by Sophia Nash
She did.
The lapping of waves drummed out of his head as the heat of the blood in his veins pounded his temples. She was utterly delicious, all sweet femininity and boundless honest charm. Unconsciously, his hands moved to her luscious breasts and reverently stroked the tips through her modest gown. For the life of him he couldn't remember why he'd ever preferred petite, small-breasted women. Miss Somerset was like a Viking goddess, tall, strong, yet every inch a female. He could feel her quick intake of breath in response and prayed she would not pull away.
She did not.
Oh Lord, she didn't move save for the slightest trembling around her mouth. And then, very slowly, she wrapped her lovely long arms about his neck and he feared he wouldn't be able to hold on to the edges of this charade. Since when had he not been able to control the minutest of his actions in a seduction? He was dazed and slightly out of control. If she knew anything about the nature of a man's arousal, his goose was cooked.
But clearly she did not.
And then truth dawned. She was quite possibly not the fallen spinster everyone assumed. She was using none of the techniques a more seasoned lady performed naturally. She was all hesitant touches and shy maiden despite her ripe curves.
And, he was showing a lamentable lack of finesse. He was seconds away from placing her on the sand, lifting her skirts and committing the most contemptible act of his life. Worse yet, an uncomfortable, heretofore unknown sensation stirred near the cold recesses of his heart.
William had only enough wits about him to gather her up in his arms, walk knee-deep into the sea and abruptly end the lesson by dropping them both into the icy water. He didn't once question why he'd refrained from continuing the seduction, the answer to all his problems.
Sophie was mortified. She sat listening to the ranting of her maid who peeled off her drenched and nearly ruined sandy garments. Sophie never felt closer to tears than at that moment.
She'd humiliated herself to a degree of new heights. Lord William had been so disgusted by her forward behavior that he'd had to cool her ardor by dunking her in the sea. And while her head had been swirling with unleashed emotions, he'd voiced worries about the effects of salt water on boots.
He'd felt nothing when they'd kissed, while she'd been lost in a torrent of sensations. He'd only laughed and said salt water was good for the joints at least and then he'd abruptly halted the lesson.
Yet he'd refused to accept her plea to end the lessons altogether. He'd said they'd both made remarkable progress, and that it was only fair she give him his lesson at the earliest possible convenience.
Sophie shook her head. At least he'd granted her privacy by turning his head when she'd left the water to negotiate the climb back to Villa Belza. And at least he'd given her enough backbone to refuse to allow the medieval corset to ever grace her body again. But she'd lost much in the bargain… her sanity.
When she left London she'd thought her humiliation absolute. Sophie closed her eyes. That wasn't so. Complete mortification required falling in love with a gentleman who could never ever return a measure of her affection.
She knew why he affected her thusly. He possessed more charm than a snake, more beauty than any gentleman or lady had a right to and the most potent ingredient of all—the ability to make her laugh, something no one had accomplished in a long time.
"I must offer you some advice," Karine said, shaking her head, "for you've proved you've not a clue of how to go on."
Sophie roused herself from her reverie. Karine's advice was usually good once the barbs were removed. "Whatever do you mean?"
"You must beware of that gentleman."
"What gentleman?"
The maid made a sound of disgust. "The one you're thinking of right now. The one every female within a hundred miles dreams of. Lord William"— she cackled—"was described in France as something of a—well, something wild and exciting."
"I don't know what you are talking about, Karine."
"Baf, alors," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "You can't fool me, you know. And really there's no need. You have my loyalty." Her maid smiled and resumed her task of wringing the wet garments in the basin. "Why, I've even lied for you. I told the under-footman to bring you a bath because you'd tripped and fallen into the edges of the water. The imbecile believed every word."
"What was he known as in France?"
Karine arched a brow. "Le loup—the wolf. And his elder brother, Viscount Gaston, was le renardthe fox. Some said it was because of their questionable loyalties to Napoleon, others said it was for their amorous conquests." Karine sighed and a dreamy look infused her face. "I can vouch for the appeal of the elder. I had personal experience with that divine gentleman when I was under the employ of a very stupid—uh—a Lady Susan. And my guess is Lord Will is equally devastating in private, if not more so." The petite maid licked her lips and looked at the ceiling, lost in apparent wicked thoughts.
"Why do you say this?"
"Ah, well, the fox, he is a social, cunning creature, is he not? The wolf, on the other hand, is a dangerous loner who runs in packs only when it suits him. And there is a certain attraction to a gentleman like that."
"Karine, I know you mean well, but, frankly I don't think you know Lord William at all. Oh, he might have taken part in the war between England and France. There are many who did. But I'm afraid Lord William isn't what you think."
A knock sounded at the door, signaling the bath water's delivery. Sophie scurried behind the screen. "And where is my cousin this morning?"
"Mr. Mornington and his sisters paid a call. They all decided to take the morning air in the direction of the cliffs."
Chapter Five
IT had been two days since William had inadvertently drunk seawater and sand while observing the delectable Miss Somerset ascend the path homeward in a wet, transparent gown that clung deliciously to her curves.
He smiled in remembrance and motioned his horse into a gallop along the road leading to the small fishing port.
