Two Shades of Seduction

by Monica Burns

As they entered the house, Caesar and Beast barreled out of the study to greet them. For the first time that morning, a smile curved Sophie’s lips as she moved forward to rub their large heads with obvious affection. The dogs jostled each other to receive her attention, and a soft laugh parted her lips. Bloody hell. He wanted her to smile at him not the damn dogs.

  Irritation flooded him. He knew why she was shutting him out, and he didn’t like the reason why. Insulting her yesterday had not been his best moment. With a flick of his wrist, the animals obeyed the silent command and returned to his study. For the first time since he was a boy, he found himself without a witty remark or a seductive phrase to draw out into the open the woman he’d found so intriguing from their first meeting. This Sophie was a stranger. She’d completely shut herself off to him.

  “Would you like me to show you to your bedchamber?” His question sent a flash of something indefinable across her face before that serene mask of hers settled on her features once more.

  “No. You’ve fulfilled your part of our agreement, and I wish to do the same. I’d like to review the ledgers with you to answer any questions you might have.”

  “I don’t believe that’s necessary, I—”

  “It is necessary for me.”

  The determined tilt of Sophie’s chin announced she wasn’t about to be swayed in her purpose. Quentin acquiesced to her silent demand by swinging his arm out in a silent invitation to precede him into the study. What the devil had he gotten himself into? He’d not expected marriage to be a battle of wills. Up until yesterday, Sophie had seemed quite manageable. Now he wasn’t so sure. It put him at a disadvantage, and he didn’t like the sensation one bit.

  § § §

  Sophie moved through the doorway into Quentin’s study. It was as powerfully masculine as she remembered. She pulled in a deep breath and removed her gloves as she waited for her husband to follow her into the room. Husband. The single word contained so much emotion. Particularly a number of feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge on any level.

  As he walked past her, she breathed in the woodsy scent of him. The same one that had caressed her senses yesterday. She swallowed the knot that had swelled in her throat. The man didn’t even have to touch her, and she was ready to fall into his arms. Her lack of willpower where he was concerned appalled her.

  The insults he’d leveled at her at the cottage had been more painful than she wanted to admit. The accusations had aroused emotions that frightened her. She’d already discovered how easily she melted in his arms. But his ability to injure her with just a few well-chosen words terrified her. It meant she needed to protect her heart well. Maintaining her composure was the only thing that stood between her and possible destruction.

  Sophie watched in silence as Quentin came to an abrupt halt in front of his desk and stared at the satchel Fischer had placed on his desk just a few moments ago. He turned his head toward her and frowned.

  “You said you had few things to bring with you,” he said with a frown.

  “One piece of luggage was more than enough for my personal belongings. This one contains the ledgers I promised you.”

  “You were able to fit everything you own into one bag?” The astonishment in his question almost made her laugh. She could only assume he was accustomed to women consumed with fashion and their appearance.

  “As I said, I had few belongings to bring with me.” She shrugged.

  Slowly, his gaze still fixed on her, Quentin circled the desk. When he opened the bag, he stared down at the stacks of green ledgers she’d filled the satchel with.

  “Christ Jesus, Sophie. How many of these are there?”

  “I think there are twenty-five in total, including the two I’ve already given you.”

  “Twenty-five…” Quentin narrowed his gaze at her. “How long have you been tracking your father’s false entries?”

  “Five years. I started keeping records shortly after he stole your fortune.”

  “God almighty,” he rasped. “Do you have any idea what your father would have done if he had caught you with these?”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t have been pleasant.”

  “Not pleasant…” A dark frown furrowed Quentin’s brow as he glared at her. “I should thrash you myself for doing something so foolhardy.”

  “There is little point in quibbling over something that is said and done.” She pointed out in a crisp manner.

  “Just because it’s over and done with doesn’t mean it wasn’t a foolish thing to do,” he snarled. “If you ever do something so ill-advised or dangerous again, I will see to it that you rue the day. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Quite,” she said between clenched teeth.

