by Monica Burns
“Again, you question my honor,” he rasped.
“And you have called me a liar.” Sophie jerked away from his grip and crossed the floor to where her riding habit was. “Your intentions regarding our agreement are not in question. Mine are. I refuse to marry a man who believes me to be a liar.”
Quentin stared at her in mute amazement. What the devil was the woman thinking to say she wouldn’t marry him? Her brother had just found her compromised with the Devil of Devlyn Keep. Didn’t the woman understand she had no recourse but to marry him? A fleeting whisper in his head suggested something else as well, but he ignored it.
She wasn’t thinking straight as she’d clearly not considered her father’s reaction to the matter. He had no doubt the baron would beat her for consorting with the enemy. Not to mention anyone learning of this incident would most assuredly question his honor. His integrity was the one thing the baron and Eleanor had left intact. He wasn’t about to lose that last piece of himself.
Quentin quickly followed her, and his fingers wrapped around soft flesh as he tugged her into his arms. Her mouth parted in surprise as she looked up at him, and his body instantly hungered for another taste of her. Christ Jesus, he was out of his mind lusting after this woman.
“If you think I’m going to let you walk away from me, then you’re wrong,” he said with quiet resolve. “Your brother found the two of us together, and you will marry me.”
“When pigs fly,” she bit out with a quiet fury.
“My honor is the one thing your father didn’t steal from me. And if you think I’m about to let you destroy my integrity, you’re mistaken.” Quentin ground out between clenched teeth. “Of course you do realize that the moment your brother learns of your decision, he’ll blame me. Naturally, Hamilton will find it necessary to defend your honor, and we both know I’m the better fighter.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Who am I to deny your brother satisfaction? I’m more than happy to settle the affair with fists. And as I’ve discovered, your brother has little aptitude for the boxing arena.”
He knew damned well he wouldn’t hurt the boy, but he was banking on Sophie not being sure enough of his restraint. He watched her weighing all her choices before she slowly nodded her head.
“I’ll honor our agreement.” Her body was rigid against his, but it didn’t stop his lust from barreling through him and wanting to feel her body yield beneath his.
“A wise decision,” he said softly.
“The only reason I did so was to save Spencer,” she said in a scathing tone of voice.
“An even wiser decision.” He smiled grimly at her.
“Yes it was. I have no wish to see my brother kill you.”
“Your concern for my well-being is touching.”
“I wasn’t referring to your safety, my lord. I simply have no intention of seeing my brother go to jail for your demise.”
Her contemptuous look sliced through him, and for a brief second he thought he saw a glimmer of pain in her eyes as well. He frowned as she turned away from him. Her back was straight and rigid as she reached for her clothing in a stilted manner. Had he been wrong? Sophie and her brother had both seemed stunned by all had just transpired. Doubt suddenly spread an icy blanket over him. He didn’t like the sensation or where it might take him. With a low-pitched oath, he stormed out of the cottage.
Chapter 7
As Quentin slammed the cottage door behind him, he noted Sophie’s brother standing on the edge of what barely passed for a porch. A fine drizzle had replaced the earlier downpour, but it still looked as if the clouds would open up at any moment. Hamilton looked at Quentin, his gaze filled with cold contempt. It was the same look Sophie had just directed his way. He glared back at the younger man daring the impudent pup to even open his mouth. But the boy simply turned away from him to stare out at the gentle rain. The silence was thin and brittle between them, and for some reason it made Quentin uncomfortable.
“Do you love her?” The quiet question made him jerk his head in Hamilton’s direction. Sophie’s brother continued to stare out at the rain without even a sideways glance at Quentin.
“We have…an agreement,” he said quietly.
“Then you don’t love her.” Hamilton’s voice had a hard edge as he turned to face him.
“No.”
“She deserves to be loved,” the younger man bit out with contempt and gestured rudely in Quentin’s direction. “She deserves better than you.”
