the advances he’d ventured. He could scarcely believe how natural it had felt to embrace her, carefully drawing her out with gentle caresses to make her sigh—he’d held himself in readiness to stop at her command, but it hadn’t come, instead allowing him liberties he never dared dream he might be granted. A more sentimental man might wonder if somehow, against all the odds stacked against them, they might have forged a connection in the warm summer night—but the idea of such a thing was too tempting to allow. Surely only disappointment awaited Fell if he continued down that path?