As Luck Would Have It (17 page)

“Splendid.”

Alex practically snapped that last word. His irritation with Sophie’s admirers was growing by leaps and bounds. He wasn’t a jealous man by nature; possessive, yes, but not jealous. If asked what the difference was a month ago, Alex likely wouldn’t have been able to answer with any degree of eloquence. That had changed, however, the moment Sophie had teased him about meeting someone else in the Pattons’ garden. And she had been teasing, he decided firmly. Not just because Sophie was not the type of girl to make a midnight assignation at a stranger’s ball, but because the alternative— that she was
exactly
that kind of girl—was too disturbing to consider.

And that was the difference between feeling possessive and feeling jealous. Fear.

Fear that she might be playing him for a fool. Fear that she would seek the arms of someone unworthy of her. Fear that she might find him lacking. Fear and all the uncomfortable side effects that came with it—anger, suspicion, insecurity.

Alex focused on the anger. He waited until he caught the eye of one unfortunate young man in Sophie’s entourage, then gave one very menacing, very ducal shake of his head and began to move in the group’s direction.

As he anticipated, the first young man whispered to the not-so-young man next to him and then left. The not-so-young man repeated the procedure with the positively elderly man at his side. By the time Alex crossed the room, only three dawdlers remained. Either they were very brave or very stupid. Alex managed to dispatch them in quick order with a glare, a scowl, and for one stupidly brave lieutenant, an actual growl.

Alex watched him flee with no small amount of satisfaction before turning his attention to Sophie. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand just what in hell she meant by wearing that dress. But upon further consideration, he felt it might be best to ease into that line of questioning. Sophie already looked a little put out with him. And he was interviewing for the role of husband, not chaperone. Speaking of which…

“Where is your Mrs. Summers?” he demanded, his voice sounding harsher than he intended.

She scowled at him. No sickly sweet smiles for him, he noticed. Alex wasn’t sure if he was pleased by that or not.

“Why did you do that?” she snapped crossly, ignoring his question.

“Do what?”

“Charge over here and chase off my new friends like some great snarling—”

“Orangutan?” he offered.

“Bear,” she concluded.

“What a menagerie you seem to think me.”

“It’s not my fault you behave like an animal every time I see you.”

Alex stifled a groan. He’d like to be able to behave like an animal every time he saw her. He caught sight of a young man who looked to be headed in Sophie’s direction, and glowered.

The youth veered off toward the refreshment table.

“Stop
doing
that,” Sophie hissed.

“I wouldn’t have to if your chaperone was where she was supposed to be,” he snapped, growing irritated.

“Mrs. Summers is with all the other chaperones, if you’re so desperate to find her. Their chaperoning duties being somewhat diminished as their charges are all in clear view of half the
ton.
Besides,” she caught sight of the elderly Lord Buckland and gave him an encouraging little smile and wave before continuing, “I’m not doing anything that requires censorship.”

Alex followed her line of vision.

“That’s it.” Taking her by the elbow, he half escorted, half dragged her to the terrace doors.

Sophie resisted only briefly before apparently deciding it wasn’t worth the attention it would draw. She smiled pleasantly at the people they passed, but Alex heard her mumble something about chaperones not being forced upon the right people.

Finally they reached the relative privacy of the stone terrace. She dropped her smile at once.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed angrily.

“I could ask the same of you,” Alex bit off. “This isn’t like you, Sophie.”

She jerked her arm from his grasp and took a step back. “How would you know? You’ve known me for less than a month. That hardly makes you a qualified judge of my character.”

There was simply no rational argument against that observation. Alex felt in his gut that he did know Sophie, that he understood her—and he made it a point to always trust his gut. But somehow the phrase,
I just know
, no matter how sincerely spoken, seemed unreasonably juvenile. He chose to ignore her words instead. It seemed the next best thing to logic.

“Why are you encouraging those men?” he demanded.

