Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (21 page)

She'd waited seven years to see him with his clothes off, and while he still had his trousers on, Sophia knew the rest of him would be just as dry-mouthed beautiful as the rangy, whipcord perfection bared to her now.

For a moment, all her misgivings about marrying him disappeared, and yet her anxiety seemed to double tenfold. How would that body feel against her own nakedness? What would it be like to feel those muscles bunch and tighten beneath her hands?

But the beauty of Julian's body made Sophia all the more aware of how imperfect her own was. She was short and soft and round and things weren't quite as…pert as they had once been. Would Julian find her lacking, or would he like what he saw?

His opponent swung his left arm, the meaty fist flying at Julian with terrifying speed. It seemed certain that it would connect with Julian's face. At the last second Julian dodged the blow, landing one of his own on the shorter man's midriff. Sophia gasped out loud at the near miss.

She should have kept quiet. Her gasp was just loud enough to grab Julian's attention. Foolishly, he turned his head to glance at her, his expression as surprised as hers must have been. That split-second lapse in his attention was his undoing. The other man's fist came up and connected with his jaw. Julian's head flew back as he stumbled into the side of the ring, catching himself on the rope to keep from falling.

Hands over her face, Sophia cried out in horror. Oh, dear God, Julian was hurt and it was all her fault!

She raced toward the ring. Julian's opponent was already helping him to his feet, apologizing profusely. Julian shook him off.

"It is not your fault, Harper," he replied, pressing a hand to the side of his mouth.

"No," Sophia agreed, standing at the foot of the ring directly below them. She gazed up at Julian, hoping he could see how sorry she was. "It is mine. Forgive me, Julian."

"It is not your fault either." His tone was gruff. "'Tis mine for losing my concentration."

Picking up a small towel, Julian dabbed at the corner of his mouth with it. It came away bloody. Sophia cringed at the sight of it.

"That will be all for today, thank you, Harper."

"Same time next week, my lord?"

"No." Julian's gaze locked briefly— hotly— with Sophia's. "I am to be married next week. I will send for you when I am ready."

The burly Harper nodded. After congratulating Julian on his upcoming marriage, he gathered up his belongings and departed, leaving Sophia alone with her half-naked fiancé.

He didn't bother to put on a shirt as he ducked beneath the ropes and stepped down to the floor in front of her. The heat of him rushed at her, carrying the scent of him with it. Sweat, soap and that beguiling spicy sweetness that was Julian invaded her senses, throwing her equilibrium horribly off balance.

"I am sorry," she said, nodding at the blood-spotted towel in his fist.

He held it to his mouth again and looked at it as he pulled it away. There was hardly any blood this time.

"I should not have lost my concentration." He watched her for a moment, his expression so guarded Sophia couldn't even begin to guess at what he was thinking. "You are early."

Should she make something up or should she just be honest and stop this foolish wondering that had plagued her ever since he'd come to see her at Lady W's.

Honesty won out. Not so much because it was a good way to start earning his trust, but because she couldn't stand herself any longer.

"I wanted to give you a chance to change your mind before we announce our betrothal. You can still walk away from this if you wish."

She held her breath as he stared at her, his face and gaze completely expressionless. Was he trying to find the words to tell her he didn't want her after all? In some ways it would be a relief. In others it would be a devastation.

"Is that what you want?" he asked finally, taking a step toward her. "To walk away?"

Sophia raised a hand between them. Whether it was to touch him or ward him off, she wasn't certain.

"I— " She faltered as he took another step toward her, pressing the hairy warmth of his chest to her palm. She could feel his heart beating beneath her hand, feel the heat of his body on her fingers. His own hand came up and covered hers, holding it against him.

"No," she whispered, painfully, honestly. "I do not want to walk away." She didn't want to look away either. Her gaze remained locked on the strong, red-knuckled hand holding hers, on the golden flesh that made her own seem white and bland.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked, his voice a low, rough purr.

I love it.

The words, unwanted and unbidden, sprang to Sophia's tongue so quickly it was all she could do to keep them from spilling out. It was more truth than she was willing to own at this moment.

