‘My God!’ her father gasped as he saw the painting for the first time, then he walked over to it, a look of disbelief in his eyes. Sophie could see the pain in his face as he turned back to look at her. ‘Sophie?’ his voice came out in a choked whisper.
She swallowed hard. ‘I—’
‘Sophie is not to blame,’ Luke spoke again. ‘She did not know of the painting either.’
Her father’s face was flushed with anger as he looked at the younger man. ‘It isn’t a question of whether or not she knew of it, I want to know whether she sat for it, whether you’ve actually seen my daughter—my daughter naked like this!’
‘Whether I have or have not—’
‘The birthmark, Simon,’ her stepmother interrupted. ‘It’s exactly right.’
‘My God!’ her father groaned again, slumping down on the bed. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he ran a tired hand over his eyes. ‘I just can’t believe it!’
Sophie shook off Luke’s arm and ran to kneel at her father’s feet, her eyes pleading. ‘It wasn’t like that, Daddy,’ she clutched at his hand. ‘I—Luke—We—’ What could she say? It wasn’t like it looked, but there was no denying that Luke had seen the birthmark over her heart, that he had perhaps seen some of the provocative invitation shown in the painting too.
‘We may have been slightly impetuous,’ Luke finished for her. ‘But love has a way of making one do these things.’ His shrug was pure Latin in origin.
‘You’re in love with Sophie?’ her stepmother demanded.
Luke met the sneer in Rosemary’s eyes with cool haughtiness. ‘Have I not just said so?’
‘No, you—’
‘For goodness’ sake, Rosemary,’ her husband snapped. ‘If Sophie has—if things have gone this far between them,’ he waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the painting, ’then of course they must be in love. Sophie isn’t promiscuous and never has been.’ He stood up. ‘I think tempers are a little frayed,’ he said in a more controlled voice. ‘This could be better discussed in the morning, when we’re all a little less heated.’
‘I think you are right,’ Luke nodded agreement. ‘This is not the way I would have wished you to know of my desire to marry your daughter.’
‘No,’ Simon gave a strained smile. ‘It’s been a shock, but I understand—at least, I think I do.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ his wife said shrilly. ‘That painting is absolutely disgusting!’ Her nose wrinkled with distaste. ‘I trust you weren’t about to sell it to us, Luke.’
‘Hardly,’ he said mockingly. ‘The family portrait is in the other room, this one was meant for me alone.’
‘Then why bring it down here?’ she demanded.
‘I was hoping to complete it tomorrow.’
‘But—’
‘Leave it, Rosemary,’ her husband ordered. ‘Let’s get to bed while there’s still some night left. Be back in your room in five minutes, Sophie,’ he added sternly. ‘No matter what may have passed before, you are not staying in here with Luke.’
She kept her head bowed. ‘No, Daddy.’
‘You’re surely not leaving them here alone, Simon?’ her stepmother demanded stubbornly.
‘Come along, Rosemary,’ he steered her firmly out of the room. ‘It’s a little late in the day to be worrying about Sophie’s reputation.’
‘Really, Simon, we can’t just—’
‘Not now, Rosemary,’ and he closed the door behind them.
Sophie could still hear her stepmother protesting, although their voices were becoming weaker as they went back to their own bedrooms. She looked up at Luke. ‘Why did you do it?’ she choked, her misery a tangible thing.
‘I have already explained that the painting was not meant for any other eyes but my own.’
‘I didn’t necessarily mean the painting, I meant all of it. It’s bad enough that that should exist,’ she blushed as she once again looked at the likeness of herself, ’but that you should tell my father we want to get married…!’
‘What else could I have told him? That your stepmother did not find us here together but that it was the other way round, his wife and myself?’ His eyes were chillingly cruel. ‘Which do you think would have hurt him more, his daughter in my bedroom or his wife?’
She swallowed hard, feeling sick. ‘But marriage…!’
