A Taste of Paradise (34 page)

He touched her cheek and whispered her name. She didn't stir. What was wrong with her? What had changed Sophia into this pallid imitation of his vivacious wife? She was sleeping so soundly he didn't have the heart to wake her. He tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind him. As he started down the stairs, he heard voices in the foyer. They belonged to Dunning and another that he recognized immediately.

Chris continued down the stairs, wondering what Amanda Dartmore was doing here.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he demanded, “Why are you here, Amanda?”

Amanda squealed in delight and threw herself into Chris's arms. He tried to push her away, but she clung to him. “Christian! I was with Aunt Agatha when Uncle Chester arrived. He said he'd arrived aboard the
Intrepid
, and that you were in London, too. I came as soon as I could get away.”

Aware that Dunning was staring at them, Chris dismissed the butler and peeled Amanda off of him. “This won't do at all, Amanda. I have a wife, in case you've forgotten.”

“Oh, pooh, why should that bother you? Your marriage was no love match, so why should we deny ourselves? Remember how good we were together?”

“That was a long time ago.”

Amanda threw herself at him, pressing her voluptuous body against his. “Not that long ago. This is London, not Kingston. Infidelity is expected among the
ton
.”

“I'm not
ton
, if you recall. I'm not welcome in Society.”

“Oh, pooh! That was then, this is now. Scandals come and go; few people remember what happened seven months ago, let alone seven years.”

“It's over between us, Amanda; I thought I made that clear in Jamaica. Admit it and let us get on with our lives. You've taken lovers during my long absences—why this obsession with me now?”

She licked her lips and gazed up at him. “You're the best lover I've ever had, Chris. I couldn't wait for Dartmore to die. When he did, I traveled to Jamaica to tell you, and found you married. I had hoped we would wed and take up where we left off in London.”

Stunned, Chris stared at her. “What ever gave you the idea we would wed if you were free? I thought we both understood that our relationship was based on pleasure, that commitment was neither wanted nor expected.”

“Speak for yourself, Chris,” Amanda huffed.

Before Chris knew what she intended, she grasped his head and pulled it down for a kiss. Her arms closed like vises around his neck, and her mouth clung to his lips with stubborn determination.

Chris heard a choking sound behind him and broke Amanda's strangle-like hold on him.

“Don't let me interrupt your reunion,” Sophia said from the top of the stairs. “Have you tired of my stepbrother already, Amanda?”

Chris groaned. “Sophia, this isn't what it looks like.”

Sophia started down the stairs but stopped before she reached the bottom. “What am I supposed to think when I find the husband I haven't seen for months kissing another woman in my foyer?”

“Chris and I are very old, very dear friends, I thought you understood that,” Amanda sniffed.

“So I did. When did you dump Rayford?”

Amanda shrugged. “Ray was becoming annoying. His creditors began showing up at my door, threatening to throw him in debtor's prison if he didn't pay them. Besides,” she added, “as amusing as he was, he expected me to provide the blunt to keep him solvent. I no longer wanted him around.”

“How did you know Chris was in London when even I wasn't aware of the fact?”

“Sophia,” Chris said, “I can explain.”

Contempt colored Sophia's words. “An explanation isn't necessary. I have two good eyes in my head.”

Chris groaned in frustration. “Please leave, Amanda.”

“When can I expect you to call on me?” Amanda asked, smiling up at him.

“Never.”

“Really, Chris, you don't have to be rude.”

“It's the only way I can make you understand.”

“Well!” she sputtered, gathering her skirts about her.

Chris held the door open, then slammed it behind her after she swished out.

Sophia felt her heart shatter as she watched Amanda leave. She had awakened earlier to the sound of voices echoing up from the foyer. Curious, she had risen from bed, washed her face, combed her hair and left her room. Once in the hallway, she had recognized Chris's voice. He had returned from Jamaica! Apprehension mixed with happiness had pulsed through her as she reached the top of the open staircase and gazed down into the foyer. But Chris wasn't alone. Amanda Dartmore was in his arms.

