Defiant: 5 (Noble Passions) (14 page)

She did not agree. She shifted, spreading her knees wider,
and buried her fingers in the globes of his bottom, digging in, trying to
control his movements. “Faster,” she commanded. “More.”

Damn if she wasn’t an insistent little thing.

It was only polite to comply with a request from a lady.
Even when she was dressed as a man.

He increased his pace, the heat of his thrusts. Faster and
faster in accordance with her demands. Her cries twined with his groans and the
sound of flesh slapping flesh as he ravaged her.

She came again and her hold on him tightened unbearably.
Heat crawled up his spine and then back down again; need howled at the base of
his being. His balls tightened. His cock swelled. Insanity hovered. And then it
descended.

Though he was nearly insensate with pleasure, his body
forged on, pounding into her at a manic pace even as he came. Even as the fire
took him, and her.

They clung to each other as they recovered, though recovery
was difficult, as she kept nuzzling his neck.

“Oh dear,” she said once he had withdrawn and cast about to
find her pants. He dressed her gently, fitting one limp leg in and then the
other. “I did not intend for that to happen.”

His head jerked up. He stared at her. “You did not?”

“Ned.” She shot him a repentant smile. “You’re still
recovering—”

“I am practically recovered.”

“I would expire if I hurt you. But honestly, darling…” She
stood and did up her pants because his fingers were still trembling. He saw to
his own, which had never so much as left his hips. “I couldn’t stop myself.
Once you kissed me, I mean. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed that. My life has been
so dreary without you.”

“And mine without you.” He picked up her hat and set it on
her head, though it was truly absurd.

“Blast Ewan for keeping us apart. I cannot bear it. I
cannot.” That tears welled in her eyes devastated him.

“Neither can I.”

“Really?” She sent him a hopeful smile.

“Really, darling.” He kissed her again, but softly. He knew
the danger here. If he allowed his kiss to linger, they would end up back on
his cape.

“I’ve been thinking, Ned.” A skirl of dread threaded through
him. There was always trouble when she’d been thinking. “We should run away
together.”

Ah yes. The dread blossomed. “Sophia—”

She stiffened at his reluctant tone. “You don’t want to run
away with me?” Blast. Tears again.

“Sophia. I want nothing more. But I would not dishonor you.”
He glanced at his rumpled cape on the gazebo floor and added to himself,
more
.
“Besides, I have a better plan.”

She shifted anxiously, her eyes alight. “Do you?”

“Yes. I’ve spoken with Edward and Ewan about the plans for
my future.”

“And?”

“I told Ewan I intend to offer for you—”

“Oh, excellent.” She clapped.

“Once I’ve made something of myself.”

Her smile fell. “You are something, Ned.”

“Not nearly enough. Not for you. I want to be worthy—”

“Worthy? Bah! You saved my life, for pity sake. What could
be more worthy?”

“A fortune. Like your brother’s.”

She frowned at him. “It took him years to make his fortune.
I cannot wait years.”

His heart stuttered. “You cannot wait for me?” A small voice
for such a devastating thought.

“Ned.” She cupped his cheek. “I would wait for you forever.
But I’m not getting any younger. I’m practically on the shelf.”

“Never say it.”

“Besides, I don’t want to wait. Think how much we shall miss
this.” She traced his cock. And blast it all, it started to rise. Again.

“Sophia—”

“Besides, Ewan had to resort to nefarious means to make his
fortune. I don’t want that for you.”

“I don’t intend to break the law, darling. Edward has gifted
me a stable. I believe I can make a go of it. Enough money to support you in
the manner to which you have become accustomed at least.”

Her frown darkened. “The manner to which I have become
accustomed?”

“Jewels. Gowns. Silk slippers.”

She gestured to her person. “I believe I can manage without
all that. Ned, you goose. All I want is you.”

“We have to eat.”

“I can afford a loaf of bread now and again. I do have pin
money, you know.”

He smiled gently. “We cannot live on your pin money.” He
kissed her forehead. “It won’t be long, darling. A year at the most. Maybe two.”

“Maybe two?” She stared at him in horror.

“But this is the important bit. Ewan has promised he will
not force you to wed another, if you are willing to wait. Tell me you are
willing to wait. Please.” He hated the desperation in his tone but it was only
a mere reflection of the desperation in his soul.

“Of course I will wait. But Ned—”

“Thank you. Thank you, darling.” He kissed her the way he
wished, the way he craved, with a savage abandon. God, it was wonderful,
holding her again. It would be hell waiting but his hunger would likely spur
him to greater success. At least he hoped so. And perhaps on occasion they
would be at the same ball or the same musicale. Perhaps on occasion they could
see each other. Be like this again. Perhaps on occasion—

“What the
fooking
hell is this?”

