The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest (11 page)

“I’m not sure—”

“Like this.” He positioned her legs on either
side of him. “Now, put your knees on the bed.” He buried his hands
under her gown and gripped her buttocks. “Closer,” he murmured,
urging her toward him.

She moaned when his hardness pulsed against
her woman’s heat. “Should I lay down now?”

“No, my sweet. We’re going to do it, just
like this.” He lifted her onto his cock. “Take your time to get
used to me. We’ll go slow.”

He should have known there would be nothing
slow about this coupling. “Oooohhh,” she sighed with undisguised
delight as she slipped over him. Once, twice, she slid up and down
the length of him, fast, faster, until she was shouting, “Gregory!
Gregory, please!” Holt leaned back and thrust into her with bold,
desperate need. Again and again they came together until Sophie
shrieked her pleasure and collapsed against his chest. Holt thrust
into her welcoming body twice more and exploded.

Much later, Sophie lifted her head from his
chest and sighed. “Don’t look at me like that, Sophie.”

“Like what?” Her eyes shimmered as she
spoke.

“Like you want me to devour you again.”

She ran her tongue over her lips and smiled.
“Why would you think a thing like that?”

“No.” He was a strong man but if this kept
up, she’d be a widow in six months.

“No, what?”

“No, we are not going to make love again.”
There, he’d said it.

She cocked a brow and said, “Ever?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Not ever. Just not
right now.”

“Oh.” She looked away.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

Damn, the woman could be trying.

“It’s just that,” she hazarded him a quick
glance, “lovemaking is quite like eating chocolates.”

“It is?” His lovemaking had never been
compared to a piece of confection.

“Most definitely.”

“How so?” Was he marrying a lunatic?

“Every woman knows chocolate is quite
wonderful.”

“Hmmm.” He liked that.

“And though there are many kinds of sweets,
nothing is quite like
chocolate
.”

His lovemaking was unique.

“But every woman also knows one tiny bit of
chocolate is never enough.”

Tiny?
Was she implying his size was
inadequate
? He stiffened and waited.

“Therefore, every woman knows if one bite is
good, two bites are better.”

“You don’t say?”
What the hell was she
saying?

“Indeed.” Her lips curved into a knowing
smile.

“Hmmm.” And what was this about biting?
Biting what? Holt squirmed, uncomfortable with the mention of that
word in association with his cock.

“Yes, so there you have it. And Gregory, if
two bites are better,” she leaned close and brushed a kiss over his
lips, “three is exquisite.”

“Sophie, what
are
you talking
about?”

She stared at him, her eyes bright with
mischief and something else . . . desire? “I want you, Gregory,”
she said, all hints of teasing aside. “Once, twice,” she kissed his
mouth, “three times.”

“Three times?” She’d be a widow in one
month.

“Every day.”

Correct that prior calculation; two
weeks.

“I must believe if the first time we made
love was so wonderful and the second even better, what will the
third be like? And the fourth? And the sixteenth?”

Ah, so now he understood. The woman planned
to rate their sexual encounters. All of them.

“Sophie, each time we make love will be as
special as or even better than the last time.”

She nodded her head in eager agreement. “I
know.”

He brushed an auburn lock from her forehead.
“But we can’t make love sixteen times in one day.”

“I know that.”

“Good.” He smiled and brushed his lips over
her temple.

“Four times a day, no less than three.”

Was she mad? “I’ll be a dead man.”

“Well then, what are you offering?”

Was she serious? They were negotiating their
lovemaking?

“Twice a day,” he said, “but no less than
once a day.”

“Deal!” she said with such conviction he
wondered if it had been her plan all along.

“While we’re on the subject of lovemaking,
there is the little matter of the marriage.”

“Oh yes, there is that,” she murmured,
settling her head on his chest with a long sigh.

“What do you say to three week’s time?”

“Three weeks?” Her head popped up and she
stared at him as though he’d just admitted to wearing women’s
drawers. “Where will we live? And what of Caroline? And your
family, I know nothing of them.”

