by Sabrina York
As he advanced, tiny ripples assailed his every nerve. When he retreated, she closed on him in wicked clenches. He could move like this, feel like this, all night.
She did not agree. She shifted, spreading her knees wider, and buried her fingers in the globes of his bottom, digging in, trying to control his movements. “Faster,” she commanded. “More.”
Damn if she wasn’t an insistent little thing.
It was only polite to comply with a request from a lady. Even when she was dressed as a man.
He increased his pace, the heat of his thrusts. Faster and faster in accordance with her demands. Her cries twined with his groans and the sound of flesh slapping flesh as he ravaged her.
She came again and her hold on him tightened unbearably. Heat crawled up his spine and then back down again; need howled at the base of his being. His balls tightened. His cock swelled. Insanity hovered. And then it descended.
Though he was nearly insensate with pleasure, his body forged on, pounding into her at a manic pace even as he came. Even as the fire took him, and her.
They clung to each other as they recovered, though recovery was difficult, as she kept nuzzling his neck.
“Oh dear,” she said once he had withdrawn and cast about to find her pants. He dressed her gently, fitting one limp leg in and then the other. “I did not intend for that to happen.”
His head jerked up. He stared at her. “You did not?”
“Ned.” She shot him a repentant smile. “You’re still recovering—”
“I am practically recovered.”
“I would expire if I hurt you. But honestly, darling…” She stood and did up her pants because his fingers were still trembling. He saw to his own, which had never so much as left his hips. “I couldn’t stop myself. Once you kissed me, I mean. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed that. My life has been so dreary without you.”
“And mine without you.” He picked up her hat and set it on her head, though it was truly absurd.
“Blast Ewan for keeping us apart. I cannot bear it. I cannot.” That tears welled in her eyes devastated him.
“Neither can I.”
“Really?” She sent him a hopeful smile.
“Really, darling.” He kissed her again, but softly. He knew the danger here. If he allowed his kiss to linger, they would end up back on his cape.
“I’ve been thinking, Ned.” A skirl of dread threaded through him. There was always trouble when she’d been thinking. “We should run away together.”
Ah yes. The dread blossomed. “Sophia—”
She stiffened at his reluctant tone. “You don’t want to run away with me?” Blast. Tears again.
“Sophia. I want nothing more. But I would not dishonor you.” He glanced at his rumpled cape on the gazebo floor and added to himself, more. “Besides, I have a better plan.”
She shifted anxiously, her eyes alight. “Do you?”
“Yes. I’ve spoken with Edward and Ewan about the plans for my future.”
“And?”
“I told Ewan I intend to offer for you—”
“Oh, excellent.” She clapped.
“Once I’ve made something of myself.”
Her smile fell. “You are something, Ned.”
“Not nearly enough. Not for you. I want to be worthy—”
“Worthy? Bah! You saved my life, for pity sake. What could be more worthy?”
“A fortune. Like your brother’s.”
She frowned at him. “It took him years to make his fortune. I cannot wait years.”
His heart stuttered. “You cannot wait for me?” A small voice for such a devastating thought.
“Ned.” She cupped his cheek. “I would wait for you forever. But I’m not getting any younger. I’m practically on the shelf.”
“Never say it.”
“Besides, I don’t want to wait. Think how much we shall miss this.” She traced his cock. And blast it all, it started to rise. Again.
“Sophia—”
“Besides, Ewan had to resort to nefarious means to make his fortune. I don’t want that for you.”
“I don’t intend to break the law, darling. Edward has gifted me a stable. I believe I can make a go of it. Enough money to support you in the manner to which you have become accustomed at least.”
Her frown darkened. “The manner to which I have become accustomed?”
“Jewels. Gowns. Silk slippers.”
She gestured to her person. “I believe I can manage without all that. Ned, you goose. All I want is you.”
“We have to eat.”
“I can afford a loaf of bread now and again. I do have pin money, you know.”
He smiled gently. “We cannot live on your pin money.” He kissed her forehead. “It won’t be long, darling. A year at the most. Maybe two.”
“Maybe two?” She stared at him in horror.
“But this is the important bit. Ewan has promised he will not force you to wed another, if you are willing to wait. Tell me you are willing to wait. Please.” He hated the desperation in his tone but it was only a mere reflection of the desperation in his soul.
“Of course I will wait. But Ned—”
“Thank you. Thank you, darling.” He kissed her the way he wished, the way he craved, with a savage abandon. God, it was wonderful, holding her again. It would be hell waiting but his hunger would likely spur him to greater success. At least he hoped so. And perhaps on occasion they would be at the same ball or the same musicale. Perhaps on occasion they could see each other. Be like this again. Perhaps on occasion—
“What the fooking hell is this?”
A dark growl shook the timbers of the little gazebo. Slowly, Ned turned, though he knew what he’d see. Ewan. He would recognize that growl anywhere.
What he didn’t expect was Violet at his side. And Edward. And Kaitlin. And Malcolm, who was smirking. Some woman he didn’t recognize stood with them, her mouth agape.
Ewan’s gaze drifted downward to the cape spread out on the floor. Wrinkled.
