The countess fairly bristled, and Sophie worked to suppress her smile. Her big, strong Lars was not above being challenged by this diminutive female. What a shame she could never marry Lars. Not only did that thought depress her beyond belief, but she couldn’t help but think of what an admirable team she and the countess would make. Lars wouldn’t stand a chance.
She hid a smile when Lars blushed like a schoolboy caught writing a note to his current crush.
“I might have, Mother. But believe me, I’ll make it up to her soon. All we need is a chance for me to explain a few things. Sophie is eminently reasonable, and I might need to apologize for being more uninformative than I should have been.”
Sophie wheeled to face him. “You presuming, arrogant
man
. Uninformative is too mild a word.” Then she drew herself up and turned back to the countess. “If I could be excused, madam, I’d like to freshen up a little. Then I assure you, Lars and I will have a little talk.”
The countess beamed on her. “Good for you, my dear. Lars needs a stronger hand than mine. I spoiled him dreadfully all his life.”
Lars’ eyebrows shot up, and Sophie swore she could see his peaked ears grow more prominent as she watched. Before she could say anything else, the butler came to the door.
“Milady, I tried to keep them away. You have visitors who barged right past me.”
“Oh demons below.” Lars groaned as he spotted the two women sailing through the door. They briefly greeted the countess and then headed straight for Lars. They were both beauties, one with hair a darker brown than Lars, and the other a gorgeous redhead.
“Lady Cynthia Fremont and Lady Annabelle Fordyce-Collins.”
The butler’s stoic announcement came a little late, as the two women zeroed in on Lars, both of them grabbing him and kissing a cheek.
Lars disengaged their hands and stepped back. “How surprising to see you both so quickly. Quite amazing. I arrived home only minutes ago.” His tone made plain his disdain for such poor manners.
The redhead flushed but the brunette gave an airy laugh.
“Oh then aren’t we lucky. We’ve called on your mother often though, and now to find you home is such a pleasure.”
Lars stood as rigid and stony as the marble bust statue of Pan that Sophie could see in the corner of the room. His voice sounded as cold as the sculpture.
“It’s a shame then that I have to ask you to leave. I’ll converse with you another time, but right now I have many things to discuss with my mother and my fiancée.”
He slightly emphasized the last word and both ladies wheeled and looked at Sophie.
“Fiancée? You’re joking.” The redhead seemed too astonished to say another word.
“Lady Fremont, I assure you I’m not.” Lars’ tone dripped icicles. “But we’re currently involved in discussing the wedding plans, so if you’ll excuse us, we’ll tell you what they are when we’ve decided on the details.”
The dark-haired visitor looked as if she’d explode with anger.
“Lars, you
must
be joking. This, this provincial? With that excuse of a bonnet? Why, she’s not even dressed in the best fashion.”
Lars strode to the door, where he found the butler waiting in the hall. “Simmons, please show the visitors out. At once.”
His freezing voice would have cowed any normal man or woman. Their two uninvited guests started to leave, both casting venomous looks at Sophie, who held her head high and returned a stony look of her own. Lars walked back to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her cheek. Sophie only hoped those arrogant hussies had seen him do so, and from the slight huff from Lady Annabelle she thought they had.
As soon as they were gone he held Sophie a little away from him.
“I’m so very sorry, my love. Those two harpies have always been impossibly headstrong. They’ve had no encouragement from me.”
The countess nodded. “Lars always tells the truth, you know. Those two seem to have some sort of rivalry going as to who gets Lars. It’s only been in their flighty heads. Lars would never lead a woman on.”
Sophie sighed and shook her head. She felt exhausted and bewildered, and she didn’t want to think at all for a while.
“Come, I’ll show you to your room. I hope you like it.”
His voice was soft and velvety but she was too tired to care.
The countess kissed her cheek. “Ring for anything you want. Now rest, dear girl. Everything will straighten out. Lars will never let you down.”
Tears sprang to Sophie’s tired eyes. She kissed the countess’ hand before turning away. Lars quickly tucked her own hand on his arm and, murmuring to her, led her from the room.
“When you’ve slept awhile and want to come back you have only to ring and your maid will escort you. It’s hard to find your way around this monster of a house until you’ve been here awhile. I’ll go with you now. I want to make sure you like your room.”
Sophie’s emotions were creating a firestorm in her head. She longed to have Lars console her as her lover, instead of being so damned courtly. His sheer masculinity, always devastating, now brought forth conflicting emotions. She wanted to rant at him for keeping her so in the dark. She wanted to be cherished and swept into such a passionate embrace they both lost control. She’d never give up her independence as a thinking woman, and he’d devalued that side of her by acting with such secrecy. But now the longing to be folded in his arms swamped her senses.
She wanted more than that. She wanted him inside her, his powerful body pulsing in hers until there was nothing in the world but their love.