She'd managed to avoid him during those two days although memories of her had not. He couldn't get the image of her out of his mind—her trusting eyes, and her laughter. And she'd provoked emotions he hadn't thought he possessed anymore.
At one point in his life he might have held a bit of romantic drivel in his heart that he had thought passed for that wilting emotion called love. He frowned at the word. But that had been for just a short while. A very short while.
A red fox dashed across the road, making his horse skitter to the side. William brought the gelding immediately back under control.
Mornington had tried to force him to desist his wooing activities when he'd confronted William two evenings ago in the masculine lair of his library.
"I'll not have it. It won't do at all. You were lucky I was able to divert my sisters and Miss Owen's attention from the beach before they spied you and Miss Somerset in that, that heated posture," Mornington had said.
"My friend, you didn't have any scruples about the lady when I first arrived. May I ask you if you are more concerned with your sisters's reactions, Miss Somerset's reputation, or is it your concern for the cousin's tender sensibilities? Is that what prompted this warning?" William had asked.
Mornington's face had turned an interesting shade of scarlet.
"Mon Dieu, it's as I thought. Cupid has flung his arrow and found his mark—and only after what, two or three encounters with the dark beauty? Are you ready to give up the ghost in bachelor's heaven, then?"
He had flustered Mornington almost beyond speech.
His friend had readjusted his cravat and patted his forehead with a handkerchief. "It ain't right, I tell you, for any reason. I won't try to hide anything from you. But I won't allow you to rut about in a careless fashion and ruin lives in the process."
"I'm never careless, Charles. And I promise you I won't ruin anyone's life other than my own. Perhaps I will surprise you."
Mornington had snorted his diss
ent.
But William had meant it.
As his horse negotiated the uneven road on this cloudless day, exhilaration coursed through his veins. Everything was falling flawlessly into place—just like the successful days of old when he and Farquhar had accepted assignments to ferret out informants and thwart Napoleon's missions.
There was something stimulating in the thrill of the chase. Walking the narrow line between success and disaster made victory all the sweeter. His courtship of the heiress was proving more intoxicating than he'd ever imagined.
She was in the cup of William's hand. She was falling in love with him. He was sure. He couldn't have mistaken the look in her eyes. And unbelievably, he was quite possibly falling in—oh, God forbid, he didn't really think that.
He doubted it would ever happen again. Besides, that first time, in retrospect, couldn't really be called anything but a foolish youthful passion. He pushed his horse to gallop faster.
So what was it—that certain yearning for Sophie Somerset, coupled with obsessive thoughts? It was at least a surprise. And he liked surprises. William laughed out loud, startling his horse in the process.
Who would have guessed that it would so conveniently fit into his pressing needs for capital? He would be able to face Mr. Derby, and now Mr. Thompson, and settle all the demands for funds and approve the architectural plans for the bank. His bank. An institution that would resurrect his family's name once again in the highest circles of the beau monde.
Today would be the culmination. He would declare himself, finesse any ruffled feathers over his false appearances, and celebrate their betrothal. And since he wasn't a slow top, he would be damned if he didn't finagle a kiss or perhaps something more into the bargain. Not that he would anticipate the wedding night. He was a gentleman and far too much in command of himself to do that, after all.
The little port of Burnham-by-the-Sea was deserted as all the men who earned their bread via the sea's bounty had cast off in the glowing light of dawn. Sophie readjusted her new full-length fishing coat and again checked to make sure that not an inch of the new pantaloons showed. She had no desire to shock the inhabitants of the village.
But where was Mr. Seymour? The elderly parson had promised so faithfully to go fishing with her today. She wondered if her choice of clothes would overly distress him. Given the amount of donations she had made to the church, she was hopeful he would look the other way when she removed her coat when far from shore.
She turned at the sound of horse hooves on hardened earth.
Lord William dismounted and called a passing boy to his aid. With the toss of a coin, the boy took possession of the reins and led the horse away.
Oh, what was he doing here? And she had been so successful in her efforts to avoid him until now. She tried to appear unruffled by his appearance but feared she was blushing.
"Miss Somerset, I am at your service," he said, bowing. "It seems Mr. Seymour has pressing duties in the parish. I offered to escort you on your fishing expedition to relieve some of the poor man's burden. I do hope that is all right with you, ma'am?"
"Why, yes," she said, attempting to compose herself. "Yes, of course, my lord." Was there no excuse she could invent on short notice? How was a day spent alone with him to be borne? "But, really, I would not inconvenience you. I think I shall wait for another day. And I now remember that Mr. Mornington and Mari mentioned their interest in fishing as well."
"Mornington, spend the day fishing? I don't believe the man has ever set foot in a boat again after becoming violently seasick on his grand tour."
"Oh, I see."
"Now then, do you have everything we will need? Tackle, bait, refreshments?" His eyes held a glint of amusement.
She thought frantically. Before she could reply, he had taken his decision.
"Good. Then we're off." He leaned down to reposition the small boat on the ramp. The next moment, he launched the fishing vessel from the moss-covered slope into the sea. Sophie hopped into it at the last moment, and he followed her, taking up the oars to put some distance from the shore.