His face went red. His meaty hands fisted. A horrifying pulse began to thrum in his temple.
Violet set her hand on his arm. As though to hold him back.
Violet was, of all of them, the most optimistic.
“I will kill you.” Lord, but his brogue was thick when he was incensed.
“We were just talking,” Sophia chirped.
Ned’s head whipped around. He gaped at her. Such a blatant lie. Surely no one would—
“I see that,” Kaitlin said. She didn’t bother holding back a smile.
“Ye cannot talk well with your mouth on her,” Ewan growled.
“Her?” This sharp trill from the elegant lady. She leaned in to peer at Sophia.
“And why the fook are you dressed like that?”
Sophia twirled. “I’m a pirate.”
“I thought I told you to stay a’home.”
“How could I miss this?” Ah, how she smiled at her brother. So calmly, as though doom was not ringing down upon their heads.
“Lady Jersey? Are you all right?”
Ned’s attention shifted to Violet, who held the older woman in her arms.
She fanned herself with her fingers. “I think I feel faint,” she warbled.
Violet fluttered her lashes. “Ewan, please help Lady Jersey back inside. She’s feeling faint.”
He glared at his wife. Then he glared at Sophia. Then he glared at Ned. He took a step forward.
“Ewan!”
Thankfully his wife’s call was more powerful than his desire to pound Ned into the ground. “Stay with them,” he snapped at Edward and Malcolm, who both nodded. Though their grins were wide.
Ned’s bowels didn’t relax until Ewan disappeared from sight, practically carrying Lady Jersey back to the house.
“Well, you’ve done it now,” Malcolm blurted, tossing himself on the bench. “You’ll have to marry her.”
Good.
Excellent.
&nbs
p; In fact—
His heart stalled. He couldn’t. Not yet. He had to prove himself first. He wound his fingers through Sophia’s. She gave him a comforting squeeze.
“No,” he said.
She yanked her hand away. Stared at him with a mixture of annoyance and hurt on her face. “What do you mean, no?”
“I told you, darling. I need to make my fortune first.”
“And I told you. I have an allowance.”
“And I told you,” Edward put in, “you don’t need to worry about that.”
Heat prickled at his nape and crawled up his face. “My entire life I’ve been told how worthless I am. First by the man I thought was my father—”
“Horace was a bastard,” Edward said.
“A right bastard,” Malcolm added. Malcolm made no secret of the fact he despised the man who had raised them and beaten them at every opportunity.
“And now Ewan.” His hands curled into fists. “I must make my mark as a man. I must prove myself worthy.” As desperately as he yearned to claim Sophia as his own, he needed this. Needed it.
Sophia sighed. “Ned. Dearest. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her brow. Her sweet, soft brow. “I know that, sweeting. But I must prove it to myself. Don’t you see?”
She put out a lip. He itched to kiss that too but did not. Not with an audience. “No.”
“I need to stand on my own two feet—”
“Ned, you are a wonderful man. Strong, proud, brave.” She traced his chin. “You’re the only one who doesn’t see the truth of it. Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
“Because he’s a Wyeth?” Malcolm offered.
“He is a Wyeth,” Edward said. “And as such, more than man enough to claim his destiny.”
Ned let out a breath. “I understand what you are all saying. And I appreciate it. But I simply must make my own way. However long it takes.”
Sophia unleashed a very unladylike snort.
“Please understand, darling. This is very important to me.” He tried to invest his tone with the depth of his feeling and was gratified to see her soften.
Before she was adequately softened, Malcolm felt the need to quip, “Has it occurred to anyone else that her reputation is in tatters?”
“It’s occurred to me,” Edward drawled.
Something nasty snarled and spat in Ned’s belly. He had ruined her quite thoroughly. But he did intend to marry her. As soon as he could afford to keep her.
He glared at his brothers, but before he could respond, Sophia huffed a breath and said, “I don’t give two figs for my reputation.”
He gaped at her. “You don’t?”
“Of course not.” A tear pooled in her eye. “All I want is for you to be happy.”
“You make me happy, Sophia. But I need…I must…” How could he explain?
Their gazes tangled; an unspoken communication passed between them. His heart swelled with the import of it. She understood. He did not need to explain. He kissed her, hard and harsh. Her response was just as desperate.
“Promise you’ll wait for me?”
“I already promised,” she grumbled. “But don’t make me wait too long.”
“Thank you, darling. Thank you.” He kissed her again. Far longer than he should have with his brothers looking on. He nodded to Edward. “See that she gets home safely, will you?”
“Ned!” she wailed. “Are you leaving now?”
He pressed his lips to the tip of her tipped-up nose. “I need to leave before Ewan returns—”
Malcolm linked his fingers and lounged back. “Highly advisable.”
“And now that I have your promise, I must begin forging my destiny. I will see you again, and soon, my love.” At least he hoped.
And then, with only several looks back, he left the garden. Left the party. Left her and headed out into the world to make a man of himself.
Chapter Fifteen
How annoying.
How utterly annoying.