‘A little drastic perhaps, but the only thing that would placate your father in such a situation. You are an only child, the apple of your father’s eyes, so to speak, he would not be able to accept such evidence of our lovemaking without knowing it was to be legalised.’
‘But we haven’t—’ she broke off, embarrassed.
‘No,’ he agreed mockingly. ‘But the painting tells another story.’
Sophie forced herself to look at it, at this stripping of her very soul until she felt she held nothing back from him. ‘How did you—’ she took a deep breath. ‘How do you—’
‘How do I know you will look like this after lovemaking?’ He shrugged. ‘Imagination is a wonderful thing. And it is not all imagination,’ he added throatily. ‘As your stepmother was quick to notice, some of it is all too lifelike.’
Like the birthmark on her left breast! ’And what do we tell them in the morning? How do we explain—’
‘Explain what?’ he cut in harshly.
‘That you don’t want to marry me.’
‘I am not averse to the idea.’
‘Well, I am!’ she said indignantly. ‘You aren’t my idea of a husband. You—you’re totally immoral, have women by the dozen.’
‘Hardly the dozen, Sophie,’ he mocked. ‘And what else do you suggest we do? The last time I was here you told me I was never to hurt your father, and I am endeavouring not to do so. I could have told him the truth, but I think by doing so I would have been ridiculing a man I respect and admire. He perhaps allows his wife too much freedom, but—’
‘And that’s another thing,’ she said heatedly. ‘My stepmother came to your room tonight, would I be expected to take second place to her if I were your—your wife?’ The word seemed to stick in her throat.
‘There would be no other women unless you forced me into their arms,’ he answered her coldly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘If I am kept satisfied in my own bed I will not seek out the pleasure to be found in others,’ he told her calmly. ‘A man rarely strays if he is finding fulfilment with his own wife.’
Sophie gulped. ‘You mean you would expect me—that we would—’
‘We would share a bed as well as a home,’ he taunted. ‘I could not live in such close proximity with a woman and not want her, and although we are not in love we do desire each other.’
‘And how long would I have to stay married to you?’ She didn’t attempt to deny the desire, she would only be fooling herself if she did. She certainly wouldn’t fool Luke!
‘My religion does not allow divorce.’
‘You mean—you mean it would be for ever?’
His mouth turned back. ‘We could perhaps lead seperate lives if our desire ever becomes satiated. Do you doubt that I want you?’
One glance at the painting was enough to show her he did, it had been painted through the eyes of a man aroused and wanting. It made her blush to think of him experiencing such desire on her account. ‘No,’ she finally said huskily.
‘Tell me, how did your experiment with Nicholas go this afternoon?’
Her mouth tightened at his mockery. ‘Exactly as you said it would,’ she admitted crossly.
‘Englishmen do not have enough fire for you, Sophie,’ Luke said seriously. ‘We Italians do not spend our lives wondering about the flame of desire, we clasp it with both hands, even if we get burnt occasionally.’
She didn’t need to be told of his prowess as a lover, she already knew it. ‘And what happens when the flame goes out?’ she asked.
He raised dark eyebrows. ‘I do not envisage that happening between us.’
‘But if it-doe
s?’ she persisted.
‘Come here,’ he ordered throatily, pulling her roughly against the hard contours of his body. He slowly bent his head to tease her lips apart with the sensuous tip of his tongue, the open warmth of his mouth engulfing her as he had engulfed her once before, making her feel as one with him already.
She was breathless when he at last released her, looking very much as she did in the painting, she felt sure, completely wanton, in fact. ‘Luke… Luke?’ she questioned huskily. ‘Is that really your name?’ It didn’t sound very Italian to her.
He nibbled her earlobe, feeling the shiver of pleasure that ran through her body. ‘Luciano,’ he supplied, looking down at her with teasing eyes. ‘You expected it to be Lucifer, perhaps?’
Sophie blushed. ‘No, I—’
He gave a throaty laugh, putting her away from him and securing his robe more securely about his waist. ‘I am well aware of your antagonism to me on anything but a physical level, but it does not bother me.’
