The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest (19 page)

“Dear, God, you’re exquisite,” he groaned,
reaching under her gown to slip a finger into the slit of her
pantaloons. “I’ve got to be inside you.”

She raised herself up, as anxious for the
union as Holt. He separated her with his fingers and kissed her
before impaling her in one long thrust. Nothing existed but the
feel of him thrusting into her, his mouth possessing hers with
greedy need.

She had to get closer
. Sophie gripped
his shoulders and rubbed her breasts along his chest.
Yes, oh
yes!
Holt jerked against her, grabbing her buttocks from
beneath her twisted gown and driving into her so deeply she
screamed her pleasure.

“Let yourself go, Sophie.
Now.
”

He pumped into her one last time and let out
a hoarse cry, spilling his hot seed into her as she quivered with
release, shattering into a thousand pulsing fragments of sensation,
her husband’s name on her lips, his groans of pleasure buried deep
in her heart.

Chapter 23

There were two empty seats in the dining room
the next morning. Neither had been occupied earlier, Jason noted
with an amused smile, as he’d been up since slightly past dawn,
fully expecting his brother’s wrath and wanting to be done with it.
Apparently, Holt had been otherwise engaged.

“Well, what do you think?” Julia
whispered.

“About what?” he looked at his sister,
feigning ignorance.

“Oh, don’t be obtuse. You know exactly what I
mean. Do you think they’ve patched things up?” Her voice slipped a
notch. “Do you think they shared the same bed?”

Casting her a warning look, Jason attempted
to sound stern, “I would not venture to guess, nor should you.”

“You’re not even curious?”

“No.” No need for curiosity when he’d wager a
ship Sophie and his brother had indeed shared a bed, were at this
very moment,
still
sharing a bed.

“I think they did.” Before he could respond,
Julia slipped in another thought. “She’s hopelessly in love with
him.”

“Possibly.”

“Obviously, not possibly.”

“That, too.”

“I think he’s in love with her and well you
know what usually happens when two people are in love . . . ” her
voice trailed off. For all of her bluster, she was still such an
innocent.

Jason smiled in spite of himself. “Yes, I do
believe I’ve heard tell.” He grinned at the withering look she gave
him. “It would make life much more pleasant around here.”

“And prove Francie right,” Julia said,
sliding him a smug smile.

“What does
that
woman have to do with
Holt?”

“Why would you ask that question in such a
manner?”

“No reason.”
Other than Francie Bishop and
her outrageousness.

“Do you dislike her?”

“She’s a bad influence on you.”

“Because she prefers to ride astride as do
I?”

“In her husband’s breeches?”

Julia wrinkled her nose at him. “I’ve been
wearing yours for years.”

“Not in public. Good grief, the woman doesn’t
care who sees her cavorting around barefoot on the front lawn in
her husband’s breeches with dogs and geese.”

“I believe they’re ducks.”

He frowned at her.

“Everyone loves Francie.”

“Not everyone,” he grumbled.

Her gaze narrowed on him in sudden
understanding. “
You’re
the one who’s been trying to keep us
apart! And all this time I thought it was Alexander Bishop.”

Jason looked away and shrugged. “You’re
free-spirited enough without anyone else encouraging you to behave
like a wild woman.”

“I should be permitted to choose my own
friends.”

“Not when the friends permit dogs to romp
around the drawing room.”

“They’re well-trained.”

“You think it’s perfectly normal for a dog to
sprawl on his master’s sofa?”

It was Julia’s turn to shrug and look away.
“Francie says Alexander isn’t fond of the idea but he tolerates it.
Compromise is crucial to a good marriage you know.”

“No, I wouldn’t know.”

“She’s my friend, Jason. I wish you could
overlook her peculiarities and allow me to enjoy her friendship.”
She turned that pleading gaze on him and he knew he was finished.
“Couldn’t you at least try?”

There was that voice, spoken with such honest
intention he could do no more than mumble, “I’ll try.”