Sophia glared at her brother across the table as he sipped his consommé. It was all his fault. Ned had left—to God knew where and for God knew how long—and she was stuck here with a brother she wanted to throttle.
To make matters worse, the doctor had confirmed that Violet was with child. Again.
Sophia was not sure why this truth made her want to crumble into a pile and cry but she suspected it had something to do with the fact that, had her brother not so adamantly rejected Ned’s suit, they could be married now. She could be with child. She could be holding a tow-haired babe to her breast.
Instead of hiding from the scandal.
Though, to be frank, there were benefits to being ruined. Thanks to Lady Jersey, who was a matron of the ton, word of her private tête-à-tête with a man—unescorted—had filtered out. But in truth, that had not been as appalling to polite society as the fact she’d been wearing trousers.
Honestly. They lived in such a ridiculous world.
At any rate, the result of her fall from grace was that suitors had stopped calling. All of them.
It was a relief, to be sure.
Ewan was distraught, but it was no more than he deserved.
He’d ruined her life.
“Eat your soup,” Violet urged.
Sophia crossed her arms. “I’m not hungry.” She’d only come down to dinner—the first time in weeks—because Ewan had stood at her door railing and battering at it and issuing all manner of threats. She hadn’t been hungry for days now.
All she could do was curl up in her bed and think about Ned and weep.
And occasionally retch.
Probably a result of the crying.
Damn and blast.
She understood Ned’s desire to be something but didn’t he see? Didn’t he understand? He was already something. He was everything.
Without him, the sun failed to shine.
Of course, it was England. And it was spring. The sun rarely shone. But that was beside the point.
The footmen removed the consommé and replaced it with the fish, which she poked at because Violet insisted she try to eat. And then the beef and puddings, all of which made her stomach roil.
Ewan sat across from her, glaring and shoveling food in his mouth as though his efforts could make up for hers. Or as though he could make her eat by sheer force of will.
He could not.
When the trifles came, she’d had enough. She tossed her serviette onto the table and stood.
“Where do ya think yer going?”
She frowned at him. “To my room.”
“Sit down.”
She put a hand to her belly. “I feel ill.”
“Sit. Down.”
“Ewan.” Violet set her hand on his arm. “Let her go.”
“I will nae. She’s not ill. She’s stubborn. She’s going to eat with us if it kills her. Sit down.”
Sophia plopped into a chair. A footman set a lovely dessert before her. She stared at it in horror. Something rose within her, something bitter.
She couldn’t hold back. Not any longer.
She opened her mouth and it all came pouring out.
All over her trifle.
Violet accompanied her to her room. She frowned as she helped Sophia tidy up and change into her nightgown. “We’re very worried about you,” she said.
“Ewan’s not.”
“He is. He is.” She drew her hand over Sophia’s brow. “Are you ill?”
“I’m pining.” Sophia hated that tears gathered on her lashes. She wasn’t a piner. She never pined.
“I am so sorry.” Violet gathered her into a hug and that was all it took for Sophia to break. She clung to her sister-in-law and wept.
“I m-miss h-him s-so m-much.”
“I know. I know.”
But she didn’t know. No one knew. How could they? They thought she was a girl, incapable of true and lasting love. She wasn’t a girl. She was a w
oman. And Ned was a man. Her man. She lifted her face to Violet’s. “Wh-where is he?”
“He’s gone to Watersly.”
“Where?”
“His estate. In Kent.”
“Kent?” So very far away. And then, “He has an estate?”
“Edward gifted it to him. It has stables.”
“Oh.” He would like that. He did love his horseflesh. She wondered how far away Watersly was and if she could convince Pippin, the stable boy, to help her steal her brother’s carriage. Probably not. Pippin was very loyal to Ewan.
“Sophia. What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.”
“I know that look. You are not hieing off to Kent.”
She put out a lip. Damn annoying, it was, when people knew one so well.
Violet chuckled. “I have a better plan.”
“You do?” Judging from Violet’s expression, it was a wicked plan.
She nodded. “Both Ewan and Ned are stubborn—”
“Truer words have never been spoken.”
“When faced with such intransigence, a woman must, on occasion, resort to desperate schemes.”
“Desperate schemes?”
“Yes. What is the one thing that will bring Ned and Ewan to heel?”
Sophia shook her head. She’d thought and thought and hadn’t been able to come up with one situation where her brother or her love would relent.
Violet tsked. “I am disappointed in you, Sophia.”
“Never say it!”
“The solution is more than clear. Ewan is well aware you have been debauched.”
Sophia smiled at the word. She loved that word.
“He suspects it might have happed during your adventure—”
Yes. It had.
“And you have been ill.”
What was she getting at? Sophia wrinkled her nose and thought about—
Oh. Oh my. Her gaze snapped to Violet, who nodded; her wicked grin broadened.
“But I had my courses.”
“Who knows? Other than Nan? And she wouldn’t tell. Aside from which, my dear, if I am not mistaken, another opportunity for a happy accident occurred recently at the Billingsly soirée.”
A tremendous excitement welled in her chest. And twined with it, a sudden, glorious hope. Oh yes. Yes!