A dark growl shook the timbers of the little gazebo. Slowly,
Ned turned, though he knew what he’d see. Ewan. He would recognize that growl
anywhere.

What he didn’t expect was Violet at his side. And Edward.
And Kaitlin. And Malcolm, who was smirking. Some woman he didn’t recognize
stood with them, her mouth agape.

Ewan’s gaze drifted downward to the cape spread out on the
floor. Wrinkled.

His face went red. His meaty hands fisted. A horrifying
pulse began to thrum in his temple.

Violet set her hand on his arm. As though to hold him back.

Violet was, of all of them, the most optimistic.

“I will kill you.” Lord, but his brogue was thick when he
was incensed.

“We were just talking,” Sophia chirped.

Ned’s head whipped around. He gaped at her. Such a blatant
lie. Surely no one would—

“I see that,” Kaitlin said. She didn’t bother holding back a
smile.

“Ye cannot talk well with your mouth on her,” Ewan growled.

“
Her?
” This sharp trill from the elegant lady. She
leaned in to peer at Sophia.

“And why the
fook
are you dressed like that?”

Sophia twirled. “I’m a pirate.”

“I thought I told you to stay a’home.”

“How could I miss this?” Ah, how she smiled at her brother.
So calmly, as though doom was not ringing down upon their heads.

“Lady Jersey? Are you all right?”

Ned’s attention shifted to Violet, who held the older woman
in her arms.

She fanned herself with her fingers. “I think I feel faint,”
she warbled.

Violet fluttered her lashes. “Ewan, please help Lady Jersey
back inside. She’s feeling faint.”

He glared at his wife. Then he glared at Sophia. Then he
glared at Ned. He took a step forward.

“Ewan!”

Thankfully his wife’s call was more powerful than his desire
to pound Ned into the ground. “Stay with them,” he snapped at Edward and
Malcolm, who both nodded. Though their grins were wide.

Ned’s bowels didn’t relax until Ewan disappeared from sight,
practically carrying Lady Jersey back to the house.

“Well, you’ve done it now,” Malcolm blurted, tossing himself
on the bench. “You’ll have to marry her.”

Good.

Excellent.

In fact—

His heart stalled. He couldn’t. Not yet. He had to
prove
himself first. He wound his fingers through Sophia’s. She gave him a comforting
squeeze.

“No,” he said.

She yanked her hand away. Stared at him with a mixture of
annoyance and hurt on her face. “What do you mean, no?”

“I told you, darling. I need to make my fortune first.”

“And I told you. I have an allowance.”

“And I told you,” Edward put in, “you don’t need to worry
about that.”

Heat prickled at his nape and crawled up his face. “My
entire life I’ve been told how worthless I am. First by the man I thought was
my father—”

“Horace was a bastard,” Edward said.

“A right bastard,” Malcolm added. Malcolm made no secret of
the fact he despised the man who had raised them and beaten them at every
opportunity.

“And now Ewan.” His hands curled into fists. “I must make my
mark as a man. I must prove myself worthy.” As desperately as he yearned to
claim Sophia as his own, he needed this.
Needed
it.

Sophia sighed. “Ned. Dearest. You don’t need to prove
anything to me.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her brow. Her
sweet, soft brow. “I know that, sweeting. But I must prove it to myself. Don’t
you see?”

She put out a lip. He itched to kiss that too but did not.
Not with an audience. “No.”

“I need to stand on my own two feet—”

“Ned, you are a wonderful man. Strong, proud, brave.” She
traced his chin. “You’re the only one who doesn’t see the truth of it. Why do
you have to be so stubborn?”

“Because he’s a Wyeth?” Malcolm offered.

“He is a Wyeth,” Edward said. “And as such, more than man
enough to claim his destiny.”

Ned let out a breath. “I understand what you are all saying.
And I appreciate it. But I simply must make my own way. However long it takes.”

Sophia unleashed a very unladylike snort.

“Please understand, darling. This is very important to me.”
He tried to invest his tone with the depth of his feeling and was gratified to
see her soften.

Before she was adequately softened, Malcolm felt the need to
quip, “Has it occurred to anyone else that her reputation is in tatters?”

“It’s occurred to me,” Edward drawled.

Something nasty snarled and spat in Ned’s belly. He had
ruined her quite thoroughly. But he did intend to marry her. As soon as he
could afford to keep her.