He guessed he could attempt patience with her
barnyard of animals, and perhaps even the barefoot cavorting could
be overlooked, as well as the breeches, though thank God she didn’t
sport those when she was with child. Bishop at least appeared to
have a say in that. Jason could even overlook the various strange
tasting muffins and breads that randomly presented themselves at
his supper table, substance offerings from Julia’s experiments in
Francie Bishop’s kitchen.

But the eyes, now that’s what truly unmanned
him. They were so blue, so startling, and so clearly resembled
those of the woman who had stolen his heart and crushed it years
ago.

“Do you think love conquers all, Jason?”
Julia asked. “You know, like the stories say they do?”

He met her gaze and forced his words to
remain steady. “Not always, Julia.” And then as an afterthought he
said, “Actually, almost never.”

***

“Did you know, Madame Wife, your hair has
shades of red and gold running through it that shimmer in the
light?” Holt smiled at Sophie as he smoothed her hair onto the
pillow. “And,” he continued, “it’s softer than the richest silk in
the Orient.”

“Do tell,” she whispered.

“And then there are your breasts,” he said as
he traced their plump curves. His hand slid to her belly, inching
lower. “And your beautiful, tight —”

“Stop!” Sophie turned crimson.

He smiled slowly. “Stop what darling? This,”
he stroked her nubbin until she gasped with shock and pleasure. “Or
is it my honest words which embarrass you?”

“Both.”

“Would you like me to stop?”

She shook her head a vigorous
no
.

“Good.” He wondered if he would ever get
enough of her. They’d made love throughout the night and finally
fallen into an exhausted sleep somewhere before dawn. When they
woke, Sophie lay wrapped in his arms, cradled beside him with her
bottom pressed intimately against his arousal. He’d merely lifted
her leg slightly and slipped his throbbing shaft into her, drawing
and withdrawing ever so slowly as he taught her yet another equally
exciting lesson in the art of lovemaking.

“Holt?”

“Yes?”

She stroked his cheek. “Make love to me.”

“It’s too soon . . . after last night.”

“I want you.”

God, she was killing him. “Sophie—”

“Take me.”

“But—”

“Take me, Holt. Now.”

Her soft command proved a heady aphrodisiac
he could not resist. He settled his body over and into hers,
reveling in the feel of being tightly sheathed inside her, with her
long legs wrapped around his waist. They moved together, she
bucking under him, and he driving into her, deeper and needier,
until finally they exploded in each other's arms.

***

It was well after two in the afternoon when
Holt settled himself in his study. Jason had been waiting for him,
not wanting to intrude on his brother’s new found bliss and yet
anxious to clear the air. Furthermore, there was another pressing
matter that needed discussing.

Jason knocked on the door and entered. Holt
sat behind the desk with several ledgers spread out before him. Was
he humming? Good God, the man was well and truly besotted! Jason
cleared his throat and approached the desk.

The humming ceased immediately as Holt looked
up and muttered, “I must look like a lovesick fool to you.”

“Humming, eh?” Jason grinned. “I didn’t even
know you knew what humming was.”

“Actually, I doubt I did. But right now, I
feel as though I could fly.”

“Good Lord.”

“I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He
cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology for my behavior last
night.”

“Indeed you do.” Jason paced the room,
enjoying the few moments when he actually had the upper hand over
his older brother. “I was merely protecting your innocent wife’s
virtue from those wolves, need I say more?” His smile faded when he
noticed the dark look on Holt’s face. “I owe you an apology as
well. I never should have let those two little minxes talk me into
going out. But Christ, it was worse than an infernal cemetery with
everyone waiting for your return and no one wishing to speak of it.
After the first day, your name was never mentioned, in polite
inquiry or otherwise. We thought to spare Sophie, and all the while
she was trying her damnedest to spare us with her feigned
cheerfulness. I think I gave in because I wanted them to forget
about you for just a little while, but I realized my mistake the
moment we entered the ballroom.”

“Spare me the details. Suffice it to say, we
were both in error and leave it at that.”

“Done.” Jason paused a moment, weighing his
next words carefully. “While you were gone I sent word to the West
Indies. I thought perhaps you ventured there, but apparently you
haven’t been in twelve years.”

