“Sophia!”
Her head lifted sharply as she turned in the direction of that familiar voice.
Magnus!
He rode astride a magnificent white horse, his eyes glowing as dark as slate in a face pale and lined with strain. His clothes were covered in a fine dust as he pulled his mount to a halt beside her to slide quickly from the saddle. He brushed aside her parcels and took her into his arms, and his mouth claimed hers in a devouring kiss.
Sophia was totally breathless by the time that kiss ended. “You—”
“No, Sophia, after the past three days of strain and worry as to your whereabouts and safety, this time, I shall be the one to do the talking and you will do the listening.” He looked every bit as cold and imposing as the first day they met, despite having kissed her so deeply.
Her chin rose. “You may talk all you wish, Magnus, but it will make no difference to what I already know to be the outcome of the conversation.”
His eyes narrowed. “Which is?”
“I shall ask you to leave and never return.” She bent to begin gathering up her parcels. “Indeed, I have no idea why you troubled yourself to come here in the first place—” She gasped as her parcels tumbled to ground again when Magnus took a tight grip of the tops of her arms and shook her.
“You have no idea why I have troubled myself to come here?” he repeated in a steely soft voice.
A chilling voice that made Sophia inwardly tremble, although she hoped she maintained a calm façade. “I believed I had made it obvious the last time we spoke that I have no wish to see or speak with you ever again.”
His jaw tightened. “I take it you are referring to the occasion when you did not even show me the courtesy of speaking to me face-to-face but shouted at me through a closed and locked door?”
Color warmed her cheeks. “I did not shout.”
“I distinctly remember your voice being raised.”
Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “And I recall you had just arrived at Weston House accompanied by the Earl of Harrogate.”
His brows lifted in admonition. “Your voice is rising in volume again.”
“What are you doing here, Magnus?” she snapped. “I was having a perfectly lovely day until you arrived.”
“Indeed?” His voice grew even colder. “Then we had best return to the school, I shall speak my piece and then be on my way back to London.”
Sophia had initially been stunned to see Magnus here, inwardly elated when he kissed her so fiercely, and she now felt a tightness in her chest at the thought of him leaving again so soon after he had arrived.
But what else could she expect when they could no longer even talk to each other without bitterness and recriminations?
“Very well.” She once again retrieved her parcels, holding them tightly to her chest as she turned and walked down the pathway toward the school. A glance behind her showed Magnus was following her on foot, leading his horse by the reins. If anything, his expression was even colder and more remote than when he first arrived.
This, looking at a stony-faced Sophia across the width of the desk in the room that was obviously her office at the school, was not how Magnus had envisaged it being when the two of them were together again.
Yes, he knew and accepted he had upset Sophia when last they spoke. But having spent the past three days worrying himself into an early grave about her, not eating or sleeping, as he first rushed about London looking for her before riding here, he had thought Sophia’s temper might have cooled a little when next they met. Obviously, it had not.
When he discovered Sophia and her carriage had departed Weston House in the middle of the night, Magnus had searched for her everywhere. At her cousin’s home. The home of the former pupil she had once mentioned having gone shopping with earlier in the week. He had even called at Hatfield House, the London home of her parents, in the remote hope she might have gone there. Then yesterday, Clarissa had been the one to suggest Sophia might simply have returned to her home in Portsmouth.
Magnus had almost killed his horse in his rush to get here as quickly as possible.
Only to be told by the caretakers at the school that Sophia was out shopping. Then been greeted by a cold and remote Sophia who had not even shown him the courtesy of taking him to her private rooms, but had instead brought him to the school office, as if he were no more or less to her than any other parent of a prospective pupil.
“Can we get this conversation over with, Magnus?” she prompted briskly at his continued silence. “The school will be reopening next month, and I have other things I need to do today.”
His hands bunched up at his sides. “If I were a violent man—I said if I was a violent man,” he repeated through gritted teeth when Sophia pushed back against her chair in alarm, “you would now find yourself thrown over my knee having your arse spanked for daring to speak to me in such a disdainful manner.”
“You—”
“I am your lover, Sophia,” he bit out in a harsh voice. “Not some man who has walked in off the street to ask for directions.”
“You were my lover,” she corrected. “Briefly. Very briefly. Now you are nothing more to me than Clarissa’s father.”
“My God, you are just like every other woman, after all.” Magnus gave a contemptuous shake of his head. “I had thought you were different. Someone to admire. To cherish. To love. But you are like every other woman I have ever known, totally uncaring of the feelings of others and only interested in doing and taking what you want, when you want it.”
“That is untrue—”
“Is it?” he rasped. “You left Weston House without any concern for the worry you caused to me or Clarissa. You left no word of where you were going. You have treated me abominably since I arrived here. And the reason for that?” he scorned. “Because you have consistently refused to even listen to anything I have to say. On any subject.” His top lip curled back with distaste. “Thank God you have allowed me to see the real you before my emotions became truly engaged.”