Sophie lifted her eyes heavenward and blew out a long breath. “Because it was enjoyable, Alex,” she said as if explaining something to a small child, one who had long, long ago exhausted her patience. “Because it was fun. I was having fun. And now,” she said pointedly, “I am not.”

Alex forced himself to relax, reminding himself again that he was trying to woo this girl.

“We can fix that easily enough, I imagine.” He leaned back against the side of the house and crossed his arms. “What would you like to do?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What would you like to do?” he repeated. “You expressed a desire to have fun. I am at your disposal. We can dance, if you like.”

“My card is full.”

“I could fetch you some champagne.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“We could sneak into the garden.”

“Nor am I stupid.”

“That last bit is what I would like to do. In case you were interested.”

“I wasn’t.”

“So make a suggestion, Sophie. Help me along here.”

“What I would like,” she said, “is to return to my friends.”

“Not an option.”

“Perhaps you’re not clear on the concept of being disposable.”

“You’ll have more fun with me.”

She gaped at him in astonishment. “Do you
realize
how pompous that sounds?” she asked, sounding more amazed than off ended.

He merely shrugged. “I’ve only the vaguest of notions, actually. It’s part of being a duke.”

“You are really quite unbelievable.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t intended as a compliment.”

“A small oversight on your part, I’m sure.”

She looked at him curiously. “Do you know, there’s a very good chance if your head grows any bigger, there won’t be enough room for both of us on the terrace.” As the terrace extended the entire length of the house, this was saying something. “I’m a little frightened for you.”

“I’m touched. Does this mean you’ve decided to remain out here with me?”

She shot him a scathing glance and walked over to lean against the far railing. “I believe
you
decided I’d be staying.”

“Fortunately, that amounts to the same thing.”

“
I’m
deciding how best to go about detaching your enormous head from your body.”

Alex smiled and followed her to the rail. “You may try if you like, but by your own account it’s too big for you to get your hands around. You’d never be able to get a proper grip.”

She struggled to hide a smile. “How bloodthirsty you must think me—”

“Well, if your choice of entertainment is decapitation—”

“—ripping your head off with my bare hands,” she continued.

“—I think the description is justified,” he finished.

“—and Lord Heransly right inside with a perfectly good saber.”

“Sophie.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind my borrowing it for a few minutes. He was most attentive before you scared him off. Perhaps I’ll just pop back inside and see if I can find him.”

Alex’s amusement had faded, then faded further, then disappeared all together.

“You’re not to have anything to do with Heransly.”

“And why is that?” she murmured thoughtfully.

“Because I forbid it.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, tilting her head assessingly to one side. “Perhaps the swelling process is a delayed one….”

Alex took her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his
eyes. “Listen to me, Sophie. This is not a game. Lord Heransly is not a man to be trifled with. You may have your fun with your new admirers.” He nearly choked on the lie. “But keep clear of Heransly. He’s a bounder, a rake, and—”

“So are you,” she said breathlessly.

“And he’s a personal friend of your cousin.”

She blinked at that, a shadow fell over her face for a split second before she righted her features into a mask of nonchalance. She reached up and pushed his hand away.

“Why should that matter?” she asked with assumed indifference. “You’re a friend of his as well.”

“I’m an acquaintance. And you tell me why it should matter. What happened between you and Loudor?”

“Surely you’ve heard. It’s nothing remarkable. He’s lived alone for years now and wasn’t comfortable with all the commotion caused by two women.” She said the words calmly, but failed to meet his gaze.

“One could argue that as your nearest male relative, his comfort should not have taken priority over your safety.”

“Oh, Mrs. Summers and I are perfectly safe. We’ve two dozen servants at least, some of them quite burly.”

She
was
safer, Alex thought, with Loudor out of the house, but there was more to it all than a man desiring his space.

“Sophie,” he said quietly. “Sophie, look at me.”

