Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (17 page)

“I should not have come here,” she murmured into the expensive fabric of his evening
coat.

At her despondent tone, Jack shuddered and strove for control of himself. “Why not?”

“Because I have no willpower where you are concerned. You touch me and I melt.”

His response was to pull her even closer. “Sophie, love.… Your melting is a very good
thing. You make me want to melt as well.”

His husky voice caressing her name made Sophie’s heartbeat quicken, as did his admission
of weakness for her. Leaning into him, she breathed in Jack’s scent, absorbing the
hard, warm strength of him, silently savoring the contact. She relished being alone
with
him like this—and yet her common sense was slowly returning.

In other circumstances, it would have been wildly romantic … Jack kissing her in this
lovely garden setting, making love to her surrounded by roses and moonlight. And she
hungered to be with him one last time. Yet she couldn’t let it happen here.

“Come to my room tonight,” she implored in a low voice.

Lifting his head sharply, he stared down at her, his eyes flaring with desire.

For an endless moment he held her captive with his dark gaze while Sophie struggled
to resist his spellbinding intimacy. This utterly beguiling man was drawing her ever
deeper into his enchantment. She couldn’t seem to defend herself. He was too seductive,
too persuasive, too tempting.

And that was her greatest fear. Jack was wonderful and more than a little thrilling,
but he was also supremely dangerous, for he was hell-bent on making her forsake her
obligations when she knew she couldn’t give in.

“It is likely,” she said quietly, “that after I speak with the duke tomorrow, you
and I can never be together again. But we can have one final night together … to say
farewell in private.”

When the import of her words sank in, Jack’s expression darkened. The intensity on
his face surprised Sophie, but then, he was a far more complex man than she had ever
imagined.

Remembering the trauma he had suffered as a child, Sophie felt another surge of fierce
compassion for
him. She reached up to touch his face, using her fingertips to softly brush his cheek.

He apparently didn’t want her tenderness, though, judging from the way his jaw clenched.

“This won’t be our last night together,” he declared. Then he lowered his head again
to claim another vehement kiss.

After a moment’s frozen hesitation, Sophie moaned at the devastating heat of his mouth
on hers, the hot wet invasion of his tongue, the passionate hands sweeping her body.
His every touch was exquisite torture, and she knew if she continued this way, she
would surrender to his seduction here and now.…

Summoning her last ounce of strength, she tore her mouth from his and pushed against
his chest, abruptly severing their embrace.

“I am sorry, but I must go.”

Jack watched her as she backed away, his eyes dark and solemn. “Sophie … you cannot
marry him,” he repeated with more urgency.

Her heart twisting in her chest, Sophie forced herself to turn and make for the door.
And she didn’t look back as she left Jack standing there staring after her.

Before she could rejoin the assembly, she had to detour to her bedchamber to repair
her disheveled appearance. Unsteadily Sophie re-pinned her hair, then smoothed her
gown and pressed a damp cloth to her flushed face. However, there was not much she
could do to soften the ravished look of her red, swollen lips.

When finally she felt ready to return to the assembly,
to her dismay, she met her mother in the corridor outside her bedchamber.

“You disappeared for such a long time,” Rebecca murmured, “I grew worried for you.
Are you feeling unwell?”

Not so much unwell as upset. Her usually calm emotions had turned restive and rebellious,
putting her in a fighting mood. “I am fine, Mama. I only needed a momentary respite
from the company.”

“Are you truly fine, my love?” Her mother’s searching gaze was anxious, her tone troubled.
“Are you perhaps having second thoughts about wedding Dunmore?”

“No, not at all,” Sophie lied.

Her mother must have doubted her assurances, however, for after a moment, Rebecca
added in an imploring voice. “I beg you to understand, Sophie. It is not avarice driving
your father. We lost one child, and you are all we have left, so naturally we want
to protect you even more. We only want what is best for you. Marriage to Dunmore will
set you up for life and provide you with security, a home, children. But a marriage
of convenience means you must set aside your personal feelings. It would be gratifying
if you could marry for love. Had your brother lived, that might have been possible.
But not now.”