Every hurtful word Magnus spoke landed like a painful lash against Sophia’s flesh, the latter ones shattering her vulnerable heart. “That is unfair, Magnus.” Unbidden tears stung her eyes and misted her vision. “You hurt me when you brought that man into your house where I was staying.”
“And that is reason enough for you to treat me as something nasty stuck to the bottom of your shoe?” His gaze was flinty. “If you had bothered to listen to me rather than running away like an angry child, then you would have learned that I did what I did because I believe there was a grave injustice done to that young man ten years ago.”
Sophia rose noisily to her feet. “A grave injustice done to him?” she choked in disbelief. “He not only raped me but stripped away everything that was important to me!”
“Your parents’ attitude to what happened to you did that.”
“And he did those things to me!”
“Did he?”
“Yes!”
Magnus did not want this conversation to take place amidst anger, knowing that to do so would only result in there being even more misunderstandings than there already were. Indeed, he did not remember the last time he had been this angry, or if he ever had.
He had felt only resignation once he realized his marriage to Lucy was a mistake.
Become disinterested when he learned of the start of her numerous affairs within a year after Clarissa was born.
Maintained a cool aloofness after her death and the years that followed as he concentrated on raising Clarissa and managing his estates.
Only Sophia, it seemed, had the ability to make him lose his temper along with all sense of reason.
He drew in a controlling breath before speaking. “I intend booking a room at an inn in Portsmouth for the night. I suggest that if you wish to continue this conversation, you send word to me there before tomorrow morning, when I intend returning to London to deal with this situation once and for all.”
“What si
tuation?”
He gave a weary shake of his head. “I am tired and angry, and, quite frankly, at this moment in time, I am wondering why I even bothered coming here.”
Sophia winced. “I would not recommend staying at any of the inns in Portsmouth. It is a rowdy and noisy place at night and rife with pickpockets and other criminals.”
“Then where would you suggest I stay?” he drawled. “Along the roadside, perhaps? I will likely kill my horse if I attempt to ride him back to London tonight.”
A flush warmed her cheeks. “There are currently thirty empty bedchambers and more in the school.”
His brows rose to his hairline. “You are suggesting I stay here for the night?”
Sophia avoided meeting his gaze. “As I said, there are plenty of empty bedchambers upstairs.” She gathered up her set of keys from the desktop. “I will arrange for Jenkins, my groom, to take care of your horse in the stable with my own two horses.”
“Night.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My horse is known by the name Night. It is not his breeding name, of course, but it is the one he answers to.”
Sophia frowned. “But he’s white.”
“Gray,” Magnus corrected. “But when Lipizzaner horses are born, they are dark, often black, as Night was.”
Sophia’s brow cleared. “You allowed Clarissa to name him before he became a gray,” she guessed.
His mouth twisted. “Yes.”
She nodded. “If you will follow me, I will show you to the staff quarters, where you may take your pick of bedchambers.”
Magnus was at a complete loss as to how he came to be shown into a small but comfortable bedchamber only minutes later, his horse apparently being cared for in the stables.
One minute, he and Sophia had been berating each other, and the next, she was offering him a bed for the night. Not her bed, of course, but it was a strange situation nonetheless, considering their friendship seemed to be all but over.
“I will leave you to rest after your journey.” Sophia spoke from the doorway of the room. “I intend making a beef stew for dinner. It should be ready by about seven o’clock. If you decide to join me, we shall we eating in the kitchen,” she added in parting.
Magnus had no idea what or if he had decided anything in the past few minutes.
But as he first sat down, and then fell back onto the bed, sinking into the comfortable mattress, he found that he didn’t particularly care if it was his decision or not.
Sophia was safe and in the same building as he was, and making stew for their dinner, of all things.
Chapter 13
Sophia schooled her features into cool politeness as she glanced across at the man standing in the kitchen doorway. “The food is almost ready, if you would care to sit down?” She indicated the wooden table in the middle of the room, about which eight chairs were placed. “I realize this is not what you are used to, but it will be more comfortable to eat in here, with the heat of the range, than in the formal dining room.”
Sophia had been aware of Magnus’s presence within the school for the whole of the time it had taken her to prepare and cook the meal. Even if she had not actually seen anything of him until he went outside earlier to draw water up from the well to freshen himself before dinner, she had still known Magnus was here.
Because of that strange magnetic pull that still seemed to exist between the two of them?
Possibly.
Although this Magnus was not the compassionate and caring man and passionate lover she had come to know in London for those few brief days.
Despite his slightly disheveled appearance, the stubble upon his chin and the exhaustion still evident about his eyes and mouth—a tiredness he said her disappearance was responsible for—he was now every inch the austere, haughty, and aristocratic Duke of Weston she had first met a week ago.
“You seem to have the wrong impression about me,” he drawled as he entered the kitchen more fully but made no effort to sit down at one of the two places laid on the table scarred by long years of use.
She arched her brows. “Do I?”
