My Seductive Innocent (17 page)

Nathan snapped his jaw, which had fallen open, shut. “Did you want those things to happen?” His voice throbbed.

She nodded. “I suppose I did, which I don’t mind telling you utterly surprised me. You see, you made me think I might be falling in love with you. You rescued me, and my brother, as well. Then you nobly asked me to marry you and I started to think of you like a knight from an old tale. But―I hope this does not hurt your feelings―your kiss didn’t even make my heart speed up much, and if I was really falling in love with you like I had thought I was, then I’m sure my heart would have galloped ahead when your lips met mine.”

“You thought you loved me?” His heart was beating a heavy, annoying rhythm.

She pressed her lips together. “I hadn’t meant to tell you that. Obviously, I was wrong. So, you see, we really should not marry. You don’t desire me at all, which is plain to see from that kiss. And I suppose I don’t desire you, either. I don’t think that’s a good recipe for a happy marriage. Do you?”

“No. No, I don’t,” he murmured, thinking of and dismissing his parents’ terrible marriage in one swift motion. He took a step closer to her and drew her against him, undeniably aware she had stirred his pride to life with her words.

Sophia apparently had passion in her that she now wanted to explore, and he’d be damned if any other man would show her how to unleash it. He’d much prefer a wife who wanted to bed him over a wife who screeched that his attentions were disgusting, as his mother had done to his father.

He slid his hands to the base of Sophia’s skull, and without hesitation, he claimed her mouth and gave no quarter. Her lips molded to his as he massaged them, and he kneaded his fingers through her short, silky hair. He thought to kiss her enough to show her he could curl her toes, but when she touched his lips with her tongue, he forgot his plan and delved inside her slick, hot mouth to give what she was asking for.

She was sweet, like a fine brandy, and melted into his arms, mewling from her throat. Her heart pounded against his as he trailed his mouth down her neck to the beckoning space between her collarbones. He flicked his tongue over her skin and savored the shiver he elicited from her. He’d wager her toes were curled now and he could stop. But he didn’t.

His blood hummed in his veins as moved lower to the slight swell of her breasts. He cupped them both with his hands and brushed his fingers over the hard buds straining against the material of her gown. His body responded in kind, hardening immediately with need.
Hell.
This had not been part of the plan. Yet, he found he didn’t hate that he wanted her. He didn’t love her—and he never would—so there was no danger in the desire she stirred.

Sliding one hand to her waist and the other to her face to tilt her chin up, he glanced down at her. Slowly, her thick black lashes rose to reveal eyes darkened to a stormy shade of blue. She gazed at him with unmistakable wonder. “Now
that
was the kiss I’ve been dreaming of. That was a kiss that promised endless possibilities.”

He grinned and kissed her nose. “I’m glad I could oblige.” He pressed another kiss on her brow.

“I love you, Nathan,” she said softly.

“You do not love me,” he corrected. “You desire me. There is a difference.”

She nodded, frowned, and then shook her head. “No. I mean, yes.” She grinned at him, and it was a lovely, beautiful thing that startled him. Hope, which she seemed to want to share with him, filled her smile. “I do desire you, but I also love you. I’m quite sure of it now.”

“It will fade,” he said, uncomfortable with the adoring way she was looking at him. Adoration could change to disgust in the time it took to exhale.

“Why would you think that?” she prodded.

He shrugged evasively. “Experience.”

“I’m going to show you my love won’t fade, Nathan. And then you will come to love me, too. Together, we will have something extraordinary. I just felt it in here.” She placed his palm against her pounding heart.

He stilled. How could she be so hopeful given her past? He admired it and pitied it. “Don’t,” he said as he moved his hand and pressed a finger to her lips. He wanted to spare her the pain of hope dashed. “I’m not going to explain my entire life thus far to you, Sophia, but you need to know I have no desire for love.”

“That can’t be so! Everyone wants to have love.”

“I don’t. Can you accept that?”

She nibbled on her lip for a moment before nodding. “For now.”

“Forever,” he corrected.

“
Forever
is such a formidable word. I personally have never cared for it. Frank told me I would be forever under his rule, but I knew differently.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I better go to bed if I’m to be married tomorrow. I need to hang my gown and try to get out some of these wrinkles. There’s much to do. Good night, Nathan.”

Awe for her ability to see the bright side of her situation filled him. He watched as she turned to walk away in her threadbare gown and an idea struck him. He wanted to do something for her, something special. He couldn’t give her exactly what she desired, but he could give her many gifts. “Wait one moment, if you please.”

She swiveled back toward him. “Yes?”

“You cannot get married in that gown.”

She glanced down at her gown, then back to him. “It’s the best one I have.”

“I thought it might be,” he admitted. “If you are to be my duchess, however, you must start dressing the part immediately, and that begins with our wedding.” She could have worn a sack for all he cared; it really made no difference since it would only be the two of them, her brother, his aunt, and the clergyman, except he wanted to do something nice for her. “We’ll postpone the wedding for a few days. That should be long enough to have a gown made for you.”

“Oh, Nathan!” Her face lit up, and before he knew it, she had raced across the room. She threw her arms around him. “I don’t care at all about a new gown, but I’m touched.” She hugged him with unrestrained fierceness, which had been the exact sort of hug he had longed for from his mother. The thought drove him out of her embrace in an instant.

When a wounded look crossed her face, he felt like a cad. “I’m sorry, Sophia. I’m not used to being embraced.”

“Did your parents never hug you?”

“Did yours?” he shot back, employing an avoidance tactic he’d learned long ago when people asked probing questions.

She shook her head. “No. Frank never did, but Harry hugs me so hard I think he may cut off my air. It’s wonderful.”