Raising her gaze to his, she looked deep into those pale, golden brown eyes for the arrogance she expected to accompany such a question. There was none.

Not trusting her mouth not to humiliate her further, Sophia simply nodded. Yes, she liked it very much.

He took another step toward her. "Enough to wake up next to it for the next forty or so years?"

Forever.
Again she nodded.

Sophia knew he was going to kiss her before he lowered his head. Raising up on her toes, she dropped her gloves to the floor and pressed her other hand against his chest, feeling the hair there spring against her palm. She lifted her face, sighing as his mouth came down on hers with tender yet firm insistence.

He still held her hand. His other arm slid around her waist, holding her tightly as though he feared she might pull away. There was little chance of that happening.

It was just a kiss and yet Sophia's head swam with it. She could think of nothing but the warm, moist feel of his lips, of his tongue sliding against hers— of his heart pounding beneath her palm.

Her own heart battered her ribs as she gave herself up to the wonderful sensations washing over her. This was what a kiss should be. Edmund's kisses had been pleasant, even arousing, but not like this. Her husband had never made her feel as though a keg of gunpowder was about to go off inside her. He had never made her feel as though a thousand butterflies were caged inside her chest. No one but Julian had ever made her feel this way.

She moved closer, pressing as much of herself against him as she could. His body was a solid wall of heat that seeped through her clothes, through her skin right to her very bones. Her mouth clung greedily to his, meeting every caress with a wanton demand for more. Her lips tasted of him, the scent of him filled her nostrils and yet it wasn't enough. She wanted his salt on her tongue, wanted to breathe him into her lungs and never exhale. It was as if there were some huge void inside her, as if a piece of her were missing, and Julian was the only one who could make her whole again.

He must have felt her rein over her control slipping, because he broke the kiss then. Hot and hungry, Sophia gazed up at him, her lids as heavy as his.

Still holding her palm to his chest, he raised his other hand to brush his fingers across her cheek. "I have to get ready for dinner," he said hoarsely.

And just like that he released her and moved away. Sophia watched in stunned silence as he snatched his shirt from the corner of the ring. He paused long enough to pull it over his head before striding toward the door.

"I will meet you in the red drawing room in half an hour," he promised without looking at her and was gone.

How long she stood there, alone and her body throbbing, Sophia didn't know. As soon as her trembling limbs were capable of movement, she bent and retrieved her gloves from the floor where she had dropped them. Slowly, she made her way out of the ballroom and back down the corridor toward the stairs. She still had to see Letitia.

But it wasn't her friend that occupied her thoughts as she climbed the stairs, pulling on her gloves. It was Julian. Why had he left the room as though the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels? He'd said he wanted to marry her. Hadn't he?

No, he hadn't. In fact, he hadn't said much of anything. He'd turned it around and asked her what she wanted to do and then he'd kissed her. Yet, she had offered him the chance to walk away and he hadn't taken it.

Was it possible she had been wrong about his feelings for her? Perhaps his desire for her wasn't equal to what she felt for him. Perhaps that was why he had stopped the kiss. Perhaps he'd been disgusted by her obvious hunger for him, although that hardly seemed likely.

Maybe, a small voice in her head whispered, he didn't want to take you right there in the ballroom.

Maybe she was making more out of this than was necessary. It wouldn't be the first time she'd allowed her imagination to run away with her. She would wait and see how he treated her for the rest of the evening, and if she was still uncertain at the end of it, she would ask him.

After all, hadn't he as good as come out and said he wanted there to be complete honesty between them? He wanted her to trust him, did he not? Well then, she could start by trusting him to be truthful with her when she asked. Even if she was a little scared of what his answer might be.

Pushing Julian as far from her thoughts as she could, Sophia turned down the hall at the top of the stairs and rapped on Letitia's door.

"Come in."

Sophia stepped into the frilly peach-and-white bedroom with a tentative smile. "Hello, Letitia."

