Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (12 page)

“But you cannot claim to be a good match. We have already discussed his lack of passion.
You know you are unlikely to find pleasure in your nuptial bed.”

“Marriage is not about pleasure,” Sophie countered.

“It should be.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes. At least, I believe it shouldn’t be devoid of pleasure and solely about duty.
But you are poorly matched in numerous other respects. I have watched you with Dunmore.
You have to bite your tongue frequently, especially when he begins spouting inanities.”

The duke’s limited conversation was indeed frustrating sometimes, Sophie thought.
“Perhaps, but he has a good heart.”

The faint scoffing sound Jack made held amusement. “He is like a puppy craving affection.
And he couldn’t be more dull. If you wed him, you will be bored to tears within a
fortnight. Come, admit it, there are times when you wish him to the devil. At the
masquerade, for instance, after he nearly broke your toes.”

Sophie frowned as she glanced down at Lord Jack. “Yes, but I prefer to be diplomatic
and polite. Too much honesty can be cruel.”

“And you are not cruel?”

“I hope not. Actually, I feel sorry for him. By all reports, he dearly loved his late
wife. She died of childbed fever after three stillborn births, so he has no children
or other close family to keep him company. Since he lost her, he has been all alone.”

“I’m beginning to realize your chief flaw, sweetheart. You are too tenderhearted.”

“I suppose so,” she said agreeably, refusing to take his bait.

“You must have had other suitors you prefer to
him,” Lord Jack prodded. “Skye tells me you have had several proposals before this.”

“A few.” As a girl she’d been fond of a young gentleman in her neighborhood, but she
had always known her attraction could go nowhere. “But I do have some things in common
with the duke.”

“Such as?”

“We are both fond of reading novels and poetry. In fact, the duke has an excellent
collection of first editions, including a volume of
Shakespeare’s Sonnets
and a signed copy of Lord Byron’s
The Corsair
. If I were to marry him, I could live vicariously through his books and pretend I
am having wonderful adventures.”

“You should be having wonderful adventures yourself. If you were to marry me, I would
make certain of it. For that matter, you could avail yourself of my Uncle Cornelius’s
library, which I’ll wager is vastly superior to the duke’s, although much of his collection
is
written in Greek or Latin.”

She gave him an arch glance. “But I won’t be marrying you, Lord Jack, so there is
no reason to joke about it.”

His mouth quirked. “I don’t consider matrimony a joking matter, I assure you. I was
merely making a theoretical observation.” He exhaled in a dramatic sigh. “It shouldn’t
surprise me that you are willing to overlook Dunmore’s shortcomings. A dukedom and
fortune can overcome myriad personal flaws.”

“I won’t deny those are advantages. But becoming his duchess would allow me to give
my parents the financial security they crave. Additionally, I could do a lot of good
for unwed mothers like our former
maid, Martha. Besides, many couples have less in common. If I wed his grace, I am
determined to make the best of our marriage.”

Her reasoning brought no counterargument from him, yet he did have a point, Sophie
acknowledged. To be honest, she had much more in common with Lord Jack. Certainly
they were closer in age. And she couldn’t deny the delicious chemistry between them.

To say he was different from the duke was a vast understatement. Lord Jack was clever
and quick-witted, with a magnetism that was enormously appealing. She enjoyed his
banter and his sense of humor. What was more, she could laugh with him.

She had to admit also that his interest in her was supremely flattering. She had never
had a suitor who cared to learn her thoughts and opinions. Certainly the duke was
drawn more by her physical appearance than her mind. In contrast, Lord Jack had encouraged
her to talk about her childhood, her family, her hopes and dreams, even though he
hadn’t reciprocated.…

She was about to ask him about his own upbringing when she suddenly became aware of
the passing time. The sun rising above the treetops suggested it was at least nine
o’clock.

With a sigh, Sophie gathered the remains of their breakfast, stoppering the flask
and folding the cloth that had held the crumpets. “I must return to the house to be
with my aunt’s guests,” she said reluctantly.

As she made to rise, Lord Jack reached out to catch her hand. “Don’t go yet.”

“I must.”

She greatly regretted having to end their pleasurable
rendezvous. Yet he wouldn’t release her hand, nor did he shift his position where
he lay on the blanket. “I will let you go, but first I demand a kiss.”

She smiled down at him. “You are hardly in a position to make demands.”

“On the contrary. A kiss is my price for keeping our tryst secret.”

“There you go again, attempting to blackmail me. You are deplorable.”

“No doubt.”

His fingers closing more tightly around hers, he rolled onto his side and gently tugged
her down to lie on the blanket opposite him.

They lay facing each other with their gazes locked, barely breathing. There it was
again—that intimate awareness between them. The connection she had never felt with
any other man, along with a jolt of desire so strong it made her shiver.

“Darling Sophie …”

How did he make her name sound like a caress? And how did he have such a powerful
effect on her?

“You have a lovely mouth, sweet Sophie. Let me taste you.”

She wanted to taste him also, she thought as her gaze dropped to his mouth. He was
so close, she was sure he could feel the longing thrumming through her body.

While she deliberated, he brought her hand to his cheekbone. Without conscious thought,
she touched his face in return, exploring the chiseled contours, the stubble of morning
whiskers on his jaw, the firm lips.…

At his murmur of approval, she lifted her gaze to
his again, to the dark eyes fringed with heavy lashes. His eyes were so beautiful.
The dancing lights in the inky depths were mesmerizing.

Why did he captivate her so? Every time he touched her, she felt a sudden, sharp leap
of hunger deep inside her. And she was woman enough to recognize the heated sparks
in his eyes. He wanted her, she was certain of it.