His lips thinned. “I was in Wellington’s army for several years, and the conditions then were not particularly lavish with comfort either.”
“You are likening the school to a battlefield?” Sophia mocked as she placed the steaming bowls of stew on the table, along with a freshly baked and sliced loaf of bread. There was only a jug of water for them to drink with their meal, Sophia keeping no alcohol in the school.
Magnus waited for her to be seated until taking the chair opposite her. “It has felt much like it since I arrived, yes.”
Sophia felt the warmth in her cheeks at the rebuke. “Perhaps if you were not so bloody arrogant and chose to take matters into your hands that are none of your business, it would not feel that way!”
Magnus closed his eyes and drew in several deep breaths before replying sharply, “I suggest that, if you wish to have this conversation, we wait until we have both eaten.” His gaze swept over her critically. “Your sojourn in Portsmouth does not seem to have been any more beneficial to you than it has to me.”
Sophia fell silent, feeling Magnus’s rebuke to the tips of her toes. As she accepted that, whatever the reason for her flight from London, she did seem to be responsible for Magnus’s present exhaustion and strain after his having searched for her and then followed her here. She was also aware she had lost weight these past few days, the blue gown she wore this evening no longer fitting her as it once had, her face appearing very pale in the mirror earlier when she tidied her appearance before dinner.
“This is very good,” Magnus murmured his approval after his first spoonful of stew. “I am at least attempting to be polite, Sophia,” he cautioned as she would have spoken sharply.
Sophia’s gaze returned guiltily to her own bowl of food, for which she now had little appetite, but she knew she really did need to eat. Three days with only cups of tea and dried fruits to sustain her had taken its toll on her spirit as well as her figure.
The kitchen fell into silence apart from the noise of their spoons scraping against the bowls as they ate.
Sophia did feel slightly better with the hot food inside her. “Would you care for some more?” she offered once Magnus’s bowl was empty.
“No. Thank you.” His gaze was guarded as he rose to his feet to remove the empty bowls from the table and place them in the sink before pouring in some cold water from the jug and hot water from the kettle off the range.
Sophia was so bemused at watching the arrogant duke actually intending to wash their bowls, it took several seconds to rouse herself into speech. “There is no need for you to do that.” She stood with the intention of taking over the menial task.
“You prepared the meal. I am perfectly capable of washing the two bowls in which we ate it.” Magnus’s broad body blocked her from taking his place in front of the sink.
“You are a duke—”
“And you, as you so rightly said, were my lover!” Something seemed to have shifted inside Magnus, and he felt his control slipping as he turned to confront Sophia. “But lovers do not treat each other in the way you have treated me.” He took a tight grasp of the tops of her arms. “They do not look at each other with the coldness with which you have looked at me today. They do not talk to each other with the contempt you have shown me since my arrival here.” The last of his control snapped, and he claimed her slightly parted lips, as all the pent-up worry of these past three days while he searched for her now turned to red-hot passion.
There was none of their previous care and consideration as they pulled each other’s clothes off. Feverish hands quickly discarding those garments until they were both completely naked and Magnus took Sophia to the floor amidst that bundle of ripped clothing. His mouth once again possessed hers as he thrust inside her wet channel in one smooth glide. Quickly followed by another and then another, Sophia’s fingers scoring down Magnus’s back as her h
ips arched up to meet each of those claiming thrusts.
Magnus pulled his mouth from hers. “Come for me,” he instructed as his teeth bit down into the creamy flesh between her neck and shoulder. “Fucking come for me!” He thrust harder, deeper, faster, wilder to the wet and erotic sounds of their two bodies frantically joining.
Sophia shattered into a myriad of overwhelming pleasure and a rainbow of colors that both wrecked and blinded her.
“Again,” he demanded.
That pleasure exploded inside her as it ripped through Sophia’s body a second time.
Still Magnus continued to pound inside her, seeming to want to be deeper still, to force his body into hers until he possessed her totally.
Sophia was launched into yet another shattering climax as his cockhead hit her cervix, accompanied by the hot pulsing of Magnus’s release deep inside her.
“Dear God…” he finally groaned, his face buried against her throat as he took the majority of his weight on his elbows rather than crush her beneath his much larger bulk.
“Do not apologize!” Sophia knew she truly would shatter apart if Magnus attempted to in any way negate the wildness which had just occurred between the two of them. She felt completely owned by Magnus. As she, if only for these few minutes, completely owned him.
“You must be uncomfortable,” he murmured long minutes later.
The cold from flagstones beneath her back was seeping through the thin barrier of their discarded clothing. Her parted legs felt stretched to the breaking point to accommodate Magnus’s hips and thighs. His release slipped down her thighs and bottom, although it had done little to deflate the thickness and length of his cock buried deep inside her.
Sophia had never felt more “comfortable” in her life. As if this was truly where she was meant to be. Claimed by Magnus. A part of Magnus.
Craving (Regency Lovers 3) Page 11