“Caroline will come with us, no matter where
we go. I’m looking at property nearby that should suit us nicely. I
very much want you to meet my family but that will have to wait
until I return from London.”

“London?”

“I’m leaving in the morning on a few days of
business. When I return, we’ll settle everything.”

“I shall miss you horribly.”

“Soon, we’ll be together every day.”

She kissed a nipple. “And every night.”

“Yes, there is that.”

“Indeed.”

“Once I return we’ll discuss the details of
the wedding and you’ll meet my family.”

She stroked his cheek. “Will they like
me?”

“It’s not them I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about me?”

He avoided a direct answer. “My family is
different. I want to make certain you don’t cry off after you meet
them.”

She hugged him. “You could tell me your
sister was a three-headed monster who ate dragons, and I would
still marry you.”

His hold on her tightened.
And what if
they were Langfords, would you still marry me then?

Chapter 12

A solitary figure crouched behind a cluster
of trees, eyes narrowed on the couple emerging from the cottage.
They had no idea they were being watched, which made the whole
affair so much more tantalizing.

The man’s tanned fingers brushed a tumble of
auburn hair from the Seacrest woman’s neck. The woman laughed
softly when he leaned in close and placed a lingering kiss behind
her left ear.

Damn the bitch!
She would pay for
taking something that wasn’t hers.

The figure backed away from the trees.

Soon, the Seacrest chit would pay dearly for
her indiscretions.

Very soon.

***

Sophie stared at the ledgers spread out
before her. Business continued to decline and she could no longer
blame it all on the blasted Langfords for her father rarely spent
time with the business and when he did, his decisions were erratic
and driven by his current mood.

With her thoughts in turmoil, Sophie did not
hear the library door open. She glanced up from the ledger to find
her aunt standing beside her, arms crossed over her flat chest, a
scowl pasted on her thin face. “Is it not passing strange that Mr.
Thurston left for London the very day after you announced your
betrothal?”

Sophie feigned indifference. “He had urgent
business to attend to.” Had he not told her it was imperative he
travel to London and deal with said business posthaste?

“A man as virile as he is must certainly have
at least one mistress. Have you considered that?”

“No.” She would be enough for him. Wouldn’t
she?

“Employ reason,” Aunt Vivian persisted. “Of
course he has a mistress, probably several if he’s as widely
traveled as he says. Don’t look at me as though I’ve told you some
horrific tale. I’m merely asking you to employ logic.”

“You’re trying to destroy my happiness.”

“I’m trying to protect you from your own
stupidity,” she corrected. “Men like him aren’t capable of love.
Remember, naiveté is worse than hemlock and twice as deadly.”

***

“Now, you must promise not to say a word of
what I’m about to tell you,” Julia whispered.

“Of course, I’ll not say a word,” Francie
Bishop whispered back. “Have I ever betrayed a confidence in the
seven months we’ve known one another?”

“No, and I’m not doubting you now. It’s just
that if this information erupts prematurely, there could be grave
consequences.”

“Do tell.” Francie leaned closer. “Is
someone’s life in jeopardy?”

“No, nothing like that.” She gave Francie a
knowing look and said, “But someone’s heart is.”

“Ahhhh, I see.”

They sat in the Bishop’s drawing room,
sharing tea and cinnamon bread, the bread being one of Francie’s
latest concoctions. She was always concocting one thing or another,
matchmaking plans included.

“
Well?”

“Where’s your husband?”

“Alexander? He had a business meeting.
Why?”

“You know he doesn’t like me,” Julia said,
wanting to add the feeling was mutual.

“Of course Alexander likes you.” Francie
paused. “At least I think he does. Perhaps I should ask him.”

“Please don’t.”

There was something intimidating about the
man, even more so than Holt. Perhaps it was the fact that he rarely
smiled and when he met a person, he studied them as though he were
conducting an investigation for the Crown. It was quite unsettling.
And she wouldn’t mention the little chat they’d once had about
Julia filling his wife’s head with schemes and ideas. As though
Francie needed any help from her!