But he was leaving the decision to her.

She really had no choice, though. She wanted to feel his mouth against hers with a
kind of desperation that startled her.

Taking a shaky breath, Sophie rose onto one elbow and leaned closer so that she could
bend down to him. Her kiss was tentative at first, until his hand slid behind her
head to increase the pressure.

And just like that, he took the lead from her, moving his mouth over hers with extraordinary
slowness. The combination of heat and languid motion was unbelievably sensual. She
felt soft and achy inside at the deliberate, overpowering seduction of her senses.

Her woman’s body craving the maleness of him, she leaned closer and draped herself
over Lord Jack, pressing the softness of her breasts into the hard wall of his chest,
feeling the solid play of muscle beneath her body.

His tongue slid inside her mouth to meet hers then, and he drew her against him, until
the hard blade of his arousal prodded her loins through her skirts. She was not sexually
experienced, but she had garnered enough knowledge from Martha to know what to expect
from carnal relations.

Lord Jack was highly stimulated, she could tell.

As was she.

When his hand slipped beneath her cloak and molded to the curve of her breast, Sophie
gave a soft moan at the shocking trail of fire he ignited deep down inside her.

That helpless sound set warning bells ringing in her head. She was enjoying him far,
far too much. She had to go, for if she continued on this way, she would never leave.

Regretfully breaking off their kiss, Sophie opened her eyes. His had gone fire-dark
as he stared back at her. He was thinking wicked thoughts, she knew he was. She bit
her lip at the brazen images forming in her own mind.

Without breaking eye contact, he laced his fingers in hers and brought her palm to
his lips. The tender gesture was perfectly simple but somehow even more erotic than
anything he’d done before. Sophie felt her body go liquid and weak as the blaze of
wanting flamed higher.

Fighting the sensation, she inhaled a ragged breath. Summoning her fragile willpower,
she edged away from Lord Jack, then pushed shakily to her feet. “I cannot stay any
longer,” she murmured in explanation, absently brushing a wayward curl back from her
flushed face.

Surprisingly he didn’t object as he also rose. “I know. But there is hope for you
yet.”

“Hope?”

The smile he sent her was amused but tender. “We made good progress today with your
insurrection. Give me enough time and I will turn you into a full-fledged rebel.”

Sophie opened her mouth to refute him but knew he was right. He was effortlessly weaving
his spell about her; she could feel his enchantment drawing her closer. And given
enough time, she feared he would succeed.

She watched mutely as Lord Jack folded the blanket and carried it and the cloth and
flask to his saddlebag, then mounted his horse.

He urged the bay up the bank before glancing back down at her. “Forgive me but I won’t
be joining your guests for breakfast. My body needs to cool off first.”

With a wicked smile, Lord Jack nudged his horse into a canter across the bridge and
was gone.

Sophie stood staring after him, listening to the clattering hoofbeats fade away. Oh,
yes indeed, Lord Jack Wilde was different from any other suitor she’d ever known.
He stirred needs and desires that she hadn’t even realized existed. He filled her
with a sweet, aching longing and made her feel alive, thrillingly so. Her body was
still tingling from the contact with his hard, virile one.

Exhaling slowly, Sophie climbed the bank and reluctantly turned toward the house.

In the battle of her conflicting emotions, desire was winning, she knew. Yet she was
not willing to end their forbidden liaison just yet. At the end of the week, she would
have to set aside her foolish longings, but for a few days more, she could pretend
their growing intimacy was real and not some feverish, self-indulgent fantasy.

For a few days more she could let herself dream.

Upon returning to
the Hall in time to greet the early risers, Sophie devoted her attention to the guests,
particularly the Duke of Dunmore. Hosting such high-ranking nobility would be a challenge
since the Fortins had never moved in his gilded circles. Indeed, Sophie ordinarily
would not even have made his acquaintance. But at the beginning of the Season, Dunmore
had spied her at a musical evening and requested an introduction.

She had previously attended several other large country house parties, however, and
observed the glittering aristocracy at play, although Mrs. Pennant’s gathering would
boast less grandeur. For diversions, Sophie had planned an assortment of lawn games
and alfresco picnics, theatrical readings, and tours of the local sights, but only
one assembly with the neighboring gentry and no formal balls.

That first afternoon, the company visited the ruins of an ancient abbey, while the
evening was devoted to enacting parts of Shakespeare’s comedy,
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. Great hilarity ensued from the
actors’ efforts, both good and bad. Lady Skye proved so excellent at dramatic readings,
she seemed a born thespian. And Lord Jack was a natural himself. The cousins’ delightful
interplay on the makeshift stage was contagious, Sophie reflected.

She wished she could have joined in their witty exchanges, but she had to keep up
appearances of shunning the Wildes. Even if she couldn’t speak to Lord Jack, however,
she was keenly aware of his presence at every moment.

She was just as conscious of the powerful feelings he stirred inside her. No doubt
it was delusional to think their connection went beyond the physical. That there was
something more intimate that linked them on a deeper level. But she couldn’t deny
that he filled her with hope.

The duke, on the other hand, was nearly as staid and boring as Lord Jack had charged.
Watching the two gentlemen in close proximity, Sophie couldn’t help making comparisons.
Dunmore’s rather formal manners gave him a stilted tone, a severe contrast to Jack’s
easy ways, while his grace’s ostentatious display of wealth actually made her uncomfortable.
And most vexing, the duke was constantly at her side, which his rival didn’t fail
to observe.

Twice during that evening, she met Lord Jack’s gaze across the drawing room. He looked
perfectly solemn except for the devils dancing in his eyes, as if to say, “I told
you so.”