“I’ll never lay a hand on her in violence, and I’ll see to it that she wants for nothing when my investments mature.” Quentin’s jaw was hard with tension.
He was beginning to feel as though Hamilton was grilling him as to his intentions toward Sophie. He didn’t like the sensation, particularly when it made him question the man’s guilt. The angry protest hardly presented the sign of a man guilty of plotting to catch Quentin in a compromising position.
“You’re too young for her.” Scorn hardened Hamilton’s gaze as he looked Quentin up and down. Again, an unusual reaction for a man bent on securing his sister a husband. A muscle tugged at the scar on Quentin’s cheek until the nerve endings beneath the marred skin protested with a vicious sting.
“Age is a state of mind. In many ways, your sister is much younger than I am.”
“Not from what I just witnessed,” the young man replied grimly.
“You found precisely what you wanted to find,” he snapped. “Me—served up on a marriage platter.”
“What the fuck are you talking about,” the younger man exclaimed with quiet anger.
“Your pretense that you were expecting to find Sophie alone.”
“You’re mad. What you’re suggesting is something Sophie would never condone, let alone participate in.” Hamilton stared at him in disgust.
“Do you really expect me to believe you stumbled upon this cottage merely by accident?” Quentin released a quiet laugh of disbelief at the other man’s protest.
“I don’t expect you to believe anything, except this,” Hamilton said with unflinching brutality. “If I had my way, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near Sophie.”
“Yet here you are, ensuring that I do the right thing by her.”
“Bloody hell, man. If it weren’t for the groomsman telling me Sophie was out in this rain, I wouldn’t even be here. It’s an insult to Sophie, and me, to suggest we planned this,” Hamilton snapped. “Didn’t you see her face when I…she was horrified.”
Quentin didn’t respond as he contemplated the other man’s response. It was obvious Sophie’s brother was far from happy that his sister was to marry his family’s enemy. A knot rose in his throat as he hovered on the brink of believing Hamilton’s explanation.
He was generally a good judge of character. Had his deep loathing of the baron and Eleanor blinded him to the truth? Was it possible Sophie and her brother weren’t lying? If that were true, then he’d wronged Sophie in a brutal way. He grimaced and studied the rain dripping off the trees surrounding the cottage. Sophie’s brother uttered an unintelligible oath.
“Besides, if I was going to put someone on a marriage platter, do you honestly think I’d select you for that honor?” The logic in Hamilton’s words left Quentin wavering in his opinion of Sophie’s brother.
“A point in your favor,” he admitted grudgingly as he kept his eyes trained on the wet foliage. The other man snorted with contempt.
“There are far more suitable candidates I would have selected for my sister. Sophie’s not known much kindness or love in her life. No matter how hard she tried, my father has never been kind to her. As a boy, there was little I could do about it. But I can and will make you pay if you hurt her.” There was a resolute note in Hamilton’s voice that made Quentin turn his head to meet the man’s steady gaze.
“Understood,” he said with a nod, realizing he liked the loyalty Hamilton showed for his sister. As Quentin studied the man’s profile, he frowned with puzzlement.
“How has your father been unkind to Sophie?”
“He’s made her pay dearly for her mother’s betrayal.”
“Christ Jesus,” Quentin muttered beneath his breath. “She’s a bastard.”
“Fuck. Do you mean to say she hasn’t told you?” Hamilton grimaced with dismay.
“Our courtship has been of a short nature,” Quentin said with a frown as he took in this new revelation.
Sophie wasn’t of Townsend’s blood. He should have realized it sooner. There was nothing about her that resembled the baron, not even her penchant for revenge. She might say she wanted vengeance, but escape was more likely her reason for approaching him. A possibility he’d missed as well. Deep in the back his mind, a mocking laugh taunted him with the fact he’d been absorbed with other things about Sophie. He buried the telling thought.
