On the surface, it was all for the benefit of searching eyes and gossiping tongues watching them but he felt himself being pulled into a domestic world that he wanted to enjoy with her. Would she ever dare even consider returning with him to Arabia to fulfill his duties as the next sheik? Would that be possible? God willing, it would not be for many more years, but it would happen nonetheless. He would never forsake his father and his duty. Would she ever consider making the journey with him and making a life there?
***
Inspector Vennard had easily found the home of Sebastian Fairfax and watched as Sophie Gauvreau, nee Fairfax, moved into the home with her new husband. Nothing of interest had occurred since that day. She lived in his home and both went about their business. He noticed at night when candles were required that two separate rooms appeared lit from outside. Though separate bedrooms were not uncommon in the upper classes, he thought it odd that a newlywed couple did not share the same bedroom.
If a virile young man had recently married a beautiful young woman, he would at least share her bed for several months before getting her with child and retiring to his own chambers.
But that the newly married couple were already sleeping in separate rooms was a thought that he turned over in his mind.
He followed the couple to the theater and watched as they mingled with others. He recognized several of the people, including the owner of a brothel that was well known in Paris for its lovely clean girls, its exclusivity and its prominent members.
He wondered how well the madam was acquainted with Monsieur Fairfax and knew that she could be a useful tool against the man if ever he decided to go down that route. In the meantime, he was content to watch the couple from afar.
The newly wedded husband seemed devoted to his young bride. He spent much of the play gazing at her and touching her while she seemed enraptured in the play and oblivious to all around her.
He watched them quietly in the darkened theater and knew that since the marriage had been performed there had been no more pamphlets. He was certain a spoiled woman like Sophie, used to getting her way, would pick up the quill pen again. He doubted that the husband had forbidden her from writing.
He would continue to watch in silence. Sophie was the key and he would use her to further his ambition.
***
Juliette had not been startled by Sophie. She had always known that Sebastian would marry well and that she would be a beauty. She had been intrigued by the reason Sebastian had given for marrying her: the woman was in danger. How could a lovely, intelligent woman who had a powerful father and now an equally powerful husband be in danger?
She would never ask Sebastian about Sophie. She knew in her line of business that men preferred little talk and should only be questioned when they brought it up. A truly gifted courtesan was adept at using her tongue in a multitude of ways but conversation was chief among them.
She would wait for Sebastian to come to her. If it was truly a marriage of convenience, as he had said himself, he would become sexually frustrated soon enough and would visit her bed again. She didn’t mind. She had never been promised love and Sebastian was a considerate and talented lover. She would wait.
***
In the carriage ride home, Sophie rested her head against Sebastian’s shoulder. He touched her face lightly and she sighed.
“It was a lovely evening. Thank you,” she said, yawning.
“Of course. We should go on more outings. A picnic in the park, perhaps?”
Sophie closed her eyes. “Yes. I would like that.”
She reached out with her small hand to touch his and weaved her fingers into his on his thigh.
“It was a good evening,” she murmured.
Sebastian watched her lips move and wanted so badly to taste them—and every inch of her. No. He must behave himself.
“It was,” he murmured back.
***
Sophie was safely in her bedchamber undressing when Sebastian threw himself onto his own bed, naked. It had been a long evening—enjoyable, but also the same slow burn. He had not expected to see Juliette, but that had not been unpleasant. She had always been a loyal friend and good lover.
It was the closeness to Sophie that had been his undoing. He moved his hand along his hard shaft and thought of her again. So many times he had wanted her, ached for her, but was unable to take her.
He thought of her that morning at the chateau. He had been so close to pushing her legs apart and pressing into her. He moved his hand up and down the shaft and felt the tension building. He could well imagine her legs wrapped around his waist as his cock filled her deeply.
She would arch and beg him not to stop and he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He would move against her, their bodies glistening. He was moving his hand quicker and quicker up and down his thick shaft as the tension mounted.
He could imagine her lips against his as she climaxed with breathy cries in his ear. He would fill her tight pussy with his seed pumping deep inside her. At the same time, Sebastian climaxed with a guttural grunt as his milky ropes of seed spilled out onto his handkerchief.
He fell back onto his bed, exhausted and entirely spent.
***
Jean Pierre had been annoyed at the inspector’s arrogance to show his face on his doorstep. His claims of Marie as the writer of the pamphlets were laughable and he fully intended to cut the young inspector down a mark.
He wasn’t a man who threw his weight or power around such as it was, and he wasn’t a bully. But there was one domain which he would not have threatened and that was his home. The inspector had overstepped his boundaries. Jean Pierre would make certain it didn’t happen again.
He walked quickly from his offices to the commissioner’s office. He made no appointment because he didn’t need one. He would give his name, ask to see the man and he would state the case before him. The inspector should look elsewhere.
The commissioner was a portly man with little hair on top of his balding head. He seemed overly fond of drink and was already enjoying a glass of something brown when Jean Pierre was admitted to his office.
