I
t had been a long, profitable evening, but Sophia couldn’t help worrying as she made
her way up the back stairs of the club, stripping off her long silk gloves as she
went. She kept thinking about Lord Hammond at the park and worrying about where he
might appear next. About what he wanted from her.
She paused at the top of the stairs to peer down over the railings at the shadowed
kitchen below. Everything was quiet now. All the servants had departed after tidying
up the salons, Camille had gone home, and Sophia was alone in the dark stillness.
This was normally the time she liked the best, once the rush of the night had passed
and she was alone with her thoughts. But tonight the silence made her think too much
about things she would rather not, and not only Lord Hammond. Things like the loneliness
that she could keep at bay while she worked, while she lost herself in the cards,
but that came out to plague her at night. She and Jack had never gotten along after
the first passionate rush of their elopement, especially once the drink got to him.
But still she felt as if she wanted someone with whom to
talk, to go over what had happened at the club, to laugh at the patrons’ silly antics,
or to ask advice about what she should do concerning Hammond.
Things like the need to have someone touch her, hold her in the cold darkness.
Sophia shook her head. “You are being ridiculous,” she whispered aloud. Perhaps she
did need to go back to London and its foggy sensibleness, back to the shelter and
limitations of her family. It seemed Paris was making her romantic and broody, two
things she certainly did not want to be. Just as she shouldn’t have been watching
for Dominic St. Claire all evening, and yet she had been.
But for right now she would just put her feet up by her own fireside and have a nice
brandy before she went to bed.
She turned at the small landing on the third floor and opened the door to her sitting
room. The small apartment seemed like a cozy haven after the long evening. The fire
was already burning in the grate, laid out by one of Camille’s maids before she left,
and a tray of bread, cheese, and brandy was left on the small table next to it. The
fire was the only light in the room, its flickering, red-orange glow casting shifting
shadows around the few pieces of furniture and the filmy curtains at the windows.
Sophia leaned back against the door and smiled as she took in this little domestic
scene, the books piled on the table and the cozy rug on the floor. How could she be
lonely when she had this? Her little home, after so long in one hotel after another.
Her sanctuary after fending off men like Lord Hammond for too long. But it didn’t
feel like a sanctuary tonight.
She dropped her gloves onto the nearest chair and
reached up to unfasten her pearl earrings and black ribbon choker. Suddenly there
was sound, a rustle of something like fine wool fabric, the creak of old sofa springs,
and Sophia froze. She suddenly had the paralyzing feeling that she was not really
alone.
Holding her breath, she reached behind her to grasp the door handle. If she could
just get it open and run fast enough…
Then a man sat up on the sofa, and she saw the firelight gleam on pale blond hair.
It was Dominic.
“What are you doing here?” she cried. She let go of the doorknob, but she didn’t feel
any safer. In fact, he was probably the very last man she should be alone with.
He smiled at her, that careless, unrepentant grin of his, as if he was found in a
lady’s private sitting room every day. And perhaps he was. Sophia saw the way women
of all sorts were inexorably drawn to him, bright moths to a fatal flame. Just as
she was drawn to him, against all her better judgment and all her experience. Even
now her heart was pounding so hard she feared he could hear it.
“I was waiting for you, of course,” he said. His tone was light, but Sophia could
hear a thread of pure, unbreakable steel underneath. “Your sofa is quite comfortable.”
“You should not be in here,” Sophia said, feeling foolish as she stated the obvious.
“If you wished to speak to me, you should have made an appointment. There is an office
downstairs we use for club business.”
“I do want to speak to you, but not about office sorts of things,” Dominic said. “I
won’t take up much of your time.”
“You already have.” Sophia hated the tiny quiver in her voice. She stood up straighter
and tilted back her chin.
“What do you want to talk about, then? It’s late and I’m tired.”
He rose from the sofa, a slow, graceful unfolding like that of some powerful jungle
cat. Sophia held her breath as she watched him move toward her, forcing herself not
to run as he leaned his hand against the door near her head.