“I don’t know why you would think Alexander
doesn’t like you.”

“Perhaps because he neglects to inform you
when I’ve come calling.”

“He’s forgetful.”

“He makes a point of seeing that our seats
are rows apart at operas and recitals.”

“Hmmm. I did find that a bit odd. Do you
think he had something to do with that?”

“Who else? And why has he refused five dinner
invitations from Ellswood in the last several months even though he
and Jason are business acquaintances?”

“Why indeed?” Francie mused, rubbing her jaw.
“My goodness, Julia, perhaps he
doesn’t
like you.” They
looked at one another and burst out laughing. “I shall see to this
posthaste.” Francie sipped her chamomile tea and added, “Expect an
invitation to dinner by week’s end.”

“But Francie—”

She held up a hand and said, “Alexander
prides himself on manners and comportment. So be it.”

“Thank you.” Julia nibbled on the cinnamon
bread and concentrated on the reason for her visit. “I’m so
excited, I have to tell someone.”

“Yes?”

“You know the couple you set on
matching?”

“Sophie and Mr. Thurston?” Francie’s eyes lit
up as she spoke.

Julia nodded. “They’re engaged!”

“I knew it!” She clapped her hands and laid
them over her bulging middle. “I absolutely knew they’d suit. Do
tell, every last delicious detail.”

“Actually, I don’t have any details. Not
yet.” Holt had mentioned it in casual passing as he headed for the
carriage on his way to London this morning. And being Holt, there
was no wrestling further information, not even a time or place.

Jason hadn’t been much help either.
Unfortunately, this was the blasted day of the month when he
checked the estates and wouldn’t be home until supper. Julia had no
information but the most important; a Langford was wedding a
Seacrest. Of course, she couldn’t divulge that tidbit, not yet
anyway.

“No need to worry,” Francie said, clasping
Julia’s hand. “I’ll call on Sophie myself and congratulate
her.”

“I think you should wait until they post
bans, Francie. I get the impression Mr. Thurston is a very private
man.”

“Sophie is my friend.” She realized her error
as soon as she’d spoken the words. “I’m sorry. I know the two of
you were once very close.”

“We were. Perhaps one day we’ll be close
again.”

“One can only hope.”

“Yes,” Julia agreed. “One can only hope.”

Chapter 13

“Who would have believed Holt would walk back
into our lives and end this ridiculous feud between the families by
marrying Sophie? Love does prevail, does it not?”

Laughing at his sister’s sweet naiveté and
charming antics, Jason chuckled and hugged her. “Hold on a minute.
Holt mentioned nothing of being a peacemaker or ending feuds.”

“Meaning?”

“Sophie might not be aware of Holt’s true
identity.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. How could she
not
know? Holt may be many things, but stupid is not one of
them.” She hoisted herself onto the edge of his desk and swung a
leg back and forth. “How could any girl not fall madly in love with
a man who looks like a pirate? It’s the very stuff of fairy
tales.”

“He’s not a pirate.”

“So you say.” She threw him a sly smile. “In
all the times I’ve asked him, has he ever denied it?”

Jason sighed. “No.”

“Well, there you have it.”

“He probably thinks it is too ridiculous to
warrant a reply.”

She shrugged. “Edith thinks he’s a pirate. So
does, Marta. Even Gwen.”

“Good Lord, you’ve consulted the staff?”

“No.”

“Then how did you come by such
information?”

His sister grew most intent on a tiny string
dangling from the hem of her gown. “The wager book,” she
muttered.

“Wager book?”

“Mmmm.” She darted a glance at him. “They’re
betting chores on whether or not Gregory Thurston is a real pirate.
Think what they’d say if they knew who he
really
was.”

“Yes,” Jason mused, wondering if he should
fire the lot of them. “Just think.”

“They mean no harm. Please don’t mention
it.”

“You think the hired help placing bets on
their employer is harmless?” Did they make wagers on him, as
well?