She looked up a little reluctantly. Alex knew she was hiding something. She seemed nervous, maybe even a little afraid. He wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her lips, her ear, her neck, until the little furrows in her brow eased away. But most of all, he wanted her to trust him.

He reached up and gently grasped a lock of hair that had been strategically left loose to curl seductively down the side of her face. He rubbed the strands between his thumb and forefinger, marveling in the softness, before tucking it behind her ear as if to keep it safe. He pulled his hand back slowly and caressed her cheek and jaw with his thumb.

“I want you to know you can come to me for anything,
Sophie,” he whispered. “Anything at all. There is nothing I would deny you.”

“I…”

“Nothing I would not do for you.”

Bewildered, it was Sophie’s first instinct to say something coy, something sarcastic. Something that would shore up the wall she had spent the last week building to protect herself against the charming Alex. A wall that had been shaky at best, and now that she stood next to him, felt the heat of his caress, the warmth of his words, crumbled completely.

She had been angry with him for chasing off her suitors tonight, but she had been angrier at herself. She’d been so happy to see him, so relieved to be rid of the company of men who valued a well-practiced giggle over a well-read mind. The charade had grown increasingly depressing with each passing minute. She hated pretending to be something she was not, hated catering to the whims of men she couldn’t respect, hated the knowledge that by binding herself to one of them in marriage, she would be giving up the chance of love forever. It was likely she would never know the joys of mutual respect, affection, and desire with her husband.

But perhaps she could know them to night.

“Walk with me,” she whispered.

It was a terrible idea. A dangerous idea. She had a husband to find and Whitefield to save. She needed to make her way into Lord Forent’s study, find proof of treason. But she couldn’t bring herself to see to those tasks just now.

What ever it took, she would secure her family’s survival. She’d traveled the world, seen more places in a decade than most people would see in their lives. Only one place was home. Only one held memories of a mother and sister she’d adored and lost.

She would give her future to Whitefield. This moment, this small sliver of to night, would be hers.

Alex took a cursory glance across the interior of the ballroom to make sure they wouldn’t be seen. Then he was leading
her quickly down the stone steps and into a maze of well-lit paths past rosebushes, and fountains, and hedges, and more rosebushes, until she was completely lost.

Alex brought her to a small gazebo, pulled her behind one vine-covered wall and then into his arms.

For a moment, he simply rested his forehead against hers and held on. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, as holding Sophie. In the past, holding a woman was merely one of the steps to lovemaking, a sensual act that added pleasure to the occasion.

It was different with Sophie. Her soft form molded against his was much more than a formality to seduction, much more than one step in a sequence of steps needed to reach that ultimate goal. Having Sophie Everton in his arms was an end in itself.

He could feel her every curve, every angle through the fabric of their clothes. He could hear her heart pounding, feel her breath against his neck. He felt the way she relaxed against him and it sent a surge of pride and possessiveness through him.

She was his.

And suddenly it wasn’t enough just to hold her. He needed to taste her, to mark her as his own. To leave no question of to whom she belonged.

His lips danced over hers lightly until he felt her yield. Then he slanted his mouth over hers hungrily, teasing her jaw open with his thumb until her lips parted enough to allow his tongue to slip between them. She gasped into his mouth at the new intrusion and his muscles tightened in response.

“So good,” he groaned, leaving her mouth to taste her ear, then the side of her neck. He lingered in the tender spot where the base of her neck met her smooth shoulders.

She gasped again and Alex knew that if one of them did not call this to a halt soon, it would go too far. As a gentleman, he should do it. He should set her away from him.

His arms tightened around her instinctively at the thought. A few more minutes he decided, just a few more minutes.

He returned his attention to her mouth, delighting in the little sounds she made, the tentative movements of her tongue against his, the shy exploration of her hands against his back.

Without conscious thought, one hand stole up from her waist to settle lightly against her beautifully displayed breast. Perhaps her new dress had benefits after all. He felt her tense and he expected her to pull away. When she leaned against his hand instead, he knew he had to end it now or it would be too late.