Even her odd reaction yesterday when he’d noted she looked nothing like Townsend should have alerted him to the fact that something else had driven her to proposition him with their bargain. Hamilton’s slip of the tongue explained a great deal. He’d had plenty of experience with the baron’s vindictive behavior. He could only imagine what Sophie had experienced at the hands of that bastard.
Knowing Townsend’s thirst for vengeance first hand, it made perfect sense to him that the baron would take his pound of flesh from Sophie for her mother’s sins. The knowledge aroused a protective instinct in him.
“You’re not to say anything to her,” Hamilton said as he blew out a harsh breath. It was the sound of a man who’d innocently betrayed his sister. “And by god, if you treat her differently because of this or even think of not doing right by her, I’ll—”
“Despite what you’ve heard about me, I am an honorable man. Sophie is blameless as to who her sire is, and this revelation changes nothing with regard to my agreement with her.”
Quentin stared at Hamilton until the younger man bowed his head. Satisfied with the other man’s sheepish silence, Quentin returned his gaze to the wet forest. His future brother-in-law didn’t realize how close he’d come to ending up in the mud a few feet away from the porch.
Rationally, he understood the man’s concern. Most men would have found the news of Sophie’s background reason enough to shun her. And yet, the news of her bastardy had not bothered him at all. Why was that? Deep in the back of his mind a voice cried out an answer before other thoughts drowned it out.
At a loss for an answer, Quentin breathed in the wet air as a drop of water slipped between the slats of the porch’s overhang and rolled down the back of his neck. Behind them, the cottage door creaked opened, and Sophie stepped out to join them under the rickety overhang. She scarcely afforded him a look before she touched her brother’s arm.
“Spencer?”
The question in her voice was an unspoken plea for forgiveness. For a moment, Quentin wasn’t sure the younger man was going to answer his sister, and he tensed ready to call the man to heel. As Hamilton turned toward Sophie, he shot a glance in Quentin’s direction and his eyes flashed a silent warning. He steadily returned the other man’s look and nodded slightly. Taking his sister’s hand, Hamilton’s expression was one of chastisement.
“I gather this is what you meant when you said you were planning something?” At her brother’s question, Sophie’s mouth curved in a weak smile and nodded.
“Yes,” she murmured as she turned to face Quentin. “Where and what time tomorrow am I to present myself to you, my lord?”
Contempt thinned her mouth, but pain and accusation darkened her hazel eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek as the truth slammed into him. He’d been wrong about her and Hamilton. It didn’t make him happy to admit it. It meant apologies were in order, and he wasn’t good at that. He bowed slightly.
“I’ve arranged for the vicar to perform the wedding ceremony at eleven tomorrow morning in the chapel near Devlyn Keep.”
“I’d like to stand with Sophie tomorrow if you have no objection,” Hamilton said quietly.
“As you wish.” Quentin nodded at his future brother-in-law.
“Tomorrow then. Sophie?”
Hamilton nodded at Quentin then offered his sister his hand. Before Sophie could step forward, Quentin quickly reached out to block her departure.
“I’d like to have a private word with Sophie, if I may.”
“Can it not wait until tomorrow, my lord?” Her voice crackled like ice breaking under his feet. She jerked her gaze in his direction, and a stubborn look flashed across her face. A warning for him to tread softly.
“I’ll not keep you long,” he murmured.
Sophie eyed him with scorn before she nodded sharply. She looked back at her brother who offered her a conciliatory smile and gestured toward the lean-to.
“I’ll wait for you with the horses.”
Sophie nodded and watched her brother walk away. Waiting for his future brother-in-law to move out of earshot, Quentin studied her profile. The silence between them was taut and fragile with an uncomfortable tension that set him on edge. Damn it to hell, did the woman really think he wouldn’t question her brother’s sudden arrival? What man wouldn’t? And in light of who her father was it was foolish of her to think he wouldn’t think the worst and question her word.
“What is it you have to say to me that cannot wait until tomorrow, my lord?” The brittle question emphasized her anger with him.