He glared at his brothers, but before he could respond,
Sophia huffed a breath and said, “I don’t give two figs for my reputation.”

He gaped at her. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” A tear pooled in her eye. “All I want is
for you to be happy.”

“You make me happy, Sophia. But I need…I must…” How could he
explain?

Their gazes tangled; an unspoken communication passed
between them. His heart swelled with the import of it. She
understood
.
He did not need to explain. He kissed her, hard and harsh. Her response was
just as desperate.

“Promise you’ll wait for me?”

“I already promised,” she grumbled. “But don’t make me wait
too long.”

“Thank you, darling. Thank you.” He kissed her again. Far
longer than he should have with his brothers looking on. He nodded to Edward. “See
that she gets home safely, will you?”

“Ned!” she wailed. “Are you leaving now?”

He pressed his lips to the tip of her tipped-up nose. “I
need to leave before Ewan returns—”

Malcolm linked his fingers and lounged back. “Highly
advisable.”

“And now that I have your promise, I must begin forging my
destiny. I will see you again, and soon, my love.” At least he hoped.

And then, with only several looks back, he left the garden.
Left the party. Left her and headed out into the world to make a man of
himself.

How annoying.

How utterly annoying.

Sophia glared at her brother across the table as he sipped
his consommé. It was all his fault. Ned had left—to God knew where and for God
knew how long—and she was stuck here with a brother she wanted to throttle.

To make matters worse, the doctor had confirmed that Violet
was with child. Again.

Sophia was not sure why this truth made her want to crumble
into a pile and cry but she suspected it had something to do with the fact
that, had her brother not so adamantly rejected Ned’s suit, they could be
married now.
She
could be with child. She could be holding a tow-haired
babe to her breast.

Instead of hiding from the scandal.

Though, to be frank, there were benefits to being ruined.
Thanks to Lady Jersey, who was a matron of the
ton
, word of her private
tête-à-tête
with a man—unescorted—had filtered out. But in truth, that had not been as
appalling to polite society as the fact she’d been wearing trousers.

Honestly. They lived in such a ridiculous world.

At any rate, the result of her fall from grace was that
suitors had stopped calling. All of them.

It was a relief, to be sure.

Ewan was distraught, but it was no more than he deserved.

He’d ruined her life.

“Eat your soup,” Violet urged.

Sophia crossed her arms. “I’m not hungry.” She’d only come
down to dinner—the first time in weeks—because Ewan had stood at her door
railing and battering at it and issuing all manner of threats. She hadn’t been
hungry for days now.

All she could do was curl up in her bed and think about Ned
and weep.

And occasionally retch.

Probably a result of the crying.

Damn and blast.

She understood Ned’s desire to be something but didn’t he
see? Didn’t he understand? He was already something. He was everything.

Without him, the sun failed to shine.

Of course, it was England. And it was spring. The sun rarely
shone. But that was beside the point.

The footmen removed the consommé and replaced it with the
fish, which she poked at because Violet insisted she
try
to eat. And
then the beef and puddings, all of which made her stomach roil.

Ewan sat across from her, glaring and shoveling food in his
mouth as though his efforts could make up for hers. Or as though he could make
her eat by sheer force of will.

He could not.

When the trifles came, she’d had enough. She tossed her
serviette onto the table and stood.

“Where do ya think yer going?”

She frowned at him. “To my room.”

“Sit down.”

She put a hand to her belly. “I feel ill.”

“Sit. Down.”

“Ewan.” Violet set her hand on his arm. “Let her go.”

“I will nae. She’s not ill. She’s stubborn. She’s going to
eat with us if it kills her. Sit down.”

Sophia plopped into a chair. A footman set a lovely dessert
before her. She stared at it in horror. Something rose within her, something
bitter.

She couldn’t hold back. Not any longer.

She opened her mouth and it all came pouring out.

All over her trifle.

Violet accompanied her to her room. She frowned as she
helped Sophia tidy up and change into her nightgown. “We’re very worried about
you,” she said.

“Ewan’s not.”

“He is. He is.” She drew her hand over Sophia’s brow. “Are
you ill?”

“I’m pining.” Sophia hated that tears gathered on her
lashes. She wasn’t a piner. She never pined.

“I am so sorry.” Violet gathered her into a hug and that was
all it took for Sophia to break. She clung to her sister-in-law and wept.

“I m-miss h-him s-so m-much.”

“I know. I know.”