  For a man who’d just received a gift of gold in the form of information, he wasn’t acting excited at all. In fact, he was acting just like she imagined a husband would act when he discovered his wife had done something he didn’t approve of. He scowled at her for a long moment then closed the satchel.

  “I’ll review these later,” he growled. “The truth of the matter is, the two ledgers you gave me are more than enough to regain my fortune.”

  He set the leather bag aside then reached for the green account book sitting to one side of his desk. Quentin flipped open the book thumbing through pages until he’d reached the spot he was looking for. With an arrogant wave of his hand, he silently commanded her to join him on the other side of the room’s largest piece of furniture.

  She hesitated for a moment, but as he lifted his gaze to meet hers, she knew better than to question his authority at the moment. The forbidding expression on his features made her realize he wasn’t about to let her argue. When she reached his side, he pointed to one of the entries she’d made.

  “It says here your father uses two warehouses on Lilliput Road near the Royal Victoria docks. What does he normally store there?”

  “Whatever his ships bring into port,” she said in puzzlement.

  “Does he own the warehouses?”

  “No, he rents out space from a Mr. Mearn. My father uses several of Mr. Mearn’s warehouses for storage of goods.”

  “What about this entry.” Quentin pointed to another line. “Is this another warehouse your father uses?”

  “Yes,” she said with a nod. “That one is owned by Mr. Appleton. My father uses his warehouse whenever Mr. Mearn is unable to accommodate any of the goods that arrive at the docks.”

  “Good.” Quentin nodded as he studied the open ledger with a contemplative frown. “One of these two is certain to owe money to either the bank or an individual. I’ll see to it that Mearn or Appleton have no space available when your father has need of it. He’s about to lose one or two accommodating partners.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll either buy Mearns and Appleton out, or I’ll secure a large enough percentage of their business to ensure my shipments fill their warehouses, not your father’s. I have several shipments coming into port in the next three weeks, and I’ve been looking for warehouse space.”

  “And if you own part or some of the warehouse you can either refuse my father space or make him pay a higher price.”

  “Precisely. Either way he’ll suffer a loss, whether from selling his cargo for a lower price just to get rid of it or by paying me a higher price simply for the privilege of storing it.”

  The simplicity of the plan made her believe it wouldn’t be long before Quentin had her father on the brink of financial ruin. An act she was party too. Guilt washed over her. He’d warned her about having second thoughts, and she’d assured him that she would not falter. She quickly reminded herself that her father’s business dealings were far from legal in the majority of cases, and he’d cheated many people out of their money. Still the taste of betrayal and revenge was bitter in her mouth.

  “I seem to recall asking you before we married as to whether or not you would find the guilt easy to bear.”

  The harsh, inflexible note in his vo
ice reflected the resolute set of his mouth as she looked up from the ledger. Shards of glass could not have been any sharper in color than his green eyes. Sophie straightened her shoulders and met his gaze steadily.

  “I remember.” Her heart skipped a beat as his forefinger trailed its way across her cheek.

  “It would be inhuman not to feel guilt, Sophie. What you call betrayal, I call justice. Your father will reap what he’s sown.”

  His voice was gentle, almost tender, and her heart stopped for a fraction of a second before it resumed its beat as his finger traced the outline of her mouth. Her pulse fluttered as she drew in a breath of air. She would have been better off not breathing. The scent of pine needles and leather soap filled her nose. It was a potent smell that was everything dangerous male. This time she did stop breathing as she saw something primordial flared to life in his eyes.

  A seductive smile curved his sensual mouth, and desire swirled in her belly. God, how could she crave his touch after the things he’d said to her yesterday? Part of her wanted nothing more than to denounce him for his cruel words. While the other half of her wanted to fling herself into his arms.

