The Earl's Dangerous Assignment (Unlikely Pairs Book 3)

by Ginny Hartman

  “Good girl,” he said, tweaking her nose. “Now, let's retire to our chamber and let this continue to progress naturally,” he suggested as he placed another scorching kiss on her lips.

  “As you wish, my lord,” Alexandra said dreamily before turning and running down the hall, leaving Aaron no choice but to chase her.

  By her calculations, the letters Sophia had posted to her Aunt Caroline should be arriving any day. She was getting anxious to hear from her aunt, hopeful to set her plans to run away into motion. Reverend Balfour had come to call on her once more and his second visit was no more enjoyable than his first. She had to escape her fate before she was tied to the Reverend for life.

  It was an unusually sunny day, which served to brighten Sophia's mood, if only just slightly. She tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin before gathering up her paint supplies and heading towards the gardens.

  At the far edge of the gardens was a small pond with a lovely little stone bench. Sophia carried her supplies all the way there, in hopes of finding some peace as she painted by the calm water. The sun's reflection sparkled off the pond as she set her supplies on the bench and went to the water's edge. Bending down, she dipped her hand into the tepid water, relishing the coolness against her warm skin.

  She and Gilbert had come to the pond often as children, much to their nurse maid's chagrin. Without fail, one of them always ended up falling into the water, soiling their clothing and angering their nurse, but the pair couldn't help it; they'd both had a yearning for adventure from birth, it seemed.

  Melancholy struck Sophia as she stood and gazed across the pond. Mostly, her feelings of anger and disgust towards Gilbert consumed her, but sometimes the memories of their childhood would come back to haunt her, like now, and she couldn't help but mourn the brother she had lost.

  Gilbert wasn't the perfect brother, he teased her mercilessly and often vexed her endlessly, but he was her only sibling, and they loved each other because of that. Sometimes she missed having someone to tease her, as only a brother could.

  Returning to the bench, she began pulling her art supplies from her satchel. She tried to occupy her thoughts with what she would paint, because thoughts of Gilbert were just too painful. Birds chirped merrily above as she set up her small easel and set her canvas on it. Dipping her brush into the paint, she began mindlessly painting large, deep strokes that would hopefully take shape as her project progressed.

  For the next half hour, Sophia painted, unsure of exactly what it was she was painting. Though she'd never been prone to enjoy the pastimes of a lady, she always excelled at them. Painting and playing the pianoforte came naturally to her and many often commented on her talent, but she would much rather be working for The Crown than acting the part of a lady.

  Finally, she lowered her brush and looked at the canvas. It was an abstract painting in deep colors; purple, blue, and black. She cocked her head to the side as she stared at it, trying to make out what it could be. It resembled a chaotic nightmare, she thought strangely, though oddly enough, it had a unique beauty to it. Her head cocked to the other side as she thought how the painting resembled her life; full of darkness and beauty, adventure and pain.

  Suddenly, Sophia was seized upon by the strangest sensation. Her back stiffened as her instincts alerted her that she was not alone. Though she couldn't see it, she felt eyes upon her and knew she was being watched. A chill coursed through her body as she gingerly set her paintbrush down and subtly turned her head in every direction, looking for the intruder.

  Her eyes scanned the pond and the surrounding area but could find no one there besides herself. Feeling uneasy, she began quickly packing up her supplies, anxious to return to the house. Just then, she heard a whistling sound and her head whipped towards the noise just in time to see eight bobbing heads walking past the rosebushes.

  Sophia watched as Reverend Balfour and his seven children weaved along the garden path, like a mother hen with her baby chicks in tow. He hadn't informed her they'd be visiting today; she thought with irritation as she swiftly rose from the bench, looking for a way to escape unnoticed. She realized she'd have to leave her painting and supplies if she wished to avoid detection, but she didn't care. Without another thought, she quickly took off running towards the woods at the back edge of their property.