Sophia studied him warily. The firelight behind him seemed to cast a halo over his
hair, but he looked far from angelic. His cravat was untied, hanging in loose, crumpled
folds, and his shirt had fallen open at the throat to reveal a vee of smooth, bronzed
skin. His hair was tousled, falling over his brow in waves that made Sophia long to
brush them back. To feel their silkiness against her fingers.
She tucked her fists into the heavy folds of her skirt and watched as his smile turned
teasing, as if he guessed what she was thinking. He leaned closer, and Sophia could
smell the lemony crispness of his cologne. He didn’t actually touch her, but it felt
as if the warmth of his body wrapped around her and drew her close. She remembered
her longings of earlier that night, that need to be touched and held in the darkness,
and it rushed back onto her a hundredfold with him so close. She did want him to touch
her, far too much.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she whispered. All sorts of wild fantasies
flashed in her mind, images of him kissing her, touching her, his skin warm against
hers…
Dominic’s smile faded, and his hand curled into a tight fist against the wall. “My
brother.”
“Your—what?” Sophia stuttered. All those heady fantasies fled like a cloud sliding
from the sky. She hadn’t been expecting that.
“My brother James. I am sure you remember him, since he sent you flowers. Or perhaps
you don’t, since you seem to have so many admirers.”
“I—yes, of course I remember. He seems like a charming young man.”
“He is quite infatuated with you,” Dominic said calmly, tonelessly.
Sophia had to laugh. This conversation felt so strange. “Is he indeed? We have only
met once. How impetuous of him.”
She pushed herself away from the door and past him, but he suddenly caught her arm
in his grasp. It wasn’t painful, but she found she couldn’t pull away from him. His
hand was warm and strong on her bare arm, and his touch made her shiver.
She glanced up at him, and his eyes glowed in the flickering shadows as he stared
back at her. All of his usual careless charm was gone, and he looked frighteningly
intense.
“Don’t encourage him, Sophia,” he said in a low, hard voice. “He is much too romantic,
he hasn’t learned how the world works yet.”
“You think I have encouraged him?” she cried. She tried to twist her arm away but
he held on to her. “I have barely even spoken to him.”
“You’ve smiled at him, danced with him.”
She had to laugh. This man, the one she thought about far more than she should, was
here in her home telling her not to
smile
at his eager young cub of a brother? “I smile a great deal. Are you saying I should
refrain from that? That I should go about being terribly stern in order not to encourage
anyone?”
Dominic’s hand suddenly slid from the wall to her shoulder, where her skin was bared
by the black silk of her cap sleeve. His fingertips skimmed over her, the merest,
lightest brush. It awoke something hot and alive inside her.
“I don’t think you realize the terrible power of your smile,” he said roughly. His
hand curled around her waist and drew her closer to the hard length of his body. “It’s
so bright yet so full of mystery, as if you tease us with secrets we will never know.”
“I—I have no secrets,” Sophia whispered. She reached out to grasp his shoulders because
she was sure she was falling. The room was so dark and so warm, and it seemed to be
growing even smaller. Narrowing in and in until there was only her and him. Only his
hand on her waist, her touch on his strong shoulders.
“We both know that’s not true,” Dominic whispered. He leaned closer until his lips
brushed her ear. She felt his warm breath against the sensitive skin of her neck,
and her eyes slid closed. “I don’t want my brother mixed up in them. He’s much too
prone to leaping into trouble when it comes to a pretty woman.”
“I’ve heard you’re not immune to trouble yourself,” Sophia said. She opened her eyes
and found herself staring at the smooth skin of his chest where his shirt fell open.
A tiny, crystalline bead of sweat gleamed at the hollow of his throat. As she watched,
fascinated, it slid down his skin, and she had the most powerful urge to lean forward
and trace it with her tongue, to taste him.
He seemed to sense her fantasy, because his hand tightened at her waist, and she heard
him give a low, hoarse moan. “So you’ve heard gossip about me, have you? Even here
in Paris?”