She wanted him gone before she burst into tears.
He stopped in front of a door and threw it open, motioning Sophie to enter before him. Taking a deep breath, she regained her almost-lost equilibrium. Shades of blue and lavender—some light, some bright, some blended in lovely patterns of birds—greeted and soothed her. Oriental vases, probably priceless, held delphinium in their own varying shades of blue. Luxurious purple cushions were strewn on the beige chaise and armchairs. She walked to the nearest window and threw it open, closing her eyes for a moment as the fresh air, fragrant from the garden below, drifted in. The scent of flowers and new-mown grass that she loved. England’s lush countryside, that she’d never seen so in bloom and welcoming.
She turned as the door closed and found Lars was still there, his gaze solemn and fixed on her. She started to speak and then saw a little flame flicker in those expressive brown eyes and she stiffened. She’d come to her senses. He was not going to sweet-talk her out of her resentment. Or kiss her until she was as complaisant as he doubtless wished her.
Not this time.
He stepped closer and took her in his arms with a disarming gentleness.
“My love, I need to apologize and explain so much to you. Are you willing to listen to me?”
She fought down the urge to nestle closer and let him enfold her with his amazing strength,
“Not now, Lars. Not now. I need time alone.”
He stepped back and fixed her with a hot look that almost scattered her resolve to rest. Or at least put off resting until she’d once again explored his big, amorous body. One glance at his lower body showed his cock was ready to pleasure her to her heart’s content.
Lars’ face was a mixture of emotions she couldn’t quite decipher.
“I’ll let you go for now. But you are my love, my only love, and I want you to sleep with that thought. We’ll talk later and I’ll strive to get back in your good graces.”
He grabbed her, pressed a sizzling kiss on her lips, wheeled and left.
Almost immediately a knock sounded on the door and Sophie shouted, “Go away. Lars, I don’t want you and your seductive ways right now.”
The door opened and a maid poked her flushed head in.
“But, miss, I’m Betsey and I’m your personal maid. Can I help you get ready for a nap? Lord Lars says I’m to do all I can for you.”
Sophie shut her eyes against the apprehension on the girl’s face. Now the staff would think her an ogress as well as someone unworthy of their master.
She forced a smile. “Thank you for coming, Betsey. But I have no robe or nightdress to change into. I think I’ll curl up on the bed for a while.”
“But, miss, you have such lovely clothes in the armoire. Didn’t Lord Lars tell you he’d asked the countess to do some shopping for you? Let me get you a robe and help you out of your dress. You’ll rest better if you’re comfortable.”
Sophie said nothing. If she opened her mouth she’d probably burst into a tirade about impossible men and their high-handed ways. She let the girl help her out of her dress and uncoil her braid.
“Oh miss, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.”
Watching and feeling Betsey brush her hair with reverence was a new delight. Sophie thanked her and let her tuck her into the soft, inviting bed. She went to sleep with a smile on her face. Her father had always insisted she keep her hair covered. She’d never understood why, but she’d done as he said. If her hair was indeed special, could she somehow use it to drive Lars to distraction? The arrogant man deserved to suffer.
Chapter Five
She woke to the soft touch of Lars’ lips wandering over her face and ending with a seductive kiss. Before she had time to think she melted into his caress, throwing her arms around his neck to bring him closer.
“Ah love,” he whispered. “You are everything I’ve ever dreamed or wanted.”
She jerked herself back to reality. This was the lout who’d announced their engagement with no warning at all, and worse than that, no proposal. Who’d bought clothing for her as if she were a child incapable of choosing her own. Who’d never told her he was an impossibly wealthy count and aristocrat. Who’d never even mentioned his mother. She slipped out of his embrace, crossed her arms and glared.
She started to raise her hand, not sure she could bring herself to slap him, but Lars noticed and moved away from the bed. Springing from the bed, she put her hands on her hips and glared with renewed force.
“You unmitigated reprobate. Telling everyone we’re engaged without even mentioning a word to me. Presenting me to your mother with no warning. How could you embarrass me so, Lars?”
He moved to her again and lightly clasped her arms.
“I agree, I’m a reprobate. I’m not sure of the unmitigated though. I never planned to embarrass you. I’d like to explain, if you’ll listen.”
Sophie lay back and waited, fixing him with a look that plainly stated his explanation had better be good.
Lars sighed. “I’m not quite sure what happened. I told my mother how much I loved you and that I hoped to marry you. She evidently jumped to the conclusion that of course you felt the same about her darling son. I should have told you about her on the drive here, but I was trying to screw up my courage to propose. I couldn’t even get that done. My tongue seems tied around you, Sophie. I guess I’m a coward, after all.”
He looked so abject Sophie’s heart melted. Her Lars, afraid of proposing? She couldn’t marry him, but she could certainly accept his love. His passionate love that stirred her to her very soul. She’d worry about his ideas of marriage later.