“What happened to your mother?” he asked, realizing how little he really knew about her.

“My mother died at my childbirth, and Harry’s mother never was officially with Frank. She left Harry on our doorstep right after she birthed him.”

He tried not to react to the news. He hadn’t realized they were half siblings. “And then you took up the job of mothering Harry, and that’s why you stayed at the tavern, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “I was trying to save up enough money so I could bring Harry with me when I left. I could make it on the streets, I’m sure of it. But I don’t think he could.”

It suddenly struck him that she was the most selfless person he had ever met, quite unlike his own mother. He was certain she had not ever wanted him. “Do you want children, Sophia?” he wondered aloud. Though, despite whether she did or not, he needed an heir.

“Oh yes,” she said on a sigh. “I want to lavish all the love on them that was never given to me. I hope we have at least six.”

“Six!” He burst out laughing.

“Too many?” she said, laughing, as well.

He sobered instantly. “I never considered that I would have more than the requisite one to carry on my line.”

“It’s lucky you met me, then. You have the power to make me a lady, and I have the ability to soften your heart.”

With those words, she whispered good night and left the library. He let her go without correcting her erroneous notion that she could ever soften his heart. He’d hardened it long ago in order to survive, and he didn’t have any desire to change that.

S
ophia awoke the next morning, sat up, and got her first good look at her bedchamber. When the uppity butler had shown her to the room last night, it had been lit with candles. She had known instantly that it was magnificent by the enormous, breathtaking bed situated in the middle of the room, but the pervading darkness had made it hard to see everything properly. She glanced behind her and to the sides at the four-poster that encased her. The canopy reached all the way to the ceiling. Long velvet panels of rich gold and deep burgundy hung from golden rods at the top of the bed and billowed elegantly to the floor. A gold-and-burgundy wallpaper covered the walls, and to the right of the bed hung an oil painting of a stunning woman whose dark eyes matched Nathan’s.

The woman had to be Nathan’s mother. In fact, as Sophia looked around the room, she counted three paintings, all of Nathan’s mother. It seemed odd to her that there were none of anyone else, and she made a mental note to ask Nathan―or better yet one of the servants―what the duchess had been like. She had a feeling Nathan would not be forthcoming with information regarding his personal life. Not yet.

Thoughts of Nathan brought last night’s kiss to the forefront of her mind. That kiss had curled her toes, eased her fears, and changed her mind about going through with the marriage. That kiss had held the promise of a wondrous love to come.

From his lips, she had tasted his desire. From his chest, she had felt the thundering of his heart. With her ears, she had listened to his ragged breath, and she had known instantly that underneath his cold exterior he was hiding a man in need of love just as much as she was. She’d glimpsed his kindness and honor already. Now all she had to do was help him see that he did want love. He was afraid, she was sure. That had to be it. If she could show him he had nothing to fear from her, he would let down his guard.

A scratch came at the door, startling her.

“Good morning, miss,” came a soft feminine voice from the hall.

Sophia took a deep breath and bid the woman to enter. A young, pretty blond girl with curves and luxurious hair opened the door and came in the room. Sophia’s jealousy stabbed at her, and she fiddled with her own short hair. She forced her hand away when she realized the woman was staring at her. Sophia didn’t take offense, for the woman had kind eyes and a smile played at the corners of her lips.

She dipped into a quick curtsy. “I’m Mary Margaret, your lady’s maid. I hope it pleases you.” The woman blushed. “I’ve always wanted to be a lady’s maid but thought I’d be stuck in the kitchen the rest of my life, as His Grace didn’t seem likely to take a lady, and I couldn’t fathom leaving his employment as my family’s been with His Grace’s family since I was a baby.”

Sophia mentally tried to rid herself of the fog of sleep that seemed to be making her brain function sluggishly. She could barely keep up with the woman’s rapid speech. Or perhaps it was the glass of wine she’d drank last night. Having never had wine before, she’d been a little tentative to drink it, but when she’d seen the glass on her bedside table she had assumed it was customary to imbibe before bedtime. Why else would it be there? A yearning to fit in to Nathan’s world and make him proud had gripped her, so she had decided to embrace its customs.

She pressed her fingertips to her temples. Embracing its customs had left her head a bit achy and her mouth felt dry, too. She made another mental note to discover if everyone partook before bed or if it would be acceptable to pass.

“Miss Vane? Have I lost you? I’m so sorry. My mother says I prattle on entirely too much!”

Sophia blinked, and Mary Margaret gave her a rather odd look, probably because Sophia had been sitting here like a dope, staring off into nothingness and not answering the woman.

“Do you wish me to try to fix your hair?”

Sophia looked at the woman’s glossy strands once again, and her fingers crept back up to her shorn, rough edges. “My hair used to be my best feature.” The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them and caused a lump to lodge in her throat.

Mary Margaret nodded. “It’s a stunning color. If you’ll let me, I’ll simply soften the edges and style it for you. Were you ill?”

The question confused Sophia for a moment, as her mind was still trapped in that weird fog, but as she got out of bed, it occurred to her that the maid was referring to her hair. Sophia shook her head as she followed Mary Margaret to a dressing table that stole Sophia’s breath. It was made of a dark, gleaming wood and had so many little drawers that it boggled the mind. In the center of the table was a round looking glass.

Mary Margaret smiled at Sophia. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

Sophia nodded.

The lady’s maid—
her
lady’s maid, she reminded herself—bent down and pulled on two tiny brass knobs on either side of the table, and secret doors folded open in an accordion manner. They revealed more drawers and two more cut pieces of looking glass. “This was Her Grace’s.”

Sophia froze, halfway to the green velvet-cushioned chair. “Nathan was married before?”