"Sophia!" The younger woman jumped up from her dressing table, leaving her maid staring after her, and ran to Sophia with open arms. "Oh, how good it is to see you! I cannot believe that it took you this long to come see me!"

Drawing free of her friend's embrace, Sophia laughed. All her concerns about Letitia's thoughts on her engagement to Julian disappeared. "I was waiting for you to come see me!"

Her eyes bright, Letitia laughed as well. "That will be all, Dulcie," she said, dismissing the maid.

When the young girl was gone, Letitia gripped Sophia by the hand and led her toward the bed with barely suppressed girlish exuberance.

"I want to hear everything. How did Julian propose? Was he a gentleman or did he manage to make a mess out of it?"

"He was a perfect gentleman," Sophia replied, sitting on the bed beside her. Perhaps a perfect gentleman wouldn't have branded her with a kiss that made her toes curl, but who on earth wanted to marry a perfect gentleman?

"I cannot believe you accepted him," Letitia admitted with a grin. "I expected you to tell him to go straight to the devil!"

Sophia smiled. "I thought about it, but he was so very sincere about wanting to make things right. It was the right decision given my other options."

Wrinkling her nose, Letitia shook her head. "That is not very romantic."

"No, it is not." Sophia chuckled. There were things that she would never tell Letitia, how Julian made her feel was one of them.

"I hope this will not change our relationship?" Sophia couldn't keep the hopeful tone from her voice.

Letitia patted her on the knee. "Of course not! I could not ask for a better sister. Although it might very well drive me to strangle my brother."

Sophia's eyes widened. "What has happened?"

Letitia rolled her big eyes. "Only that his own impending wedding has made him all the more anxious to see me married off as well."

"Oh, dear." Sophia winced. "He is still pushing for one of his own choices?"

Her friend nodded, a wry expression on her face. "Oh, yes! He has it narrowed down to two and he will not stop talking about them whenever we are together. I have told him I have no interest in marrying either man, but he refuses to listen."

Sophia felt truly sorry for Letitia and for Julian as well. He only wanted what was best for his sister, but his love for her made it hard for him to listen to her own wishes.

"Have you tried talking to him about Mr. Wesley?"

Letitia looked away. "Only once since that day he told me to forget him. I mentioned that I had seen Mr. Wesley at a party and he told me again to stay away from him." Her angry gaze returned to Sophia's. "He cares nothing about my happiness!"

Sophia soothed her friend with a soft shush. "My dear, of course he cares about your happiness! He just believes he knows what will make you happy better than you do." She smiled.

Scowling, Letitia rose to her feet. "If he will not listen to me I will have to
make
him listen. I will— "

"You will what?" Sophia asked, a frisson of dread creeping up her spine.

Letitia shrugged, all the anger seeming to drain out of her. "What can I do?" she demanded, averting her gaze. "Only refuse to marry whoever Julian chooses. That and hope that dear Lord Penderthal dies soon, so that my Mr. Wesley might come into his inheritance."

It was awful of Letitia to wish for someone's death, but Sophia couldn't blame her for it.

"Would you like it if I offered to try talking to your brother?"

"No!" Letitia's expression was earnest. "Promise me you will not tell Julian about Mr. Wesley and me. I do not know how he will react."

"If he knew you were already in love it might help to change his mind."

The younger woman shook her head. "It would only make him more adamant to keep me away from Mr. Wesley. Promise me, Sophia, that you will not say anything until I give you leave."

Against her better judgment Sophia agreed. As much as she wanted to believe Julian would change his mind where his sister's marriage was concerned, she could not truthfully say that he wouldn't turn out to be like her father. As long as Letitia thought it a real possibility, and as long as Julian continued to act in such a heavy-handed manner, she had no choice but to be cautious. She would hate to see Letitia forced into marriage, just as she would hate to see her hang all her hopes on one young man. What if Mr. Wesley didn't propose?

And she would hate to see Letitia end up resenting Julian as Sophia resented her father.

"Let us have no more melancholy talk," she suggested, also rising. "It will all work out, you will see. Why don't we go down to the drawing room and have a glass of sherry before the other guests arrive?"