He spoke of a wonderful future that could never be hers. But while she could, she’d enjoy his magnificent body. She’d mourn later. Probably for the rest of her life, but she’d seize this happiness while she could.
“You don’t have to propose, Lars. You know you’re the only one I’ll ever love. Although I can’t marry you, I’m yours for as long as you want me.”
His brown eyes shot with gold sparks as he took a step toward her. Then he stopped. “Sophie, why do you say you can’t marry me? You know I’ll gladly take on your burdens. I intend to find Mallory and relieve him of his freedom, if not his life. He’ll soon have no power over you.”
He paused and then added, taking her in his arms and holding her loosely, “And I’ll love and want you forever.”
She shook her head. “Lars, think a little. I can never be a proper wife for you. I’ve had no training in social life, let alone the life of a countess. I’ve done little except take care of my father and his writings. No fancy schooling, no knowledge of anything outside my own small sphere. I know nothing about the circles you move in. I have no training in anything but science and mathematics. I don’t even know how to dress like those butterflies who accosted you. You may not like those two, but you certainly deserve to marry someone similar, someone of your own station. Not someone tainted by being auctioned off as a sex slave.”
The golden sparks turned to chips of ice. “That’s the biggest bunch of hogwash I’ve ever heard. I don’t think I’d better say much right now. You’ve deeply insulted me, Sophie.”
He wheeled and strode away without another word, leaving Sophie staring after him, her fingers touching her lips.
Lars, her Lars, rejecting the passion she was aching to give him? She’d hoped he’d strip her naked and take her in every way he knew. He alone could take her to the sexual heaven she’d come to crave. She’d never touch another man if she couldn’t have Lars.
How had everything gone so wrong?
* * * * *
The next two days passed with strained conversation between Lars and Sophie. He didn’t desert her—he meticulously escorted her to dinner and made an effort to act as if everything was normal. Lars played long hours on the Broadway piano, the lovely music resounding throughout the house and out the open windows. Sophie took walks around the estate, marveling at the beautiful gardens and peaceful grounds surrounding Alfheimer. She often paused under the window where he was playing. She was in awe of his expert musical ability and loved to hear him play, even though many pieces were in a minor tone she regretted. She longed to hear him play joyous music and although she knew well how to bring that about, she found she couldn’t ask him to bed her again. Well, she didn’t mind asking, but she couldn’t stand another refusal. She constantly worried about how to get her relationship with Lars back to something approximating their former rapport and still allow her to avenge her father.
The countess, however, was too sharp to be fooled.
Dinner that night was informal, as usual. The countess had asked for their meals to be served in a lovely morning room. A large flower garden bloomed outside the big windows, and the scent of roses and lilies wafted through the open door. Seating only eight, it was much more relaxing than the formal dining room. That huge table could easily serve fifty and Sophie wondered if the countess had noticed her unease the first night.
Sophie dressed with particular care. She’d chosen a gown from those Lars ordered for her, marveling at his taste and how well it fit. She’d picked an ivory-colored gown, deeply cut in the front, with lace adorning the skirts from waist to the hem. She thought it becoming, and Betsey oohed and aahed when she put it on. Still it was Lars she wanted to impress. She purely hated the coolness between them. When she came to the doorway of the morning room Lars came to his feet, his eyes blazing with a fire she hadn’t seen for far too long. As soon as he’d seated her he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“You look especially beautiful tonight, Sophie. And you always rock me back on my heels. Can we…?”
He stopped speaking as the countess swept in. Amazingly impressive, even with her diminutive stature, both Sophie and Lars knew at once she was furious.
The Countess of Alfheim waited until the soup had been served. Sophie eyed her with admiration. She revered this woman, although now the gleam in her eyes was worrisome. At the moment she wanted nothing so much as to be alone with Lars and do anything she could to fan that spark she hadn’t seen for much too long. He’d kept his gaze veiled and impersonal whenever she’d entered a room since their quarrel.
The countess had her own agenda and she was determined to pursue it. She didn’t waste much time. As soon as the footmen removed the first course, she turned on Lars.
“I’m not at all pleased, Lars. An idiot can tell you and Sophia have had a disagreement. I don’t approve.”
Her use of her more formal name alarmed Sophie as much as the starchy tone.
Lars’ startled expression showed how rare admonishments from his mother were.
“Mama, you’re right. I’m afraid it’s mostly my fault. My stupid pride made me withdraw to think things over. I was about to apologize just now, and I will as soon as I have the chance.”
His contrite grin accompanied by an appealing glance disarmed his mother. Her fondness for him tempered her expression as she tried to keep it severe. Since she succeeded little at all, Sophie grinned back at them both. She treasured Lars and his mother’s relationship as a superior example of what a filial love could be. She couldn’t remember much about her mother, but she was certain there’d never been much warmth about their relationship.