Guilt washed over Sophie at her mother’s plea, while fresh emotion lumped in her throat.
“I know my duty, Mama. I will accept the duke’s proposal if he asks.”

She had to be strong, Sophie reminded herself as she returned to the assembly with
her mother. The very things she held most dear were at stake … family,
loyalty, love for her parents. They had faced such cruel disappointments in life,
had sacrificed considerably to improve her station and marital prospects, she couldn’t
hurt them further. She would honor their wishes just as she’d promised.

Her desire to marry who she chose couldn’t be allowed to matter. An image of Jack
rose in her mind’s eye … the intense intimacy in his gaze, the tenderness of his touch,
the heart-stopping power of his kisses.

Suddenly Sophie felt a twist of longing so strong, she shook with it. Jack made her
blood sizzle and her heart yearn. But she had to fight the raw, reckless hunger he
kindled in her. And even though their short time together had been a wonderful fantasy,
she had to end their liaison at once or she would never break free of him.

Regrettably, when she entered the drawing room, the duke was the first person she
saw. His expression brightened, as if he’d been waiting anxiously for her return.
When Sophie started to turn away, hoping to avoid him, Dunmore hurried toward her
while calling her name.

“There you are, my dear,” he said in a jovial tone. “I was wondering … er, would you
perhaps have time …?” He cleared his throat and began again more formally. “Pray,
might I have a private word with you, Miss Fortin?”

“Certainly, your grace,” Sophie replied evenly, hiding her apprehension.

She led the way from the noisy drawing room to an empty parlor down the corridor.

Following her inside, Dunmore partially shut the
door and offered her a faint smile. His cheer seemed a trifle forced, however, and
when he tugged at his cravat, she realized he was merely nervous—a suspicion that
was confirmed when he stammered, “I had intended to s-speak to your father t-tomorrow,
but I see no reason to d-delay.”

Perceiving where the duke was headed, Sophie felt a knot coil in her stomach. She
wished with all her heart that she could postpone this unwanted interview, but Dunmore
cleared his throat and began again.

“You must know that I feel a sincere affection for you, Miss Fortin. You see … the
thing is …” The rest of his words came out in a rush. “I had best just spit it out
or I will lose my courage. Will you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife, Miss
Fortin?”

A feeling of panic hit Sophie, and for a moment she remained helplessly mute.

At her silence, the duke hastened to explain. “I feared if I didn’t act soon, some
other younger, more handsome fellow might claim you. I am m-much older than you, I
know … but I will do my utmost to try and make you h-happy, Miss Fortin.”

His stumbling proposal was awkward but sweet, yet Sophie couldn’t manage to form a
reply past her dry throat.

But when the duke’s expression went from eager to worried, she forced her answer between
her lips. “Yes, I will marry you, your grace. I thank you for your kind offer.”

Letting out a deep breath in relief, Dunmore beamed with delight. “Thank heaven. I
feared you might
not … Well, never mind what I thought. You have made me the most fortunate of men.
By your leave … I will go and speak to your father at once.”

Stepping closer, he bowed over her hand and pressed a gallant kiss to her fingers,
then turned and hurried from the parlor.

Sophie stood there unmoving, feeling dismay roil her stomach.

Her distress was a measure of how much she had changed over the span of a mere week.
Less than a fortnight ago she would have eagerly welcomed the duke’s proposal. But
that was before she had met Lord Jack Wilde. Before she had come to know him and begun
to hope for the beguiling possibility of a future with him.

She had made the right decision, of course. Accepting the duke’s offer was the surest
way to prevent herself from acting foolishly with Jack. Yet as she contemplated what
she’d just done, the finality of her situation struck her. She would never have the
kind of love match she secretly dreamed of. In all likelihood her marriage would be
loveless, passionless, even joyless.

She had no future with Jack, though, Sophie tried to tell herself, remembering what
she’d learned about his dark past and the emotional fetters left over from his childhood.
The barriers he’d erected would prevent him from giving her his heart.