“Of course. The French are fascinated by beauty, you know. And I remember hearing
about your family before I left London so long ago. The St. Claires are of endless
interest there,” she murmured. She traced her palm lightly over his shoulder and along
the lean line of his back. Under the fine linen of his shirt and the soft wool of
his coat, she could feel how hard his body was and the graceful power of him as he
shifted under her touch.
His lips traced the soft, vulnerable spot just below her ear, and Sophia’s fingers
clutched at a handful of his shirt. “And you listen to the gossip about me?” he said.
“I would have thought you above such things—
Lady
Sophia.”
His use of her title startled her, making a tiny touch of ice pierce the heat of her
desire, but then he kissed her neck again and the cold skittered away. “Gossip is
part of my business,” she said, trying desperately to think clearly again. “I need
to know as much as I can about everyone.”
“Very shrewd of you,” he whispered against her skin. “And what have you learned about
me?”
“How women can’t resist you,” Sophia said. She flattened her hands on his chest and
tried to push him away so she could think again. She could definitely see the truth
of the gossip about him now. What woman could resist his skillful touch?
She could not afford to be another of their number. Not if she wanted to get back
to her family somehow.
“That’s not true.” He drew back and looked down at her, his eyes narrowed. “You seem
to resist me just fine.”
Sophia laughed. Resist him? Oh, no. She wanted to resist him; she knew she should.
She should just shove
him away from her and order him from her home. “Is that why I’m letting you touch
me now, because I can resist you? How absurd.”
Dominic shook his head. He watched her closely, a frown on his sensual lips, as if
she were a play script in some foreign language he couldn’t quite decipher. “You won’t
let me in. I can’t read your thoughts at all.”
Did he want in? Sophia was startled by the thought. No man ever wanted to know her
thoughts. It was enough to them that she was pretty, that she had once had family
connections. That they wanted to sleep with her. It was all anyone ever saw or cared
about, even Jack. She just hadn’t seen that in the heady days of their elopement,
when she had thought he was different.
She was sure Dominic was not different, either. He just wanted her to stay away from
his brother. Perhaps he was attracted to her himself. That was all. But it was so
hard to remember all those difficult lessons when he touched her, looked at her, the
way he did now.
“My thoughts are very boring,” she said.
His hand slid over the curve of her hip and pulled her even closer. Caught off balance,
Sophia went up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hair fell in silken
waves over her hands, and she twined her fingers in them.
“I don’t believe that at all,” he said, and he sounded angry. Rough. “You are much
too fascinating for a man’s sanity.”
And his mouth closed over hers. Sophia closed her eyes and tumbled down and down into
that hot whirlpool of desire with him. He tasted so delicious, of brandy and lemons,
and his lips moved over hers in soft caresses, first
one corner of her mouth then the other before he moaned and pressed closer.
His hands were hard on her hips, and his tongue slid inside her as if he was just
as hungry for the taste of her as she was of him. But Sophia didn’t care anymore.
His rough passion awakened that fire inside her and she felt that wondrous life sweep
through her again. She wanted more of him, more of that feeling.
Her fingers tightened in his hair and he groaned against her mouth. As she twined
her tongue with his, she felt his hands close over her bottom and lift her high against
the wall. Her skirts fell back and she wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him
deeper into the curve of her body.
Over the years, she had come to think the memory of her kiss with him at the Devil’s
Fancy had become more than it really was. A girl’s first real kiss, magnified into
something it really wasn’t. But she saw now that the wild, passionate need had been
real. And now that she was a woman with a woman’s needs, it burned even hotter.
As she lost herself in his kiss, her mind was flooded with wild images. Dominic entwined
with her on her bed, his mouth on her breast, her legs wrapped around him as the sheets
tangled over their bodies. His hand in her hair as he stared down into her eyes and
thrust inside her.
“Sophia,” he whispered against her lips, and the dreams and reality merged. His mouth
traced the line of her jaw, and her head fell back. She felt his hand brush away her
skirts and slide under her thigh, lifting her higher against him. She rubbed against
his body, and the feel of his erection between her thighs, hard and heavy even through
her clothes, sent a shiver through her.