But she didn’t know. No one
knew
. How could they?
They thought she was a girl, incapable of true and lasting love. She wasn’t a
girl. She was a woman. And Ned was a man.
Her
man. She lifted her face
to Violet’s. “Wh-where is he?”

“He’s gone to Watersly.”

“Where?”

“His estate. In Kent.”

“Kent?” So very far away. And then, “He has an estate?”

“Edward gifted it to him. It has stables.”

“Oh.” He would like that. He did love his horseflesh. She
wondered how far away Watersly was and if she could convince Pippin, the stable
boy, to help her steal her brother’s carriage. Probably not. Pippin was very
loyal to Ewan.

“Sophia. What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“I know that look. You are not hieing off to Kent.”

She put out a lip. Damn annoying, it was, when people knew
one so well.

Violet chuckled. “I have a better plan.”

“You do?” Judging from Violet’s expression, it was a wicked
plan.

She nodded. “Both Ewan and Ned are stubborn—”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

“When faced with such intransigence, a woman must, on
occasion, resort to desperate schemes.”

“Desperate schemes?”

“Yes. What is the one thing that will bring Ned and Ewan to
heel?”

Sophia shook her head. She’d thought and thought and hadn’t
been able to come up with one situation where her brother or her love would
relent.

Violet tsked. “I am disappointed in you, Sophia.”

“Never say it!”

“The solution is more than clear. Ewan is well aware you
have been debauched.”

Sophia smiled at the word. She loved that word.

“He suspects it might have happed during your adventure—”

Yes. It had.

“And you have been ill.”

What was she getting at? Sophia wrinkled her nose and
thought about—

Oh. Oh my. Her gaze snapped to Violet, who nodded; her
wicked grin broadened.

“But I had my courses.”

“Who knows? Other than Nan? And she wouldn’t tell. Aside
from which, my dear, if I am not mistaken, another opportunity for a happy
accident occurred recently at the Billingsly soirée.”

A tremendous excitement welled in her chest. And twined with
it, a sudden, glorious hope. Oh yes. Yes!

She set her palm to her belly. “I have been ill. And
listless and—what else have I been?”

“Weepy. Cranky.” Violet nibbled her lip. “Craving strange
foods.”

“Oh yes. All of that.”

“I thought so.” She winked. “I shall speak to Ewan tonight.
Subtly. Dropping but a seed here or there. We shall let him work it out on his
own.”

“Oh, thank you, Violet! Thank you!”

They hugged again and then Violet helped her slip into bed. “We’ll
have Ewan St. Andrews pounding on Ned’s door demanding he marry you within a
fortnight. Trust me.”

Sophia curled up and closed her eyes after Violet left but
she couldn’t sleep. She was far too excited. Also, ill. She cast up her
accounts two more times before she finally drifted off, but when she did there
was a smile on her face.

* * * * *

The next morning when Sophia appeared at the breakfast
table, her brother studied her warily over his crisply pressed paper. “How are
you feeling?” he asked.

“Oh, much better,” she gusted. She picked up her plate and
filled it from the breakfast bar. Eggs and sausage and a healthy serving of
kippers.

Violet, who already had her plate, observed her choices with
a nod. She hid the glimmer in her eye from her husband.

Be sure to take kippers
, she had advised.
And eat
them all.

Sophia had never cared for kippers but she had to admit, as
she took her seat and tucked in, there was something satisfying in their salty
flavor. When she finished them, she went back for more.

“Sophia?”

She glanced at Ewan, a hunk of fish between her lips. He
seemed a little pale. “Yes?”

“You hate kippers.”

“These are rather good,” she insisted, shoveling more into
her mouth.

He glanced at Violet, who shrugged and said, “They are
rather good.”

“I thought you didn’t care for fish.”

“I don’t. Odd that.” She ate some and then looked back at
the buffet, wondering if she might take one or two more.

“Perhaps you should slow down.”

“I’m famished.”

“Have you—have you been ill again?”

“Only a little.” A footman refilled the platter. She licked
her lips.

Ewan’s gaze wavered from Sophia to his wife—who was also
wolfing down kippers. He went a little green. “Tired?”

“A bit.”

“Cranky?”

She glowered at him.

He set down his paper. It trembled decidedly. “Sophia…”

“Yes?”

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. Several
noises emerged. None of them intelligible in the slightest.

He stood.

“Ewan. Where are you going?” Violet asked.

“I…ah…need to go see Edward.”

“But darling. We’re having breakfast. And there are more
kippers…” But she spoke to his back. He had already stormed from the room.

Violet shot her a grin. “Well done, Sophia. Well done.”