And it was best to cut all ties with him cleanly, before she fell in love with him,
even if it hurt like the very devil. For the pain would be much, much greater if she
wound up suffering an unrequited love for Jack when she was irrevocably wed to another
man.

She had no choice, Sophie thought with heart-wrenching regret. Tonight when he came
to her room, she would end their illicit romance once and for all.

Even so, knowing that she would never again be with Jack after tonight, never share
repartee or laughter or passion with him again, left her shaken.

Sophie’s betrothal to the Duke of Dunmore was formally announced before the evening
drew to a close. Her parents were clearly elated, but for Jack, the public declaration
struck another blow to his chest.

Sophie’s own expression was stoic, except for the brief moment when he caught her
gaze. Her eyes held sorrow and profound regret before she purposefully glanced away.

Skye, on the other hand, looked troubled, while Mrs. Pennant seemed jointly vexed
and distressed. As the assembly was disbanding, the elderly lady approached Jack in
order to chide him for his failure.

“You promised to prevent my grand-niece’s misguided engagement,” she accused.

“My efforts are not over,” Jack vowed grimly.

“Oh, no?” the elderly lady replied in a scathing voice. “What can you possibly do
at this late date?”

“I still mean to persuade her to change her mind.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Sophie will never renege now that she has given her
word, nor will her father. And surely you have not forgotten that Oliver wants a duke
for his daughter.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten. But I am not giving up.”

Evidently Mrs. Pennant put no stock in his pledge, for distress overwhelmed vexation
in her expression.
“Sophie is so full of sweetness and life, I fear wedding Dunmore will drain the spirit
out of her. I prayed it would not come to this, but there is no hope.”

Choking back tears, she moved away then, leaving Jack to silently repeat his promise
about not giving up.

He’d vowed he would never be helpless again, and he didn’t intend to stand impotently
by while Sophie wed Dunmore or any other man.

When Jack climbed the trellis to Sophie’s room late that evening, he found the window
open and slipped inside, determined to make her change her mind about her betrothal.
As last night, she was sitting at her dressing table, garbed in her nightclothes,
her rich dark hair curling down her back.

For a moment she didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. Then slowly Sophie glanced
over her shoulder and rose to her feet.

He considered it a favorable sign that she moved across the room, straight into his
arms, and buried her face in his chest.

“I should not have invited you here to my bedchamber.” Her lament was muffled while
guilt edged her tone. “We should not be alone together now that I’m betrothed. This
must be the last time, Jack.”

“No, it mustn’t. You can still reject Dunmore’s proposal.”

She shook her head sadly. “We always knew this time would come.”

“I didn’t know it,” Jack insisted. “I’m not willing to accept your marriage to him.”

She sighed and rubbed her cheek against the fabric of his shirt. “I wish it could
have been you instead. I would far rather wed you than the duke. But you are only
acting out of a desire to protect me.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it? Your affections aren’t engaged.” She drew her head back to look up at him.
“If I believed we could have a love match …” She left the thought unfinished as she
reached up to take his face in her hands. “You don’t love me, Jack, and I doubt you
ever could.”

Her assertion struck him with unexpected force. While Sophie waited expectantly, her
violet eyes searching his face, Jack opened his mouth to reply but then quickly shut
it again.

He was in much deeper with her than he’d realized. In truth, he was a little stunned
by the strength of his feelings for Sophie.

But the question was, could he give her the love she longed for? Irrefutably, he cared
for her a great deal. Why else would he feel so desperate at the thought of her wedding
Dunmore?

But love?

It wasn’t inconceivable. Ordinary people didn’t fall in love in a week, let alone
at first glance, but the Wildes were not ordinary when it came to romance.

The possibility that he might be falling in love jolted Jack and made him feel a different
sort of panic. He’d never wanted to love anyone. Not even someone as warm and caring
and special as Sophie.
Especially
not someone like her, for the risk of pain would be too great.