"I thought this might be the perfect opportunity, chérie," he said, "for your promised lessons on, let's see—Character, Distaste for dandies, and wasn't it also, the Error of my ways?"
She found he was looking directly at her when she dared to raise her eyes. His eyes crinkled in the corners.
"Why yes, that would be an excellent topic for today, my lord."
"Do you think you could find it in your heart to call me 'William'? 'My lord' sounds so… so formal. We've become great friends, haven't we?"
"Perhaps, but I think I'd better not. I shall try to avoid any use of your name at all, in future, as I don't want to offend."
He was rowing with expert dexterity. Evidently, he had spent a good deal of time around boats. It was in conflict with his usual dandyish existence. But now that she had somewhat regained her wits she noticed he was dressed in much more somber, practical clothing than usual.
It was unmercifully hot. He stopped rowing for a moment to peel off his bottle green coat.
She felt awkward, watching him work the oars. The great muscles in his tall frame strained against his shirt. And the muscles in his long legs… well, they were straining too. Sophie forced herself to look at the water. She dragged her hand alongside the boat to cool herself.
"Chérie, the sun is blazing. Really, you should remove that heavy coat," he said.
"I'm perfectly comfortable, my lord."
"You're afraid to show me your pantaloons, then. There's no need to be embarrassed. I'm well familiar with your female form already and you've nothing to fear from me. Truly, I've your best interests at heart." He sported a poorly disguised sly grin.
Wretched man. "Why am I not surprised by your lamentable lack of talent in putting a lady at ease?"
He laughed.
The heat and humidity was causing William's lawn shirt to stick to the contours of his broadly muscled chest. All at once she was dizzy. Perhaps it was the heat, more likely it was the sudden remembrance of his chiseled, steaming form, naked from the bath.
In disgust, she took off her coat. "Ah, chérie, that's much better. And it also serves to increase my desire—"
She inhaled sharply.
"—to finish the job of rowing to the cove." He winked at her. "If I really wanted to embarrass you, I'd tell you that you look like the goddess Diana the Huntress in those delightfully snug pantaloons."
Sophie couldn't think of a single way to lead him off the topic and sincerely hoped silence would do the trick.
He'd put a good deal of distance between them and the shore and finally they were within a few oar strokes of the cove.
"Do you know if the fishing is good here?" she asked.
"I have the port master's word on it," he replied. "It also has the added benefit of being secluded. And I'm in need of a private audience with you."
What?
"I beg your pardon?" What was he about? Oh, why couldn't he be serious and refrain from ridiculous innuendo?
"Patience, chérie, patience."
He stopped rowing suddenly. They drifted among the small swells, wavelets lapping against the sides of the little boat.
She reached for one of the fishing rods.
"No, you must hear me out now, my darling, for I've something of importance to tell you. Then you shall have your day of fishing, if you desire it still." His lips curved into the familiar devastating smile.
Sophie shivered. My darling?
And then Lord Will leaned forward to grasp her hands in his own. They were warm and very solid.
"Sophie, darling," he murmured. "Surely, you have guessed that I've become… fond of you?"
At the use of her given name, a flutter of excitement shook her. He was playing a game, trying to make her laugh.
"You are deliciously refreshing," he continued. "Truly a lady different in almost every respect from other females I've known. Your goodness, indeed, your char
acter, and your courage and honesty intrigue me."
Sophie finally dared look him full in the face again. His deep voice, and heavy-lidded eyes resonated her senses.
"In fact"—he arched an eyebrow—"I do believe, I'm fall— No, I cannot say such romantic nonsense in daylight. And I doubt an impassioned, overused sentiment will make you swoon into my arms." He lowered his voice. "You shall just have to wait to hear it under the covers." His dimples appeared alongside his dazzling white smile and he winked.
What?
Lord William tilted his head and waited. "I do believe this is the part where you're supposed to throw your arms about me and declare your undying love in return, chérie," he said. "But I suppose it's too much to ask in this unsteady vessel."
Surely, she imagined what he'd just said. His lips had moved, but he couldn't have implied he was in love with her. Her body grew cold despite the sun.
"Perhaps," he continued, "you're convinced my character is so beyond salvation that I'm proposing marriage in an attempt to win our little wager? Chérie, I would be more than willing to wear fisherman's rags in Hyde Park for at the least, let's say, a week—although I hope you would take pity before that—if you do me the honor of becoming my wife."
Sophie recovered sufficiently to speak. "Your wife?" she asked faintly.
He leaned forward and patted her hand before cupping her face with his warm fingers. "My darling, I hadn't thought it would be such a shock. Had you not guessed of my change of heart?"
"But what of Mr. Farquhar?" she asked.
"Why, he'll be delighted when I tell him."
"But I thought you and he were…" No she would not, could not, say it.
"Were what, chérie?"
She stared at him.
"Did you assume we had more than just a servant-master connection? Hmmmm, and I was just remarking on your excellent character. I've known Jack Farquhar for over a decade and a half, my darling. We met at a most provident time, when we were both independently captured during a mission. I discovered Farquhar's excellent acting abilities and devious mind—both very useful when we decided to join forces working in secret for the Crown."