‘Meaning you only want my body,’ she snapped, stung by his attitude.
‘I do not need to marry you to get that.’ His face was a shuttered mask. ‘We are marrying because after tonight your father expects it. The fact that we are not averse to each other is—’
‘A bonus,’ she sneered.
‘I was not about to say that,’ his voice became more accented in his anger. ‘Oh, go to bed, Sophie. We can talk in the morning when you are feeling more reasonable.’
‘There doesn’t seem to be a lot left to say.’ All the fight had gone out of her. ‘I can’t hurt my father, and the truth would do that.’
‘I am glad you can see that.’
‘Oh, I can see it, but whatever there was between you and my stepmother stops right now,’ she added fiercely.
‘Whatever there was has already stopped,’ he said haughtily.
‘And that—that painting, I don’t want to see it again.’
‘I do not think you are in a position to make conditions,’ Luke said coolly. ‘Although if it pleases you I will humour you in this one thing. But do not issue orders to me again, Sophie. You will find I react better to—persuasion.’
‘Are you threatening me? Please me or I tell your father the truth?’
He looked at her coldly. ‘I have no doubts about your pleasing me, you cannot help yourself. I was merely pointing out that you are not doing me any favours by becoming my wife, rather it is the other way round.’
He had her beaten and she knew it. ‘I’ll try never to forget it,’ she said sarcastically before slamming out of the room.
This was disastrous. She had followed her stepmother in all innocence and now found herself in a position where she was having to marry a man she barely knew, a man with plenty of sexual magnetism but no heart.
She slept fitfully, waking early to dress and go for a walk to try and clear her head. She loved the countryside around here and would miss it all when she and Luke were married and living in London. She hunched over in her depression, resigned to her fate but not welcoming it.
Life with Luke wasn’t going to be easy, especially as she was weak towards him physically, but she could see no other solution to their problem. If her father knew what had really happened last night he would be hurt beyond healing. This way he was still hurt, but it was a hurt he would get over in time. Besides, there was the damning evidence of that painting.
She looked up as a horse and rider galloped across the field towards her, the rider known to her. Nicholas! She didn’t know how she was going to face him after the exhibition she had made of herself yesterday.
He seemed to feel no embarrassment, as he jumped down from the horse’s back to walk beside her. ‘You’re about early,’ he smiled.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she mumbled, her hands in the wide pockets of her navy blue skirt, the light blue blouse she wore complementing it perfectly. ‘And it’s such a lovely morning.’ She had noticed that much even in her despair.
‘I was going to call you last night,’ his voice lowered intimately, ’but then I thought it would be better to come and see you today. I—I let you down yesterday and I want to explain.’
‘Don’t let’s talk about it,’ she interrupted hurriedly. ‘I don’t know why I acted like that with you.’
‘But we have to talk about it. I want to marry you, Sophie.’
‘No!’ she denied sharply.
He didn’t seem to notice her shudder as he put his arm about her shoulders. ‘But I do. I’ve always wanted to marry you, you know that.’
‘You don’t understand, Nicholas. I—’
‘What Sophie is trying to say,’ cut in a coldly angry voice, ’and not doing a very good job of it, I might add, is that she could not even contemplate marrying you when she has already consented to be my wife.’
Sophie looked at Luke with resignation. It was almost as if she had known he would interrupt them at this time, almost as if he had already taken over her life.
Nicholas looked astounded, his arm dropping away from her shoulders. ‘You have to be kidding,’ he said uncertainly.
Luke came to stand beside Sophie. ‘Marriage is not something I would joke about. It is not a subject I find remotely amusing.’
Especially as the situation had been forced on them both. Sophie could understand Luke’s anger.
Nicholas looked bewildered. ‘But the two of you can’t be getting married! Why, only yesterday—’
She felt herself pulled against the hard contours of Luke’s body, his arm across her back, his hand resting possessively just below her breast. ‘Sophie was fighting the inevitable yesterday,’ he told the younger man. ‘We had argued and she hit out at me by running to you.’