Sophia took another bite and another still.

“You can stop eating them,” Violet said on a laugh. “He’s
gone.”

“I know,” Sophia said. “But they really are rather good.”

Why Violet gaped at her so, she had no clue.

* * * * *

Ned loved Watersly. The estate was small but charming and
the stables were magnificent. He’d brought Byzantium with him and he was glad
he had. Several fine mares were in season and they would make exquisite foals.

He was surprised at how much work there was to do and
thoroughly surprised at how much he enjoyed it. The only drawback was he missed
Sophia terribly. He thought of her all day, every day. But at night…at night,
he ached.

He reminded himself it wouldn’t be too long. A year at the
most until he knew how well he was doing. And then he could offer for her.

Still, a year?

The thought was dismal.

When depression hit him, he tucked in his chin and went back
to work. He had to prove himself to Ewan. And himself.

There were no two ways about it.

A movement at the wide doors of the stable caught his
attention and he looked up. And stilled. Swallowed.

Fuck.

Ewan.

He should have known the bastard would come to check up on
him. That Edward was with him, leaning against the jamb with a grin on his
face, didn’t help.

He dropped the curry brush on the table and steeled his
spine. “Hullo,” he said.

“Ned.” Ewan growled. His eyes flicked over Byzantium. “Is
this the horse?”

“Yes.”

He strolled closer, examining the tremendous chest, the
withers and strong-muscled legs. “A fine beast.”

Ned shot a look at Edward. “Yes. I thought so. Why have you
come?” Why prevaricate? It was a bit of a drive from London. Surely there had
been a reason, other than tormenting him.

“Tell him, Ewan.”

Ewan glared at Edward. His face rucked up in a moue of
displeasure. “You must come back to London.”

“Why? Is someone ill?”

Ewan paled. “No.” Why he needed to bark was a mystery.

“Then I cannot come.” He picked up the brush and continued
grooming the stallion. “There is much to do. It’s spring, you know.”

“Damnation, boy.”

Ned bristled. “I am not a boy.” He was four-and-fucking-twenty.
And damn tired of being called a boy.

“Yer a boy to me, boy!”

“Go to blazes!”

They stood toe to toe. Ewan was much taller and several
stone heavier but Ned didn’t back down. Why should he? This was
his
estate.
His
business.

“Yer coming back with us now. Today.”

“Ballocks. I am staying here and finishing what I started.”

“Proving yourself a man?” This from Edward.

“Damn straight.”

“A man takes responsibility for his actions.”

Ned’s blood went a little cold. It had little to do with
Ewan’s snarl, so much as his tone. “Which actions?”

“Debauching my sister, for one.”

Ned glanced at Edward, who shrugged. He had debauched
Sophia. Several times. Ewan hadn’t cared before. Why on earth did he care now?

“All her suitors have fled,” Edward explained. “Something
about her wearing the pants in the marriage.”

His heart clenched. Oh, poor Sophia. He hoped she was not
mortified by the scandal. A sudden wash of remorse scalded him. He had left her
alone to face it.

But before he could say anything, Ewan grumbled, “That’s not
the reason and you know it, Edward.”

“Then what is the reason?”

Ewan stared at him, his eyes red-rimmed. For a bull of a
man, he suddenly seemed tiny. “We think she’s increasing.” A whisper, as though
speaking the words could make his worst nightmare come true.

The bottom fell out of Ned’s world, or at the very least,
his stomach. He staggered a bit and grasped the reins to steady himself.

Byzantium rolled his enormous brown eyes and stared at him.

They all stared at him.

“I… What…? How…?”

“I think you know
how
.” Damn Edward and his damn
sense of humor.

Ewan leaned in and hissed, “She’s eating kippers.”

“Kippers?”

Edward chuckled. “Apparently by the bushel.”

“And that means…”

“Violet eats kippers.”

Ned frowned. “Violet hates fish.”

“Violet. Eats. Kippers.” Ewan’s face went red. “When she’s
increasing.”

Oh. Lord.

Ned swung to Edward. “Does Kaitlin?”

“No.”

Oh, thank God—

“When Kaitlin is increasing she prefers sweetmeats. And
haggis.”

“Haggis?” Ned made a face.

“What Kaitlin eats is beside the point,” Ewan interrupted
with a slash of his hand. “Sophia is eating kippers! You must come home and
marry my sister at once. I command it.”

Ned stepped back, not in fear of Ewan’s wrath as much to
avoid the spittle. “If you recall, sir, you stated with no equivocation, I am
not worthy of your sister.”