My Seductive Innocent (44 page)

He combed back his disheveled hair with his fingers and then spared a glance for the man he’d just almost pummeled to death.

“You’re alive!” Sophia exclaimed in a trembling voice that, if he were a fool, which he was not, he’d almost believe sounded happy.

He didn’t acknowledge her comment or her but kept his gaze trained on the man who had been groping
his
wife’s breasts. “I’m afraid, Lord...?”

“Mr. Frazier,” the man offered.

“Ah, but of course. I’m afraid, Mr. Frazier, that I’ve returned from the dead, and though I have absolutely no desire to ever touch my wife again, I must admit I also have no desire to let you or any other man do it for me. And I find that I’ll be happy to kill you or anyone who dares to try. Are we clear?”

Mr. Frazer obviously had large bollocks because he stared hard at Nathan for a long moment, as if he would dare protest, but then he slowly nodded. “Aye, we er clear.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you out.” He turned without sparing Sophia a backward glance and then saw the Scot out in stony silence. His staff, some old and some new, were lined up in their nightclothes to bid him welcome. He greeted each of them with a quick nod, and then he strode to what had been his study but now had decidedly feminine touches. But the sidebar was still there.

Perhaps that was left for Sophia’s lovers
, his mind taunted.

He poured three fingers of brandy and drank it in one gulp. Then he drank two more glasses before walking to the sofa and falling backward onto it. The soft cushions felt odd and foreign. He allowed himself to see her in his mind as she was now, and his heart swelled with pride at the beautiful creature she had become. He grimaced at his own reaction.

Damn her.
She didn’t deserve his admiration, and he needed to remember that.

He refused to contemplate seeing her again tonight. First, he needed to rid her from his soul. With the precision of a physician lancing a wound, he spent the rest of the night recalling every detail of seeing her with another man’s hands on her breasts. Love was for the foolish and the weak. How the hell had he allowed himself to forget that?

Hatred and fury overwhelmed all other emotion. From here on out, it would be as if Sophia, the Duchess of Scarsdale, meant nothing to him. She did not exist. Except, goddamn it, she did.

But he had a plan for that particular problem.

F
or hours after Nathan had left her bedchamber, Sophia sat on the floor afraid to move for fear he would come back and do God only knew what. And then, when dawn broke and he had not come back, anger surged through her so fiercely she had to bury her head under a mound of pillows and bellow her rage. Then astonishment set in.

Nathan was alive!
She could picture, in excruciating detail, how he had looked when he’d barged into her bedchamber. Tanned skin, hair longer than she had remembered, and a close shave that highlighted his taut jaw. He was more ruggedly virile now than ever. The dark, tight-fitting breeches had barely seemed able to contain his muscled thighs, and the crisp white shirt he had worn open casually at the collar without a cravat had kindled every vivid memory of her hands on his skin.

Her body burned with the memory of touching him, and she hated herself for still being attracted to him. And he...
he
had stood here on his return and humiliated her, yet again, by telling her almost-lover that he had no desire to ever touch her. Could it be that he still found her lacking? She forced the doubt from her mind. That could not be it! Why would he fly into such a rage over finding her with another man if he didn’t even want her for himself?

She stilled, all the breath leaving her. Had he really been kidnapped or had he simply left her? No. She shook her head at the foolish thought. He had been kidnapped. Sir Richard had investigated it, and Nathan’s employee, along with others who had no ties to him, had confirmed it. She rubbed at her temples. Why had he been furious if he had never truly wanted her?

Because, silly fool,
her inner voice taunted,
he does not share what is his even if he does not want it. He is like a spoiled, greedy child in a man’s body.

Well, he was a child who was about to get a lesson. If he was not going to have the courtesy to come speak with her, she would go to him and demand to be heard. And she was certain he would be thrilled to hear that she wanted a divorce. She’d not stay married to a man who thought her pathetic and could not stay true.

Without bothering to ring for Mary Margaret, Sophia dressed herself in one of the most alluring day gowns she owned. It had a daring neckline, especially for the day, and its blue color matched her eyes. She shouldn’t care if he found her attractive now or not, but her pride wanted him to regret losing her. She spent extra time brushing her long hair and allowed it to hang over her shoulders in loose waves. When she decided she looked as seductive as she possibly could, she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and made her way downstairs, determined to see him.

It didn’t take long to ascertain that he was in his study, because she could hear male voices coming from within. She considered barging in, but after his display of temper last night, she hated to admit it, but she was afraid to anger him. So, she sat in one of the chairs outside the door. And then, when she recognized Aversley’s voice coming from inside the study with Nathan, curiosity got the better of her, and she crept closer to the door and pressed her ear to it.

“The galleys you say?” Aversley asked.

“Yes. Once I was fished from the water after Ravensdale’s ship sank, I was put on board the slaver and chained to my spot in the galleys, same as all the other slaves.” Her ears drank in the deep voice she had committed to memory, then struggled to forget.
He was alive.
It was so very hard to believe, yet it was true. He was alive, yet nothing would ever be the same. The hope she had once had for love was still gone.