  The ribbons of her bonnet came undone as she ran, but Sophia didn't have time to stop and fix it. Soon, the entire thing slid from her head and tumbled to the ground below, a casualty of her cause. She felt her pins loosen in her hair as she ran, and several thick curls escaped their confines.

  By the time she reached the woods, she was breathing heavily, wishing she could somehow undo her corset to allow a bit more air to fill her lungs. Now what was she going to do, she wondered as she sunk deeper into the forest. Her slippers were getting soiled as she walked across the squishy moss that covered the ground.

  Soon enough, as she trudged deeper into the forest, a clearing opened up exposing the old, dilapidated woodsman's cottage. She gasped in delight as she saw the dwelling and let out a hearty laugh. She'd forgotten about this rundown place, though during their childhood, she and Gilbert had often come to tour it. It had seemed so magical then, but now it merely seemed creepy. Nonetheless, it would provide the perfect hiding spot for her until Reverend Balfour and his passel of children left.

  The door creaked loudly as she pushed it open and entered the cottage. She was at once assaulted with the musty smell of an old, filthy home. She pushed the door shut before glancing around at the dark surroundings. The cottage was much smaller than she remembered and in a state of horrible disrepair. In the far corner, a beam from the ceiling had come loose, falling across the room and crushing a chair in its wake, leaving splintered shards of wood strewn about. She was careful to tiptoe around the worst of it, not wanting to get a sliver in her foot. Her dainty slippers were not adequate footwear for such a location.

  Glancing around the small room, she noticed a cot against the far wall. She wouldn't have thought anything of it, except laying atop it was a fluffy down pillow encased in rich, navy silk. How odd, she thought as she approached and ran her hand along the material. It seemed quite out of place, the only new, and clean, thing in the entire cottage.

  With wonder, she lowered herself to the cot and lifted the pillow into her arms, giving it a hearty squeeze. Next, she held it to her face and breathed deeply of its scent, a manly scent that, oddly enough, reminded her suddenly of Lord Coldwell. With that realization, she quickly dropped the pillow back onto the cot.

  Unsure of just how long she needed to stay away from Goldborne to avoid Reverend Balfour, Sophia decided to extend her body on the cot as she passed the time. The minute her head hit the pillow, she realized just how tired she was. Staring up at the rotting ceiling above her, she pondered on where the luxurious pillow could have come from but, before coming up with an answer, she drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber.

  Samuel watched with amusement as Sophia ran into the woods. He wasn't precisely sure why she suddenly abandoned her painting to do so, but it entertained him nonetheless. The last few days had been filled with a constant feeling of boredom as he spied on the lady. She'd done nothing out of the ordinary, nor had she received or sent any strange correspondence during that time. Her quick flight into the forest was the most exciting thing that he'd experienced in days.

  He waited for her to get far enough ahead before he began following her. Perhaps she had a clandestine meeting arranged; he thought as he kept his eye trained on her every move. Lady Sophia intrigued him. She did all the things one would expect of a lady of the ton, and she did them with ease, but he knew that the things she did in private brought her infinitely more satisfaction. She seemed to relish in the fact that she lived a double life.

  Samuel paused at the edge of the clearing as he watched Sophia slip into the cottage. He waited for what seemed like forever for her to exit, but she never did. Strange how it seemed as if she were act
ually running from someone instead of running to someone.

  He perched on the edge of a tree stump, his eyes trained to the cottage as he waited. The minutes ticked by and before he knew it, more than an hour had passed. Growing concerned, he wondered if she'd managed to escape from the back of the cottage and disappear.

  He rose from his place on the stump and stretched the stiffness from his body. He had no choice; he had to go inside and check. Knowing that the door would groan loudly upon opening it, he advanced to the far side of the cottage where he knew a window was; it's glass pane long ago shattered. He stuck his head inside and tried to see if Sophia were still there, but the room was too dark to see much.

  Grabbing the edge of the windowsill, he hoisted himself deftly inside, careful not to make a sound. It always amazed his partners how a large man could move about so quietly. Tiptoeing across the floor, his eyes darted about in the darkness as he held his breath to listen to the noises around him. He was amazed when the only sound that greeted him was a soft, deep breathing sound.

