The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest (8 page)

Chapter 8

The carriage rolled down the cobblestone
road, crunching into the darkness beyond. Sophie and Gregory sat
side by side, his arm wrapped around her waist. She leaned her head
against his shoulder and closed her eyes, giving herself up to the
touch and scent that were distinctively Gregory Thurston.

“Tell me about your sister.”

The quiet demand in his voice held no hint of
morbid curiosity or condemnation that often accompanied this
question. For that reason, she told him the truth.

“It was a spring day and I was tending the
flowers. Two hours or so had passed when I decided to take a break
for afternoon tea and went to fetch Caroline. I knew she’d be
terribly disappointed if she missed Mrs. Jeffries’ lemon cakes.
When I couldn’t find her in the house, I ventured to the lake where
Mother and I often took Caroline to feed the ducks.” It still
pained her to recall the next events. “I found my sister
unconscious, a short distance from the water. I carried her back to
the house and put her to bed. When she woke, she couldn’t speak.
That was ten years ago. Caroline was three years old.”

“I’m very sorry,” he said gently.

“Doctors don’t know what happened. I think
she saw Mother drown and the shock of it left her speechless.”

“Good God, that’s horrible.”

“I’ll do anything to protect my sister.”

“As you should,” he said, “and you may begin
by putting an immediate end to the foolish behavior I witnessed
this evening.”

“Foolish behavior?” She sat ram-rod straight
and peered at him in the dim light.

“Your willfulness nearly got you attacked.
Any man could have pressed his favors upon you and you would not
have been able to protect yourself.”

“You think I
invited
that beast’s
attention? I did nothing to encourage his advances other than seek
refuge in the quiet of an unoccupied room.”

“Which apparently was not unoccupied.” He
stared at her a full moment, the tiny twitch in his jaw the single
betrayer of emotion.

The man so enjoyed stating the obvious.
Sophie shifted in her seat and settled her gaze on the passing
darkness of the night.

“Look at me.” The words spoken so softly
could have been those of a lover, but she sensed the underlying
menace in his tone and hazarded a glance in his direction. Fire
burned deep in his dark eyes as he vowed, “I’ll show you exactly
what it means for a man to press his favors upon a woman so you’ll
not be mistaken again.” He grabbed her waist and hefted her onto
his lap. She tried to squirm away but he merely pushed her onto the
cushions of the carriage and leveraged the upper portion of his
massive body on top of her. He pinned her arms above her head, his
tongue forcing her lips apart, and thrust inside. She tried to
fight but he was too strong. Then the kiss gentled.

He licked the edges of her lips, dropped
light kisses on her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the cleft in her
chin. Ever so slowly, he kissed his way back to her lips. She
stopped fighting and arched her body to meet his, opening her mouth
to him.

“Gregory . . .” she sighed as he planted tiny
kisses along her jaw and throat. His tongue on her skin made her
burn and ache for more. Realizing he’d long since released his hold
on her, she circled her arms around his neck, entwining her fingers
in his thick hair. He worked his way down her throat and settled on
her breast. She closed her eyes, savoring the pleasure of his hands
cupping her breasts. Her nipples swelled and tightened as he traced
them through the silken fabric of her gown. Oh, how she longed to
feel his touch without the constraint of clothing.

He must have sensed her desire, for his
fingers became more feverish, his breathing more erratic as he
loosened her chemise and exposed naked flesh. When he drew a nipple
into his mouth, she bit her lower lip to keep from screaming her
pleasure. Gregory continued to suckle first one breast and then the
other as his hips crushed hers into the cushions in a deliriously
intoxicating rhythm.

The world shrank to the confines of the
carriage and all that mattered were Gregory’s mouth and hands on
her body. When he pulled away, she urged him back but he resisted
with whispered promises of things to come. His hand slid under her
gown, traveling slowly along her silk-clad legs. No well bred lady
should actually
want
to be touched in that most private
spot, but dear Lord,
she
did.

Gregory continued his torment, inching up her
thighs with delicious caresses. After what seemed two eternities,
he reached the apex of her thighs and gently cupped her womanhood.
Oh, good heavens!
She gasped and bucked off the seat.
“Gregory,” she moaned.