Come to think of it, her father, much as she esteemed him, had never been what one could call loving. Kind and always an example of how the life of the mind could make one content, even to the point of being oblivious to lesser and mundane matters.
Another example of how different her life had been from Lars’. How could she even hope for something resembling permanency with him?
She saw the look of alarm on Lars’ handsome face, and knew he’d interpreted her thoughts.
The countess looked at them both and turned toward the door. “I think it’s time you settled matters, my son, I give you that chance. Now don’t botch it up, Lars.”
He looked highly amused at her uncustomary choice of words but said simply, “I’ll try my best not to, Mama.”
With a smile at both of them and a kiss on Sophie’s cheek, she sailed from the room. Not that she was big enough to resemble any kind of ship, but she certainly gave the impression of gliding through waters at her own speed.
As soon as she was out of sight, Lars strode to Sophie and took her in his arms.
“We can work anything out, love, if we both do our part. I’m sorry I got angry so quickly. I couldn’t stand you thinking I was so shallow I’d find the things you mentioned as important. We can work through them all if we’re together.”
She couldn’t resist his beautiful head bent over hers with a look of love that shattered her resolve to stay aloof, no matter what her treacherous heart shouted at her.
“Will you kiss me, Lars?”
She reached up and drew his head down, linking her hands behind his neck. His shining hair fell around his face and she smiled as she caught a glimpse of his beloved ears.
“Please, Lars.”
With a groan he took her lips with a hot kiss that melted her defenses. Raw sexual longing stabbed down her body, ending at that magical point between her legs that he alone could assuage. She rose on tiptoe, rubbing her lower body against his, a carnal enticement that elicited another groan from him. He grabbed her hips, grinding into her with a rock-hard erection, sending waves of pleasurable lust and longing through her.
“Lars, please come to me now.” She tilted her lower body to feel all of his male power. She adored that stiff cock and the fact she could so easily make him harden. He kissed her deeply for a long time, until her underwear dripped moisture and she writhed her hips against his. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back a little, smiling at him in anticipation.
“Will you marry me, Sophie?”
Not at all what she’d expected. How could he think of anything but carrying her to the nearest bed? Or chair. Or wherever she could take that huge cock into her pulsing body.
Marry him? Oh no. I want to so much. But I cannot ruin his life.
She fingered his hair, winding a lock of it around one finger. “Can we make love now and talk later? I do so crave your magnificent body.”
Kissing his lips, she felt their softness begin to stiffen. He stepped back enough that she couldn’t feel his cock pressing into her stomach. He’d been so huge and hard. How could he pull away? She could almost climax just thinking about how he’d pound into her.
To her dismay he took her shoulders and set her away from him.
“No, Sophie, we cannot. I desperately want to marry you and make love for the rest of our lives. I will spend my life making sure you’re happy. But I will not bed you again unless we are officially affianced and our wedding date set.”
She dropped her arms and slowly drew away. The fire in her turned to an icy chill she knew would never diminish if Lars stopped loving her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered. Knowing she’d asked for this kind of desperate coldness didn’t stop the dismay she felt might never leave her.
Tears formed in her eyes and he swore softly.
“Come here, my love. I know what you want. There’s no need for both of us to suffer.”
He went quickly to the door and locked it and then turned to her and took her hand.
“Remember when I first made love to you in a chair? We’ll adapt that a bit, so you can rest better tonight.”
He sat down in the largest chair in the room and pulled her onto his lap. Her look of anticipation made the corners of his mouth lift at a time he was surprised he could even think of smiling. He laid her back over one arm and used the other hand to caress her in every way he knew. Unbuttoning her blouse, he kissed each nipple and laved them with his tongue. Delicately biting the stiff peaks made her scream, but he’d been anticipating that and swallowed as much of the sound as he could.
He was genuinely smiling now. No matter how long she held out, Sophie would be his. There was too much love in her for anything else. Feeling under her skirt, he quickly found the swollen spot he wanted and began to circle her clit with a knowing motion that made her thrash in his arms, gasping and clutching at his shoulders.
She’d been starved for physical release and he didn’t have long to wait. When she started to shake he kissed her deeply again, effectively throttling her incipient shout. He held her with gentle strength, kissing her hair and any spot he could reach on her face. He knew the moment she recovered enough from her thrashing orgasm to reach up and grab his head and pull it down to hers.
“Please, Lars. That was wonderful. But please take me up to bed now. Let me pleasure you anyway I can.”
He hesitated a moment. His cock was pushing against his trousers so hard he hoped the seams didn’t split. He’d doubtless spurt all over the place if he taught her how to use her hands as he craved. But he didn’t want to set a pattern of letting her off the hook by a temporary relief. Nor did he have any illusions he could be in bed with her without plunging into her beautiful body.