  Approaching the cot, he looked down and wanted to laugh. There, curled up on the cot with his pillow shoved beneath her head was a sleeping Sophia. He suddenly felt as if he'd been transported to one of the fairy tales of his childhood. Here he'd just discovered a sleeping beauty in his bed.

  He gently knelt next to the cot and tenderly reached out and brushed the wayward strands of golden hair back from her face. His fingers tingled as they grazed the smooth, silky skin of her cheek. Her full lips were parted slightly, revealing even, white teeth. Samuel took a moment to stare at her, mesmerized by how innocent and beautiful she was. At that moment, there was no one in the world who could convince him that she was a traitor to The Crown.

  Sophia stirred gently in her sleep, then slowly turned towards him, though she never woke up. He reached forth and stroked the exposed skin of her arm, telling himself he was only doing so to make sure she wasn't cold. Her skin prickled into gooseflesh at the contact, and he wondered if his touch affected her as much hers did him.

  What was it about this vexing, headstrong girl that mesmerized him so? Whenever he was in her presence, he felt like he was half in love with the chit, though he knew that couldn't be so. Samuel didn't have time for love. He didn't have time for a wife, and he most certainly didn't have time for a family.

  He was an important asset to The Crown and had been for years. While his father thought he was happily enjoying his grand tour across Europe, he was actually embroiled in several secret missions in France, many of which he wasn't sure he'd ever return from. He couldn't continue to aide The Crown and satisfy his lust for adventure if he found himself caught in the parson's mousetrap.

  His eyes never left Sophia's face as he thought. What was he supposed to do with the girl now? He couldn't wake her and send her on her way, not without revealing his presence at Goldborne. No, that would not due, for surely she'd have too many questions, questions he couldn't truthfully answer.

  Instead, he remained where he was, soaking in her beauty and wondering what it would be like to kiss her. He'd been so close to doing it on several occasions, but her objections had always given him pause.

  In a moment of weakness, he decided to see what her lips felt like beneath his own. Leaning forward, he pressed the most gentle of kisses to her lips as a jolt of heat shot through his body. The kiss was so brief, so innocent that he could almost convince himself it hadn't happened, except for the fact his entire being was tingling with awareness. He felt as if he'd been asleep his whole life and someone had suddenly, and very violently, woken him up.

  Samuel darted to his feet, backing away from the cot. The kiss was nothing; he told himself as he shook his head. Deep down, however, he knew it wasn't true. What just happened to him was anything but innocent, it shook him to his very core. He turned his back on Sophia and ran his hands through his hair. Perhaps it had merely been too long since he'd kissed a girl, he pondered as he began pacing back and forth, grasping for an answer to the forceful emotions he was experiencing.

  His eyes darted to the door, and he suddenly had the greatest urge to flee, to run from the confusion that was besetting him. Without thinking, he rushed to the door and pulled it open, causing a loud groan to echo throughout the room.

  He cringed and made to leave, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a soft voice behind him call out in surprise, “Lord Coldwell, is that you?”

  Everything in him tensed as Lady Sophia's words caused him to still. He didn't dare turn around and look at the woman. Was she aware that he had kissed her?

  Sophia rubbed the haze from her eyes and blinked several times. “What are you doing here, Samuel?” she asked curiously.

  It didn't escape his notice that she'd called him by his Christian name. The briefest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips. Still uneasy, however, he kept both of his hands firmly on the door as he looked over his shoulder and said, “You're dreaming, Lady Sophia.”

  Scrunching her nose, she reached her hands high above her head as she yawned loudly. Her back arched gracefully as she stretched, causing the fabric of her bodice to pull tightly across her bosom as she rose. Samuel had to look away, for he was far too tempted to run to her and pull her into his embrace.

  “I suspected as much,” she said groggily. “This isn't the first time you've appeared in my dreams.”