She trembled as he spoke again. “The only way to ever stand up was to volunteer to fight.”

“My God, Scarsdale. Don’t harbor regret over that. You did what you had to do to survive. If that had happened to me, I would have done the same damn thing.”

What had he done? What had happened to him? He’d been on a slave ship? At least she knew for certain he hadn’t abandoned her. She fisted her hands at the unwanted thought. It did not matter! She’d not allow it to matter.

“Have you told Sophia what you just told me?”

She exhaled with annoyance when she realized she was holding her breath waiting to hear what he would say.

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Scarsdale―”

“No.” The word resounded with force and finality. “She means nothing to me; therefore I feel no need to share what I went through with her.”

Sophia’s heart wrenched at his confirmation of how he truly felt about her, which infuriated her. She had to control her emotions when it came to him.

“Scarsdale, she loves you.”

A loud
clunk
, as if glass had been slammed against wood, made her jerk.

“Women don’t love. They beguile, seduce, and destroy if a man is foolish enough to allow them to. I’m no fool. And that is the last time I will ever discuss that woman with you or anyone else, so tell Amelia not to bother trying.”

That woman!
She was
that
woman! She couldn’t take it any longer. She’s spent over a year mourning him, loving him, missing him, only to be devastated by him. And now he was here and he was alive, and all the hurt she felt that he’d stolen her hope and crushed her heart erupted. Fear and reason fled. She flung open the door and marched into his office. Her heart slammed painfully as she took in her husband, here and alive and so very, very cruel and cold.

She would not play the foolish woman ever again. She turned her narrowed gaze on her husband, and her breath hitched. He was dressed casually in another open-collared shirt and leather breeches. A longing to touch him tried to well within her, but she shoved it down.

She hated him! And she especially hated the way heat pooled in her belly at the blasted sight of him. Striding to his desk, where he sat leaning negligently back in a chair, she slapped her palms down and loomed over him, irate when his manly smell, the one she’d dreamed about so many lonely nights, filled her nose and her heart fluttered. She willed her heart to still.

“
You
will not have any need to discuss me with anyone ever again, you foul beast! Believe me, I want away from you just as much as you want away from me. That’s why I’m quite certain you will be pleased to hear that I want a divorce.”

I
t took Nathan a moment to get over the shock that Sophia had barged into his study and demanded a divorce, and then it took another second to get his lust under control. Whether he liked his wife or not, he wanted her. That was abundantly clear from his hard cock and heated blood. All he could think about was peeling her blue gown off and exploring the new lushness of her body.

Pretending she did not exist had been a rash decision. There was no reason he should not enjoy his beautiful, heartless wife’s body. In fact, there was every reason he should. He still needed an heir, she was exquisite, and he was in no danger of losing his heart to her a second time. He drew his gaze over her round hips and tiny waist, pausing when he got to her delectable breasts. After a blush covered her chest, he suppressed a cynical chuckle that she should act so uncomfortable being desired. He inched his way to her face and met her fiery gaze.

Without blinking, he leaned forward. “No.”

Her brow furrowed.
“No?”

He raised his eyebrows in what he knew to be a mocking gesture. “Is my pronunciation too proper for you?”

Her face turned a deep crimson, and a momentary pang of regret for his nasty referral to where she had come from seized him until the image of her lying on her bed with her hair fanned out and Frazier’s hands on her breasts filled his head. Nathan curled his hands into fists under his desk. He should have damn well killed that man.

She stood, looking every inch the haughty, heartbreaking duchess. “But you don’t even like me! Whyever would you want to stay married to me?”

Aversley bounded out of his chair and almost tripped over it as he beat a path to the door. “Scarsdale, if you don’t call on me tomorrow, I will be calling on you to check on Sophia.”

Nathan drew his lips back in a menacing smile, more for Sophia’s sake than anything. Aversley knew Nathan wouldn’t harm a hair on Sophia’s head. Didn’t he? After all, his friend didn’t even know that Nathan had found Sophia with another man last night, so why the devil would he be concerned about her welfare? “I will call on you on my way to London.”

Aversley nodded, and after sketching a quick bow to a gaping Sophia, he left. As the door clicked closed, Nathan moved from behind his desk and stalked toward her. He’d dreamed of touching her every night for the last fourteen months. His fingertips burned with the need to trace them over her skin and plant himself deep within her body. He refused to allow any other emotion, but that one―
pure, unadulterated lust
―to enter his mind.

As he stepped toward her, her eyes rounded, and she stepped sideways away from the desk and then back. “I want a divorce.”

“Never,” he replied, advancing toward her again.

It was almost amusing the way she took another step back, except the thought that this was not at all how he had dreamed of being reunited with her suddenly broke through his haze of anger. He slammed another mental wall up and concentrated on the way her chest rose with each breath. He could swear her rosy nipples were near the edge of the material.

“I don’t understand!” Her voice pitched high and desperate. “You pity me.”

“I
did
pity you.” He took a large step toward her, and she retreated farther until her back smacked against the wall. Her eyes widened, and she pressed her hands against the wall, so that her creamy skin struck a contrast against the dark wallpaper.