“Does that feel good, my sweet?”

“Oh, yes,” she panted, raising her hips to
meet his fingers.

He found the slit in her pantaloons, slipped
a finger into the very heat of her and said in a strained voice,
“Can you now see the dangerous consequences a young lady could
suffer were she permitted to run unprotected about the
countryside?”

“Ah . . .yes . . . ah . . .yes!” She tugged
at his collar, drawing his mouth to mate with hers. The kiss
matched the fever pulsing in her body as she thrust her hips off
the cushions, driving toward a pleasure just beyond her reach.
Gregory’s expert hands and mouth teased and tormented, and when she
could take no more, she exploded in a lightning bolt of sensation,
his name on her lips as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through
her and the world outside the carriage ceased to exist.

***

Holt stared at the proud beauty before him. A
thin film of perspiration covered the exposed parts of her
exquisite body; perfect for a man to taste. Her lips remained
slightly parted, as though in invitation, her breath still
unraveling in quick, unsteady gasps.

Never before had he been so moved and by God,
he hadn’t even made love to her yet! Not that he would be able to
now, for the carriage had long since stopped, and he would not
subject her to the humiliation of possible discovery. Damnation, he
hadn’t meant for things to go this far. He’d only intended to teach
her a well-deserved lesson, but once his lips touched hers, all was
indeed lost. Gregory stroked her cheek, tenderness swelling inside
him like a foreign object. “Sophie? Are you all right?” She nodded,
her gaze skittering from his. She attempted to sit up and readjust
her clothing. “Allow me.” His knuckles brushed her breasts as he
deftly tied the laces of her chemise. “We can’t continue to pretend
we aren’t attracted to one another.” There, he’d said it.

She eyed him. “What are you saying?”

“This changes everything.” He trailed his
fingers along her cheek, her jaw, the cleft in her chin. “I want
you, Sophie. God knows I’ve tried to deny it from the first, but I
can’t continue. I can make you very happy. Just tell me yes.”

Her face burst with a smile and she flung her
arms about his neck. “Yes!”

He sighed and cradled her to his chest, more
at peace than he’d been in years. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll
locate a townhouse, wherever you want, though I’d prefer you not be
more than a stone's throw away. Of course, we’ll use the utmost
discretion and I would provide for your sister as well.”

Sophie lifted her head and asked, “Why would
we have to use discretion?”

Holt cleared his throat and hesitated several
seconds before plunging forward. “I know you think I care nothing
for convention but I do care about you and avoiding unwanted
talk.”

She stared at him, confusion spreading across
her face. “Why would our marriage create unwanted talk?”

“Marriage?” He almost choked on the word.
“What in the devil are you talking about?”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What in
the devil are
you
talking about?”

“I assure you, it is not marriage!”

Her voice flattened. “You want me to be your
whore.”

Blast the woman, why did she have to make
this so very difficult? “I want us to be together. I’ll provide for
all of your needs, as well as your sister’s. You’ll want for
nothing. I’ll even help your father out of his financial
situation.” There, that should appease her. He sat back, thinking
he’d done a rather admirable job explaining the situation and his
willingness to help her family. What more could she want?

“I’ll not be your whore.”

“Damnation, stop speaking in such an
unbecoming manner. I want us to be together, why does it need to be
more complicated than that?” When she didn’t speak, he went on,
“Marriage is a sham. It would only destroy us.”

She said nothing for a long while and when
she did speak, her words fell upon him in emotionless waves. “It
seems we have very different views on what our relationship should
be. It appears there’s nothing more to discuss, other than the
question of honor.”

She was too calm.
Obviously
, she
hadn’t liked his idea, but given time she’d see the right of it.
And what was this nonsense about honor? “Whose honor?” he nearly
growled.

Her look remained serene, her voice calmer
yet. “Why yours of course. I’m a maiden interested in marriage.
You, on the other hand, are not.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before
he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “You, my lady,
are no maiden. No woman responds the way you do and maintains her
virginity, so let us dispense of the games.”

Her back stiffened and she retorted, “Whether
or not you believe me is of no consequence. I ask only that you
refrain from touching me again. I want no further contact with you
and wish to forget we ever had any association with one other.”