“That would be correct.”

“What happened? The letter from our uncle
said you took off when he tried to strip you of what he called your
clinging ways and fearfulness.” When Holt didn’t respond, Jason
pressed on, “That didn’t sound like you. Even back then, scrawny or
not, I’ve never known you to back down from anything. What really
happened?”

Holt sat back and regarded Jason through
narrowed eyes. “There were twenty or thirty of us when I arrived,
all upper crust, next in line to inherit. We were lacking due to
one infirmity or another, be it physical or mental. Our uncle’s job
was to beat it out of us.”

“Good God.”

“Whips. Chains. Rope. Even dogs that would
chase you for hours until your feet bled and you thought your lungs
would burst.”

“I had no idea—”

“Edward knew.”

“He may have been a lot of things, but
this?”

“He knew.”

“You’re certain?”

“The night before I left, he told me I would
probably hate him for sending me away. He said Uncle’s methods were
primitive but the results would justify any discomfort I might
experience. I had no idea what he meant until I got off the boat
and saw five young men strung from a tree, naked. They were
blindfolded, dangling by their feet, crying in pain. That’s when I
knew Edward absolutely understood what was about to happen to
me.”

“Were you tortured?”

Holt looked away. “I was beaten and strung up
like the others; an initiation of sorts. Food was withheld for
three days. I was stuck in a cell, naked, bound, and blindfolded. I
escaped on the sixth day.”

Jason could only stare, wondering how the
former fragile Holt had possibly survived. “How?”

“A ship docked. I hid below deck. No one
found me for a week. By then they were at sea. Captain Harry
Thurston took me under his wing.”

“You couldn’t even swim.”

“I learned.”

“No wonder you hated our father so much.”

“It’s over. I’d rather not trouble Sophie or
Julia with the details.” He paused and added, “Ever.”

“Understood. Speaking of Sophie,” Jason
decided now was a good time to switch from talk of whips and
torture to something more pleasant, “how is your bride?”

“She’s fine.”

“Then I take it the only thing left to seal
your fate is to tell her you love her and settle a passel of kids
on her.”

Holt’s expression remained unreadable.
“Perhaps.”

“She’s a treasure. Don’t lose her again over
foolish pride.”

“I don’t intend to.”

“Good. Now there’s something else I need to
discuss with you.” He hesitated, uncertain how to proceed.

“Out with it man.”

Out with it indeed
. “Very well.
Caroline is our sister.”

Holt nodded. “Yes, she is.”

“You knew?”

“Caroline and I resemble one another more
than she and Sophie. I did a few calculations and figured it out.
That would explain why Rendhaven and Vivian all but ignored the
poor child, leaving the burden of care with Sophie.”

“Does Sophie know?”

“That’s the hell of it,” Holt said. “I don’t
know and I don’t want to break the news to her now if she doesn’t,
not when we’re finally coming to terms with one other. It could be
disastrous.”

“Ah, love can be such a burdensome thing, can
it not?” Jason mused, laughing at the murderous look Holt gave him.
“All jesting aside, tell her as soon as possible, for your own
sake. She may already know and be fearful of the same response from
you. Neither of you had anything to do with our father or Lady
Rendhaven’s actions and you should not be punished or governed by
them any longer. Deal with it, Holt, and be done with it.”

Chapter 24

“This hot chocolate is wonderful, isn’t it?”
Sophie said as she took another sip from her steaming mug. Caroline
nodded in agreement, her black curls bouncing about her shoulders.
They sat on Caroline’s bed, an open book and a tray of cookies
between them. This bedtime ritual had been a safe haven at Waverly
Manor and they’d continued it in their new home. In winter, they
shared hot chocolate with a healthy dollop of cream and in summer,
iced lemonade in frosty glasses. No matter the season, there were
always freshly baked cookies of every imaginable variety from
chocolate and vanilla to lemon and spice. “Are you happy here?” It
was a question she’d wanted to ask her little sister for several
days.