Anger had surged through her. When she saw them kiss, any hope Sophia harbored for a happy future with Chris evaporated. What she felt now was disappointment and hurt.

Chris started up the stairs. “Sophia, are you all right? You look so pale.”

Sophia bristled. “How am I supposed to look when I find my husband kissing another woman?”

“If you'd looked closely, you would have seen that I wasn't participating in the kiss. Amanda was the last person I expected to see today.”

“Today? What about tomorrow or the day after that?”

“This is ridiculous, Sophia. Why would I want to see Amanda at all? I made it abundantly clear in Jamaica that I wasn't interested in her.”

“Obviously not clear enough.”

She turned and started back up the stairs. Near the top, her foot tangled in her skirts, she tottered for a moment and then started to fall backward. She grasped frantically for the banister and found nothing but air. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the worst, folding her arms over her stomach to protect her babe. Then suddenly she was floating in air, cradled in Chris's strong arms.

She began trembling, too shaken to speak.

“I was right behind you, Sophia. I wouldn't have let you fall.”

He carried her to her room and lowered her to her feet. She looked around, a puzzled expression on her face. “You carried me straight to my room. How did you know?”

“I was up here earlier. You were sleeping so soundly I didn't want to awaken you. Then Amanda arrived.”

Sophia stiffened. She didn't want to be reminded of how badly it had hurt to see Chris kissing Amanda. “Forgive me for interrupting your passionate reunion.”

“It wasn't like that, Sophia. I came straight here from Justin's house. I had no idea Amanda was with Lady Agatha when Lord Chester arrived home. He sailed with me aboard the
Intrepid
. Amanda took it upon herself to come here. How did she know where you lived?”

“From Rayford, I suspect.”

“Has he been bothering you?”

“Not really. Amanda has been keeping him far too busy.”

Sophia put some distance between them. Chris was too attractive, too vitally alive for her peace of mind. On one hand she wanted to throw herself into his arms and on the other she wanted to flay him with the sharp edge of her tongue. The man was impossible. Impossibly handsome, impossibly arrogant, impossibly tempting. She couldn't bear any more hurt.

Chris reached for her. “This isn't the kind of home-coming I anticipated, Sophia. I hoped you'd be glad to see me.”

She slipped out of his reach. “You sent me away, remember?”

“For your own safety.”

“You should have waited to see if danger actually existed before getting rid of me.”

He stalked her until she had nowhere to go to escape him. “The danger was very real. Fortunately, nothing came of it. I came to London to fetch you and Casper as soon as the
Intrepid
returned to Kingston Bay to take on new cargo. I thought we would remain in London until after the Christmas holiday. I want to give the crew several weeks' shore leave. They need to spend time with their families, and I promised Grace I'd stick around for little Teddy's christening and spend the holidays with them.”

“Will you stay with Justin or find rooms of your own?”

Chris sent her a puzzled look. “I intend to stay right here with my wife. What makes you think I'd want it any other way?”

“Lady Amanda. Won't a wife hinder your . . . affair?”

He reached for her again and this time he caught her. “Dammit, Sophia, I have no interest in Amanda.”

“You could have fooled me.” She searched his face. “Have you forgiven yourself for Desmond's death? Do you still hold me responsible for the duel?”

“Why bring that up now?” He pulled her against him. “We haven't seen one another in months.” His next words rumbled from his chest in a husky whisper. “I don't want to argue. I want to take you to bed and love you.”

Sophia wanted that, too, even though she knew his need was driven by lust, the only emotion he was capable of. But before she could voice her reservations, he grasped her head between his hands and raised it for his kiss. As always, his kiss was pure magic, capable of making her forget her resolve, her name, her very reason.

She needed time to pull her ragged thoughts together. She broke off the kiss and looked into his angular face, burnished a deep gold by the Jamaican sun. His eyes, a startling blue, searched hers. Ignoring her reservations, she raised her hands to his chest.

Chris grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Unable to resist the magic of his kisses, Sophia slid her arms upward and stepped closer, locking her hands at his nape. She pressed herself against him and lifted her lips for another kiss.