“Monsieur Gauvreau.” Commissioner Yves Tondreau motioned to the chair before his great desk.
“Merci, commissioner.” Jean Pierre took the seat and placed his gloves and tricorn hat on his knees before him.
He surveyed the typical civil servant’s office. It was decorated in dark woods with little light, and piles of papers surrounding the large man. There was a bottle and glass at his hand, along with a dirty quill pen and half a bottle of black ink.
“How may I assist you? This is an unexpected visit,” Commissioner Tondreau replied smoothly.
“Yes. I received an unexpected visit myself and would like to remedy the situation,” Jean Pierre began.
The commissioner’s brow furrowed and he asked, “Indeed? What situation is this?”
“Inspector Vennard. I believe he is under your jurisdiction. He visited my home intent on pursuing the identity of a writer of pamphlets,” Jean Pierre supplied.
The Commissioner nodded. “Yes, I recall I gave him leave to pursue any inquiries he felt might lead to the true identity.”
“Not in my home,” Jean Pierre said softly.
“You think he is on the wrong track?” the commissioner asked.
“Most assuredly. I employ a maid, and have an elderly mother and young daughter. Do you think any of these women would seek to write a pamphlet criticizing the monarchy?” Jean Pierre asked.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He poured himself another drink and sipped it while Jean Pierre watched his slow movements.
“Perhaps you will talk to him and explain that this is not the right path. He should seek his writer elsewhere.” Jean Pierre spoke, but implied it was not a request.
The commissioner nodded. “Yes. The writer cannot be in your household. It would not make sense. A woman benefits from the very life she publically criticizes?”
“You understand,�
� Jean Pierre said, nodding.
“I will speak to Vennard.”
“We understand each other. Good day to you, commissioner.”
The commissioner nodded in return. “Monsieur.”
***
“I don’t understand,” Alain said to the commissioner. “Why should I stop all investigation with the Gauvreau family?”
“Because I am your superior and I have told you to cease all investigation,” Yves said heatedly.
Alain shook his head. “Has someone spoken to you? Placed pressure on you?”
“Absurd! I answer to no one!” Yves said, flushed.
Alain knew his commissioner was old and settled. He would not want to upset the apple cart so there was no need to press the man further. He would play the game. He nodded in compliance. “It will be as you wish.”
The commissioner nodded. “Bon.”
Alain closed the door to his superior’s office and almost snarled. Sophie was the key to his plans and he would not let anyone get in his way. He would stay the course he was on, but in secret.
***
The newlyweds dined with Sophie’s father and grandmother, and after dinner over brandy, Jean Pierre relayed his conversation with the commissioner to Sebastian.
“What prompted the meeting?” Sebastian asked, curious.
“He’s an upstart. I don’t like strangers meddling in my affairs. To have that inspector come to my home and accuse my servants, my family, is a disgrace and an injustice. The man should be out seeking the true culprit. He needed to be reminded of his duty.”
Sebastian was quiet. “I agree. Your home, your family must be protected.” It was the very reason he had married Jean Pierre’s daughter.
Sebastian wondered if maybe now the inspector would finally leave Sophie alone and the marriage could be annulled sooner than they had both anticipated. An annulment. It left an ache in him. He didn’t want it annulled. He wanted Sophie as his wife.
***
As Sebastian entered the foyer of their home, he relayed the conversation he had with her father.
“Really?” she said, surprised.
“Yes. Your father was quite angry at the invasion of his family’s privacy. He has spoken to the commissioner who oversees the inspector.”
Sophie felt a wave of relief flood through her. “He will stop his investigation?”
“Apparently.”
“Do you think he will?”
He looked into her warm, hazel eyes and couldn’t lie. “I don’t know, Sophie. A man like that could easily investigate certain things while hiding it from others.”
“Yes. I suppose he could. I was thinking if he does stop, the annulment could happen sooner than we originally thought.”
“Are you so anxious for it?” he asked.
“No. I hadn’t given it much thought. My life hasn’t changed at all since we married, except where I sleep.” She motioned to the house around her.
Yes, he thought. Not much had changed for her. She remained innocent and vulnerable. He, on the other hand, burned for her.
“Would you like a brandy?” he asked.
“No. I’m going to retire for the evening. Good night.”
“Sleep well, Sophie,” Sebastian said softly.
Chapter 22
Sophie fluffed her hair out behind her head and moved to sleep on her right side, then on her left side. She couldn’t sleep and the full moon outside didn’t help. It seemed to be shining like a beacon in her room.
She remembered Sebastian’s offer of a brandy and knew it would help her sleep. Dressed in a long, white shift, she went downstairs quietly and opened the door to the library. It was empty. She poured herself a brandy and took a large sip of it. The cognac warmed her.
She had not thought to bring a shawl or wrapper. She must remember that she was no longer in her father’s home. She must cover herself and be discreet. It was easy to think she still lived with her family when in fact she shared the house with a man—her husband, but in name only.