  “Oh, it isn't?” Samuel asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “Of course not. You regularly make an appearance, though this time it seems different, more real.”

  His blood heated at her admission. Dropping his hands from the door, he gently pushed it closed and took a step towards her. “Tell me what you dream about.”

  Sophia glanced towards the window and stifled another yawn. “Nothing noteworthy, I assure you, my lord.”

  For a moment, disappointment filled his breast, but then he noticed the blooming of color on her cheeks and knew she was lying. He took a step closer to her. “That isn't true. Tell me the truth this time, Sophia,” he purred.

  Her gaze shifted to his as her plump lips parted slightly. Another jolt of awareness coursed through him as he thought of how those lips had felt against his own. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to feel the glorious sensation once more.

  “I can't tell you, Samuel. It would be highly inappropriate.”

  He took another slow, deliberate step towards her. “Perhaps if you weren't dreaming it would be, little lamb, but the rules of polite society do not apply when you're asleep.”

  He knew he wasn't being entirely fair to her, taking advantage of her confusion, but he couldn't help himself.

  Sophia reached up and began tapping her lower lip, something he recognized she often did when deep in thought. “If I tell you,” she finally began, “you must promise not to poke fun at me.”

  “I'd never,” he breathed, anxiously waiting for her to divulge her secrets.

  “Very well, Samuel, then I will confess. You always appear as my lover.”

  Samuel nearly choked on her boldness. His gaze roved over her body as she confessed, noting she didn't seem the least bit hesitant or embarrassed. Standing before him was the confident woman he'd come to know, full of bravery and completely lacking fear.

  “Your lover?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Oh, yes. Isn't that peculiar?”

  He shrugged one shoulder casually though he felt anything but. “I suppose it's only peculiar if I'm not a particularly good one. You see, I pride myself on being...skilled in that department.”

  Shocking and delighting him to the core, she admitted, “I can't seem to remember your level of accomplishment, perhaps you can remind me?”

  “Are you certain that's what you want?” he asked, wanting to be sure before he proceeded.

  “'Tis only a dream, Samuel. What harm can come from it?”

  “None I suppose,” he admitted weakly, though in the back of his mind he felt guilty for taking advantage of her at such a
time.

  However, Samuel was no fool; he'd dreamed of such a moment for so long, he didn't dare pass the opportunity by. With all of the restraint he could muster, he stalked slowly towards her. Stopping just inches from her person, he glanced down into her lovely face and asked one final time, “Are you certain this is what you want?”

  She nodded her head slowly, but surely. Needing no further permission, he took her face into his hands before lowering his lips to her own. Whereas the first kiss he'd administered had been gentle and brief, this kiss was the complete opposite. He kissed her with a surprising intensity, feeling as if he were drowning in the sea.

  Sophia's arms wound around his waist as she pressed her body tightly against his own. He marveled at how perfectly she molded to him and how eagerly she was responding to his touch. Long strands of silky hair brushed against his hands, and he soon found he couldn't resist the temptation to touch the golden mass.

  Without parting his lips from hers, he shoved his hands into her hair and tugged gently on the thick locks. Sophia groaned, causing his knees to grow weak. He twisted her around in his arms, so he could lean his person against the wall of the cottage to keep himself upright while still holding firmly to her.

  The kiss continued for an undetermined length of time. Sophia may have been the one dreaming, but at that moment, Samuel was convinced he was as well. Afterall, nothing so extraordinary, so sublime could possibly belong to this world. It was too ethereal.

  When their lips finally parted, he kept his head close to hers and whispered, “How do you rate my skill level, little lamb? I daresay I hope I didn't disappoint.”

  Her eyes were heavy with passion, and he felt confident she'd not express dissatisfaction. He was correct. “Oh, Samuel, it was even more than I expected it would be.”

  He laughed at her honest admission, her blue eyes sparkling with delight. He pulled her close, hugging her tightly to his chest, noting it felt completely right to do so. “Do you ever wish for your dreams to become a reality?”