“Not bloody likely.” She was getting out of
control and he was getting angry.

“You would see me ruined then?” she spat out,
her voice no longer quiet, her eyes burning into his. Fists
clenched and unclenched in her lap as though she fought the urge to
sock him in the face. “You care so little you would parade me as
your whore to all of society and expect they will look the other
way because society dictates mean nothing to you? I won’t deny my
attraction to you but I’ll not be your whore, or paramour, or
whatever fancy name you wish to pin on me. Please, for once in your
life, be the gentleman. Give me your word you will leave me alone
so I may seek a proper husband.”

He stared out the window into the darkness,
his mouth hard, eyes narrowed. For a long while he said nothing.
Finally, the words came. “My dear lady, I will not bother you
again.” He should have left it at that. But he couldn’t. He pushed
on and spoke words meant to inflict pain. “In truth you are not
worth the trouble when there are so many others eagerly willing to
fill the position.”

She gasped and flung open the carriage door,
bounding from it and disappearing behind the walls of Waverly Manor
in mere seconds.

“Good riddance,” Holt muttered. “Marriage,
indeed.”

Chapter 9

Holt inched his eyes open. Where the hell was
he? He turned his head slowly, trying to still the pounding in his
temples. Another night of too much whiskey. The morning results
were always the same, but at least the whiskey numbed the
nights.

“Arghh . . .” he groaned, wishing he’d
stopped a whiskey short of this blasted headache. The woman beside
him stroked her pink-tipped nails along his belly. Her full lips
opened to a generous smile as she rubbed her breasts against him
and stroked the medallion dangling from his neck with milk-white
fingers.

“Mmmm,” she murmured, laying her blond head
on his chest. “The jewel on this medallion is as mesmerizing as its
owner.”

Holt squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his
palms to his temples, and wished himself anywhere but in bed with
Jessica Heathers. In God's name, how had he fallen so low? It
wasn’t necessary to elicit divine assistance to determine the
reason for his plunge into the depths of depravity. He knew exactly
how it had happened. The very thought of
her
made his
breathing quicken in anger and something else he could not
define.

Lady
Sophie Seacrest was invading his
thoughts again, as she had for practically every waking and
sleeping moment these past six weeks.

When she had so carelessly cut him from her
life the night he informed her she would be his mistress, he’d gone
straight back to the soiree and without more than five words taken
Jessica Heathers to her home and her bed. He’d remained there two
days and nights attempting to exorcise the green-eyed witch who had
stolen his soul. He should have enjoyed the naked beauty beside
him. Jessica Heathers knew how to pleasure a man but truth would
have it, he’d needed to remain in a semi-stupor to feel even
momentary desire for her and even then the image of a certain
auburn-haired enchantress forced itself into his mind. It wasn’t
Jessica's face he saw as she lay beneath him, not Jessica's arms
and legs wrapped tightly around him as he pumped into her.

He saw Sophie's face, Sophie's body. Would he
never be rid of her? The fear he might not, made him more
determined to drive her from his mind. After two days with the
widow Heathers, a woman whom he bore not even a passing fondness
for, he decided to test other available females in hopes they would
drive away his obsession with Sophie Seacrest. It wasn’t difficult
to find willing partners. One suggestive look across a ballroom and
women flocked to him. He only took the experienced ones who knew
exactly what he was offering and would not expect more.

Unfortunately, no matter how many women he
bedded, his desire for Sophie did not wane. Weeks passed with Holt
working all day, whether at the docks, overseeing the lands or
tending the books. He contacted Rendhaven and informed him his
daughter’s assistance was no longer needed and all further business
would be conducted between the two men only. Each night he attended
various functions and if he returned home, it would be a few hours
before dawn. On several occasions, he and Sophie attended the same
functions. He quickly overcame his initial shock at seeing her
again, and decided the best course of action was to ignore her
completely. Once, when an elderly earl deigned to introduce them to
one another, Holt smiled politely, murmured a few words as he
glanced at her flushed face, and turned on his heel, the woman on
his arm trailing behind. Touching Sophie again was too dangerous;
therefore, he simply walked away.