A movement caught the corner of her eye and she saw Sebastian asleep on the long coffee-colored couch. An empty glass was beside him on the floor. Sophie approached him cautiously and bent down before him at eye level. He was asleep. She placed her own glass down and softly brushed his hair back from his forehead. He looked almost innocent in sleep.
She knew he was handsome and that he was admired for his masculine beauty. But he was also a man who kept his word and was honorable. That was not something you could create. A man either had those qualities or did not. Her fingers felt along his cheekbone and then traced below his bottom lip. She swallowed and placed her hand down on the sofa.
Instantly he grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.
Sophie was startled. “N-nothing. Looking at you.”
“That’s why you are here?”
“No. I couldn’t sleep. I took some brandy.”
“Yes?” He eyed her with interest.
“Yes. Doesn’t it help you sleep?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
She stared at him stretched out on the sofa.
“I opened my eyes for a moment when you first came in. I saw you in the white shift against the firelight and thought you were a ghost,” he murmured.
She smiled lightly. “As you see, I’m not.”
“Let me be sure.”
He pulled her into him and kissed her lightly on the lips. She felt her heartbeat quicken and with her free hand she pressed against his chest.
“Bash.”
He moved his other hand into her luscious auburn hair and his fingers tangled into it. His lips touched hers, followed by the gentle probing of his tongue. Once his mouth was on hers he moved his free hand to touch her neck and then moved along her collarbone.
She closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss, but when he touched her she pulled away slightly.
“Sophie. I won’t hurt you. Let me hold you.”
She couldn’t say no. She owed him so much, and she was weak. She wanted him too. She moved onto the sofa with him and he swept her hair back as he replaced his hand with his mouth. He nuzzled her neck and she shivered.
“Ana behibek,” he said quietly.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“Nothing. A phrase in Arabic.”
She nodded, turning away from him as he pulled her back into him.
“Sophie,” he whispered in her ear. “My wife.”
Sophie turned her head to him. “Not really. In name only.”
Sebastian was silent. “I can make you truly my wife.”
Sophie’s heart thudded. “You did me a great favor. I will release you when it’s all over.”
“What if I don’t want to be released?” he whispered.
“Are you drunk, Bash?”
“A little,” he admitted.
She smiled.
“Drunk enough to see ghosts in my library.”
“I’m not a ghost.”
“Drunk enough to know that when the time comes I will be the next sheik. I will live in Arabia with my people and rule.”
“With your wife.” She nodded.
“With my wife,” he agreed.
“And children, most likely.”
“Yes, children too. We would make beautiful children, Sophie.”
Sophie blushed. “Yes, I imagine that’s true.”
“I want you, Sophie,” he whispered in her ear.
She shuddered. “You have your mistress.”
“Only you will do,” he said softly. “Only you,” he said again before he drifted off to sleep.
His fingers tangled in her hair and she realized he was asleep again. She pressed her back into his chest and remained curled against him. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and secure.
***
Sebastian woke as usual with a painfully hard shaft and a soft, feminine body filling his arms. He looked around the room and realized he was in
his library, but why he was here was a mystery.
Even more curious was the fact that Sophie was curled against him, also sleeping. He enjoyed the feel of her and even the dull ache of his shaft didn’t diminish the beauty of the moment.
He remembered drinking several glasses of brandy and then falling on the sofa to sleep. Then he remembered her coming into the room in an almost transparent shift and he had at first thought she was a ghost.
It all came back to him. She had come towards him and touched his face. He had asked her to stay with him. He moved his hands along the shift’s hem and his fingers felt the silken flesh of her calf, knee and thigh. She moaned slightly in sleep and shifted, pressing her bottom into him.
He closed his eyes. How far could he go? How far would he go? Not far. She wouldn’t give herself to him. He already knew that. All that he felt for her was not reciprocated.
He only had one hand available as his other hand was underneath her head.
He moved his hand over her left thigh, up along her hip and over her breasts. She sighed before he pressed a hot kiss on her neck and knew he should stop. She sighed and turned to face him as Sebastian kissed her lips lightly and sat up.
He adjusted his clothing and tried not to grind his teeth in frustration. It was becoming more and more difficult to be in her company and not ravish her.
“Come, Sophie. Let’s dress for breakfast,” he told his sleepy wife.
***
Alain Vennard slammed his way into his small office in the basement of the large building which housed numerous officials, including his commissioners and the other inspectors. His tiny windowless office space did little to cheer his mood. The small mahogany desk and chair and piles of papers littered around the office only reinforced how far he still had to go to achieve his goals.
He had not been surprised by the commissioner’s desire to drop everything to do with the Gauvreau family. As an older man used to taking bribes and becoming comfortable with his position, he would not want anything to threaten what he had achieved. He liked his easy position of doing very little and having his inspectors do all the work. Alain was the opposite.
Alain was ambitious and absolutely comfortable with bringing the upper classes to heel. In fact, his plan—which included Sophie Gauvreau—would make it certain that the upper classes would not receive any special favors. He was not interested in bribes or money, only power.
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