“Your brother has convinced me that you were telling the truth.” He knew it was a clumsy excuse for an apology even before she turned her head in his direction.
“How generous of you to say so,” she sneered. “Is there anything else or may I go now?”
“Damnit, Sophie. Can you blame me for thinking the worst?”
“Yes, I can,” she said fiercely. Her lovely mouth was thin with fury as the icy disdain in her hazel eyes sliced into him. “I have been nothing but honest with you, and yet you chose to believe the worst of me. And might I point out that you object to the very idea of anyone questioning your honor, while showing a callous disregard for the integrity of others.”
Quentin went rigid at the stinging accusation and clenched his teeth. His eyes locked with her scathing gaze as he struggled to respond. When he didn’t answer, Sophie shook her head.
“And to further my point, my lord. If you had not preempted our wedding night, none of this would even be a subject for discussion. I would have been long gone.”
The sharp reply made him stiffen with remorse. He didn’t like the fact that he already regretted having bedded her in this broken down shack, but hearing her voice the fact only emphasized his feelings of guilt. Without thinking, he struck back.
“I don’t recall any objections,” he said tightly. “In fact, if I remember correctly, you instigated the incident by kissing me, and you were more than eager for me to bed you.”
She blanched at his rough words, and a knot swelled in Quentin’s throat making it difficult to breathe let alone speak. Fuck, he truly was a bastard. He stretched out his hand to her, but she quickly stumbled backward.
“My brother is waiting,” she rasped. “Good day, my lord.”
Without giving him the opportunity to stop her, Sophie fled as if he were the devil himself. An apt description. He uttered a soft oath, but didn’t move from where he stood as she disappeared around the side of the small cottage. Seconds later, he watched Sophie and her brother ride off toward Townsend Hall.
He hadn’t expected her to look back, but the fact that she didn’t even turn her head in his direction made him frown then grunt with irritation. Sophie had finally seen his true colors today. Did he expect her to forgive his cruel accusations without hesitation? The answer he heard deep inside merely increased his ill temper.
“Goddamnit.”
He turned and threw the cottage door open. As he yanked his overcoat off the wall hook, his gaze came to rest on the narrow cot. His body tensed as the memory of making Sophie his ripped through him. The sound of her excited cries still echoed in his ea
rs, and he could still smell her sweet scent as he’d buried his face in her neck after his release. He couldn’t remember a more pleasurable experience. But it wasn’t just the delicious feel of her body against his. He liked the sound of her laughter, the way her hazel eyes flashed with gold flecks when she was teasing him or when she was angry.
“Christ Jesus, Devlyn. You’re acting like a besotted, inexperienced youth,” he muttered fiercely. “Bed the woman as often as you can. You’ll tire of her soon enough.”
Unbidden came the question of what he would do if she tired of him first. He drew in an angry hiss of air into his lungs as he shrugged into his coat with a sharp movement. Tugging his sleeves downward, he turned toward the open doorway. He’d be damned if he’d allow that to happen.
Chapter 8
Sophie brushed raindrops off her riding habit as she stepped into the back hallway of Townsend Hall. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made her as angry as Quentin had when he’d suggested she and Spencer had plotted together. Even her father and Eleanor’s vicious taunts no longer held much sting. But his suggestion that she’d encouraged him to forego any restraint and anticipate their wedding night had cut deep.
She winced at the confession. In the space of a few short minutes, she’d gone from outrage to humiliation. Perhaps he was right in reminding her that she’d not protested his advances at all. She’d done nothing to reject him. If anything, she’d responded to him with the abandon of a woman eager to sin with him. His accusation was not far off the mark, but the truth had not been any less painful to hear.
Walking away from him had been the only thing she could do to hide the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. It would have been humiliating enough if he’d known how deeply he’d wounded her, but even worse was the thought of him laughing at her tears. Her body grew taut at the revelation. Was she already in over her head?