‘Oh?’ Nicholas was red with embarrassment. ‘But this is all rather sudden, isn’t it?’
‘It sometimes happens like that,’ Luke replied stiffly, and Sophie could feel the anger in his taut body. ‘Your mother and father are expecting us back for breakfast,’ he informed her, still in that stilted voice.
‘Oh yes,’ Nicholas realised he had been dismissed and remounted his horse. ‘I should be getting back myself.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘Let him go, Sophie!’ Luke said grimly.
She glanced up again and again to his dark forbidding face as they walked back to the house. His arm had fallen away from her waist as soon as they were out of sight of Nicholas, his mouth a thin angry line.
‘You will never do that again,’ he finally snapped, his eyes hard with anger.
She gave him a nervous look. ‘Do what again?’
‘Arrange to meet another man,’ he bit out forcefully. ‘I will not permit it. If I have to prove to you once again that you are mine then I will do so here and now.’ He held her against the hardness of his body, bruising her soft flesh with his deliberate cruelty. His mouth clamped down on hers with one thought in mind, to punish her. His face was triumphant as he looked down at her, conscious of her response to him even in his anger. ‘You are mine,’ he told her arrogantly.
‘I don’t belong to anyone!’ She fought to regain some of her old defiance.
His mouth twisted with cruel humour, openly taunting her. ‘You will belong to me.’
‘But I don’t at the moment.’ She pushed against his chest to release herself, able to breathe easier when she was apart from the seduction of his body.
‘That does not mean you can arrange to meet another man as soon as my back is turned. I would take you now if I thought your rebellious nature would drive you into giving yourself to another man before we are married.’
‘You’re an arrogant swine! I did not arrange to meet Nicholas, we met quite by accident. And how do you know I haven’t already taken a lover? You said yourself that I enjoyed the pleasure I can get from my body.’
‘But it will be pleasure only I give you.’
‘Are you sure?’ she taunted.
One of his hands spanned the slender width of her wrist, making her
gasp with pain. ‘Have you ever had a lover?’
He seemed more foreign in his anger and he frightened her a little. He usually treated her with amused tolerance, letting her taunts wash over him, but his attitude had changed to one of possession, of ownership.
‘You’re hurting me, Luke!’ she cried, trying without success to remove his hand.
‘Did you not know that pain can sometimes be as pleasurable as making love?’ he scorned.
She bit her bottom lip to stop from crying out. ‘Not this sort of pain. Please, Luke, let me go!’
‘Ah—please,’ his grip relaxed slightly. ‘You plead very prettily. Have you taken a lover, Sophie?’ he repeated abruptly. ‘And I want the truth. I will know soon enough, anyway,’ he added with taunting anticipation.
She coloured at his implication, shaking off his hand completely. ‘Then it will give you something to think about.’ She walked off towards the house, the short distance suddenly seeming much longer as she tried not to break into a run.
Luke swung her round. ‘You will answer me!’
Her eyes flashed deeply violet. ‘Why should I?’ she challenged.
‘Will you come to me a virgin?’ he demanded.
‘Will you?’
‘Do not be ridiculous!’
‘Oh, I see,’ she scorned. ‘It’s all right for you to have been with other women, but I’m not allowed the same privilege as far as other men are concerned.’
‘That was not what I meant.’
‘Then what did you mean? That your experience was necessary? That you had to be the lover of all those women?’
‘There have not been as many as the press reported.’ His mouth twisted.
‘If only half the stories were true you’ve had enough to form a harem!’
He scowled. ‘I am thirty-eight and I have a normal appetite for sex, nothing more.’
‘But I’m not allowed the same appetite?’
‘Not before marriage.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘The way you and men like you go through the female population you’re expecting a lot, to expect to marry a virgin!’
‘But I will be, will I not?’ His taunting humour was back.
Flame of Desire Page 8