  Even though she knew he’d see it as a sign of weakness, she took a quick step backward. Her retreat made him arch his eyebrow, and he smiled. It was a teasing smile that beckoned her to forgive him. She resisted the temptation to do so. She didn’t want to forgive him, any more than she wanted to feel his touch again. Liar. She wanted him to touch her again and again. Desperate to escape, she fought to control her erratic breathing so she could speak coherently.

  “My lord, if you’ll excuse me, this morning’s events have been quite tiring, and I’d like to rest for a while.”

  “Shall I show you to your room?” A frown of what looked like concern swiftly replaced his smile. She dismissed the notion as she shook her head.

  “That won’t be necessary, I’m certain Fischer, or the housemaid, will be able to help me find my way.”

  She didn’t wait to hear his response. She simply walked out of the room without a backward glance.

  § § §

  Sophie awoke with a jerk. She wasn’t accustomed to remembering her dreams. The dream had been so vivid she could almost feel the pressure of a hard masculine body against hers and a mouth as hot as sin working its way across her skin. Trembling, she sat up to look around the room Fischer had shown her to when she’d fled Quentin’s study. The bedroom had once been quite lovely, but now the curtains, coverlet, and carpet were all well past their prime. Her mouth twisted in an ironic grimace. Not unlike herself.

  Despite its aged appearance, there was still a quaint charm about the room. It was clean and welcoming, even down to the fresh flowers in the vase beside her bed. Her gaze drifted to the wall opposite the window. The wooden door was a reminder that the man in her dreams was now her husband. She frowned slightly then turned her head back to the window. From where she sat on the bed, she could see the sun was low on the horizon, which meant she’d slept most of the afternoon.

  She’d not slept well last night, and her nap had been a welcome relief from the stressful morning. Leaving her father’s house had been easier than she’d anticipated. Over the course of the past three days, she’d smuggled her ledgers out of her father’s office. Spencer had smuggled her luggage out of the house in the early morning hours.

  Sliding off the bed, she moved to the dressing table. The bedraggled woman staring out at her from the mirror made Sophie wince. Someone had unpacked her things and laid them out on the table. Her fingers stroked the handle of her mother’s brush before she quickly pulled the pins from her hair. As she brushed her hair, she wondered if her father had found her letter yet.

  Whether he sought her out or not, the only thing she expected from him was anger. A small part of her still hoped he might harbor some feelings for her, but deep inside she knew it was a futile hope. She wasn’t even his child, why on earth would he love her. Why would any man want a bastard child? Sophie closed her eyes. Quentin didn’t know the truth, and she needed to tell him.

  Fingers trembling, she pulled her hair up and pinned it into a somewhat presentable style. Her appearance was the least of her problems. The Earl of Devlyn was her most pressing difficulty at the moment. She’d denied being a liar, and yet she’d not shared her darkest secret. A shudder rippled through her. Quentin would never forgive her for marrying him under false pretenses. She flinched at the thought.

  Things had been made all the more difficult by his behavior since this morning. She looked down at her hand as she recalled him squeezing it during the marriage ceremony. It had been a gesture of reassurance that all would be well. Then there had been his outraged disapproval in his study when he’d seen how many ledgers she’d kept. His reaction had been that of someone concerned for her safety. No one other than Spencer had ever cared what happened to her.

  Although Quentin had not apologized for yesterday, she knew he wasn’t the kind of man who would find it easy to apologize. His pride wouldn’t let him admit that he’d been wrong. The knowledge didn’t ease the pain his words had caused her, but his considerate and supportive manner had been a silent indication of his regret. A regret he shouldn’t be feeling when she really was the liar he’d declared her to be.

  The one thing she couldn’t lie about was her reaction to him. She should be ashamed of herself for craving his touch. She was far too old to be enthralled with a man so much younger. But as much as she wanted to deny it, the pleasure she’d experienced yesterday had been wickedly sinful, and it had only intensified her desire for him. There could be only one outcome for her if she didn’t keep her heart safe. The only problem was that she wasn’t sure she could.