Their lips met and fused. Hungrily. She felt his arms encircle her waist, close viselike about her as his mouth settled over hers. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers.

Startled by her easy acceptance following her angry words, Chris shackled the demons still plaguing him after seven years and concentrated on his delectable wife. It had been too long since he had made love to Sophia. He molded her to him, urging her hips nearer, cupping the firm globes of her bottom and drawing her forcefully into the V of his braced thighs.

He eased back, aware of her hands on his chest, burning him, branding him, her fingers kneading. He was desperate to rid them of their clothing. Brushing her hands aside, he unknotted his cravat, then dragged the long strip free.

Dear God, if he wasn't inside her soon he'd go mad
.

Hauling his shirttails free of his trousers, he pulled the constricting garment over his head without bothering with the buttons and tossed it aside. Then he spun her around and undid the laces on the back of her gown. Grasping the sleeves, he shoved the gown past her hips and lifted her out of it, kicking it away with his foot. Her shift followed. He pulled her into his arms, grateful that she wore neither corset nor drawers.

“I've dreamed of having you naked in my arms again.”

“Are you sure it was me you dreamt about?”

Chris muttered a curse. “Don't spoil it, sweetheart. Forget the past and let me love you.”

His hand slipped between them, cupping her breast. He weighed it in his hand and frowned. “My memory must be failing me. You're larger than I recall.” Then he smiled. “I like it.”

“Only because you imagine I'm someone else.”

“I know precisely who you are. You're my wife, and I love making love to you.”

He proceeded to prove his words as he bent his head and suckled her nipple.

Sophia caught her breath as he stroked and kneaded one breast while teasing the other with his tongue and teeth. She moaned out a protest when he released both breasts, dropped to one knee and clasped her waist.

“I need to taste you,” he whispered, planting a kiss in the valley between her breasts before moving lower, over the slight bulge of her belly to the V between her legs.

Her legs started to buckle; Chris's strong arms about her were all that supported her. She clutched his head as his bold, hungry mouth rooted for the slick folds between her thighs. His thick hair flowed over her hands in a silken mass of brown; she couldn't resist stroking it.

His muffled voice sent tremors down her body. “You smell like Paradise and taste like honey. I've missed you.”

Sophia did not reply. She had already offered Chris her love and had been rejected. Admitting how much she had missed him would serve no purpose.

Her silence didn't seem to bother him. Spreading her legs, he held the petals of her sex open with his thumbs and laved her with the rough pad of his tongue.

Her legs turned to jelly. She grasped his shoulders.

With effortless grace he scooped her off her feet and into his arms, leaving her weak and wanting. “Chris . . .”

“I know.” He placed her on the bed and followed her down. Then he knelt between her legs, his mouth returning to her succulent flesh.

Sophia felt her passion escalating, hastened by Chris's intimate kiss. When his mouth found the hardening nub between her thighs, she went wild beneath him. She burned; she feared she would turn to cinder. The air in the room seemed heavier, hotter. A groan ripped from her lips. Her breath was coming in fast, desperate pants.

He slid one finger into her burning center, then another, going deeper, pumping them into her warm, silken heat. Sophia cried out, a soft, shaky plea. She was wet. Beyond wet. Her taut sheath sucked at his fingers.

He lifted his head.

She wailed a protest.

“Do you want me, Sophia?”

“Yes, damn you!”

He kissed her. She tasted herself on his lips.

“You want it as much as I do,” he whispered against her lips

“My
body
wants you. It always did.”

Chris shed his trousers and settled over her. His cock was as hard as stone. His senses were filled with the scent of her, the musky scent of sex.

“Tell me again you want me.”

“Why are you tormenting me? I want you—does that make you happy?”

Happy scarcely described how Chris felt, but he was beyond replying. All he could think about was plunging his throbbing sex into her tight sheath and driving them both to completion. Roughly he turned her onto her stomach, raised her hips, pushed her legs wide with his knees and shoved his cock inside her. As he rocked himself back and forth inside her slick, wet warmth, he tasted Paradise. Beneath him, he felt Sophia begin to tremble.