  Another shudder rippled through her as she stared at her reflection. No matter how much she might be attracted to Quentin she couldn’t allow herself to succumb to his touch again. It was too dangerous. Yesterday had illustrated how easy it would be for her to surrender her heart to her husband, and if that happened, she’d be lost. No. Yesterday would be her only taste of pleasure in Devlyn’s arms. She couldn’t risk her heart with another encounter.

  Chapter 10

  Quentin frowned as his latest attempt to draw Sophie into a conversation failed. Yesterday had been a disaster. No, it had been the most pleasurable experience he ever recalled having. At least it had been until his brother-in-law had barged into the cottage and things had fallen apart. It also hadn’t helped that they’d parted badly yesterday. His fingers drummed softly against the white table linen as he studied her pushing her food around on her plate.

  “Cook will be disappointed when she learns you didn’t enjoy your dinner.”

  “It’s quite delicious,” she said as her gaze jerked upward to meet his. “I’m simply not hungry.”

  “Perhaps you would prefer dessert.”

  He knew precisely what dessert he wanted, and from her startled expression, he could tell she understood his double entendre. Unfortunately, she seemed far from receptive to the idea. In fact, she looked miserable. So unhappy that he had the sudden urge to go to her and hold her close. He drew in a quiet breath and released it in soft frustration.

  Somehow, he didn’t think she would be all that receptive to that idea either. Discouraged by the tension between them, Quentin took another swallow of wine then set the crystal glass down hard enough to have wine slosh out and stain the tablecloth red. He stared at the ever-widening spot. Yesterday he’d taken Sophie as if she were a woman off the streets.

  The woodcutter’s cottage had been the wrong place to initiate her in the art of pleasure. But he intended to make it up to her. He’d see to it that tonight would be special. Quentin’s gaze returned to his wife as she laid her fork down in a deliberate movement and dropped her napkin onto the table.

  “If you’ll excuse me, my lord. I believe I shall retire. It’s been an exhausting day.”

  “You did not rest well this afternoon?” Quentin narrowed his gaze at her in puzzlement. L
ong day? Hell, she’d spent the entire afternoon in her bedroom.

  “The bed was quite comfortable. I simply find all of it a bit…unsettling.” Her fingers toyed with her discarded napkin. “Although I was happy to leave my father’s house, it was nonetheless the only home I’ve ever known.”

  “You’re safe here, Sophie,” he said quietly. “You do know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” She gave him an odd look of confusion then quickly rose from her chair and headed toward the dining room door. “Goodnight, my lord.”

  “Surely, you’ve not forgotten our agreement, Sophie.” As he spoke, she jerked her head in his direction, and to his surprise, her expression was a mixture of fear and anger. The anger he understood. But the fear troubled him.

  “I consider our agreement to be complete,” she bit out coldly. “I have provided you with the means for your revenge, and you’ve fulfilled your part of the bargain to my satisfaction.”

  Speechless, Quentin didn’t move as she walked stiffly toward the dining room door. Fulfilled his part of the bargain to her satisfaction? It was as if she’d kicked him in the stomach. He didn’t like the sensation one bit. He hadn’t even begun to complete his part of their arrangement. What had happened yesterday had been only the beginning, and he wasn’t about to let her walk away from him so easily.

  Shoving back his chair from the table, he was on his feet in a split second. With three long strides, he crossed the dining room floor to catch up with her just as she reached the door. With a quick twist of the key, he locked the door then tucked the key in his pocket. Serenely composed, she steadily met his gaze. Anyone would have thought them having nothing more than a casual conversation, if it weren’t for the shimmer of trepidation in her beautiful hazel eyes.

  “If this is about yesterday, then I deserve your anger,” he said tightly as he stretched out his hand to stroke her cheek. “I am guilty of misjudging you.”

  “I…” Her words trailed off into silence. For a brief moment, guilt darkened her expression before her composure returned. “I’m certain we both said things that are best forgotten, my lord.”