by Amanda Quick
“Question them. Dear God. Question them.”
“Very subtly, of course.”
“Of course.” Julian shook his head in disbelief. “Sophy, allow me to inform you that your talent for subtlety and deliberate subterfuge is akin to that of my skill for embroidery. Furthermore, the three men on that list are out-and-out bastards—rakehells of the worst sort. They cheat at cards, seduce any woman who falls into their path, and have a sense of honor that is lower than that of a mongrel dog. In fact, it would be safe to say the dog’s notion of honor would be infinitely more acceptable. And you thought to interrogate these three?”
“I intend to use deductive logic to determine which of them is guilty.”
“Any one of the three would slice you to ribbons without a moment’s hesitation. He would ruin you long before you could ruin him.” Julian’s voice was tight with fury.
Sophy’s chin came up. “I do not see how he could do that as long as I am careful.”
“Lord, give me strength,” Julian said through his teeth. “I am dealing with a mad woman.”
What was left of Sophy’s self-control snapped. She leaped to her feet, her hand sweeping out to snatch the nearest hard object. Her fingers closed around the crystal swan on her dressing table.
“Damn you, Julian, I am not a mad woman. Elizabeth was a mad woman but I am not. I may be silly and stupid and naive in your view, but at least I am not mad. By God, my lord, I will force you to stop confusing me with your first wife if it is the last thing I accomplish on this earth.”
She hurled the ornament at him with all her strength. Julian, who had started to rise at the beginning of her tirade, barely managed to dodge the small missile. It flew past his shoulder and crashed against the wall behind him. He ignored the impact and crossed the room in three long strides.
“Have no fear, madam,” he said fiercely as he swept Sophy off her feet and into his arms. “I am in no danger of confusing you with Elizabeth. It would be a complete impossibility. You are, believe me, Sophy, totally and completely unique. You are a paradox in so many ways it defies description. And you are quite right. You are not mad. I am the one who is fast becoming a candidate for Bedlam.”
He strode toward the bed and dumped her unceremoniously down onto the counterpane. As she bounced there, her hair tumbling free of its moorings, he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to yank off his boots.
Sophy was incensed. “What do you think you are doing?”
“What does it look like I am doing? I am seeking the only cure I can find for my affliction.” He stood up and unfastened his breeches.
She gazed at him in shock as his heavy manhood sprang free. He was already fully, magnificently erect. Belatedly she gathered her confused senses and started to wriggle off the other side of the bed.
Julian reached over quite casually and wrapped one big hand around her wrist, effectively halting her retreat. “No, madam, you are not leaving just yet.”
“You cannot mean to … to bed me now, Julian,” Sophy said angrily. “We are in the midst of an argument.”
“There is no point arguing with you further. You are beyond reason. And so am I, it seems. Therefore I think we shall try a different means of terminating this unpleasant discussion. If nothing else is achieved, I might at least obtain some temporary peace.”
SIXTEEN
Sophy watched, torn between love and a seething anger, as the last of Julian’s clothes hit the floor. He kept his grip on her wrist as he finished the process of undressing himself and then he tumbled her down onto her back.
Naked, he loomed over her, caging her between his strong hands. His eyes gleamed and his hard face was set in the stark lines of masculine arousal.
“I will tell you this once more and once more only,” he said as he began the process of removing her clothing. “I have never mistaken you for Elizabeth. Calling you a mad woman was a figure of speech, nothing else. I meant no real insult. But it is imperative that you understand I cannot allow you to seek your own vengeance.”
“You cannot stop me, my lord.”
“Yes, Sophy,” he muttered as he tugged her gown off, “I can and I will. Although I understand very well why you’re skeptical on that point. Thus far I have given you little reason to believe me capable of fulfilling all my duties as your husband. You have cut a blazing swath through town, have you not? And poor, blundering creature that I am, I always seem to be following about ten paces behind, desperately trying to catch you. But this mad dashing about is at an end, my dear.”
“Are you threatening me, Julian?”
“Not at all. I am merely explaining that you have finally gone too far. But you needn’t worry. You have my word that I will do whatever it takes to protect you.” He untied the tapes of her pleated cambric chemisette.
“I do not need your protection, my lord. I have learned my lesson well. Husbands and wives of the ton are supposed to go their own ways. You are not to involve yourself in my life, nor I in yours. I have told you I am willing to live by the codes of so-called polite Society.”
“That is nonsense and you know it. God knows there is no way I could ignore you, even if I wished to do so.” He finished removing the last of her clothing, and paused to sweep the length of her with his heated gaze. “And, my sweet Sophy, I have no wish to ignore you.”
She felt the passionate hunger in him and the answering response in herself and knew that he was right. In bed, at least, neither of them could possibly ignore the other. A sudden suspicion came to her as his hand smoothed the curve of her thigh.
“You would not beat me,” she said slowly.
“No?” He smiled, a brief, flashing, wickedly male smile that was as sensual as the movements of his hands on her body. “Beating you might be interesting.” He gently squeezed her buttock.
Sophy felt herself warming quickly under his touch and shook her head with grave certainty. “No. You are not the type to lose control over your emotions and resort to violence against a woman. I told Lord Waycott as much when he claimed you had beaten your first wife.”
Julian’s captivating smile vanished. “Sophy, I do not wish to discuss either Waycott or my first wife just now.” He lowered his head to close his teeth gently around one taut nipple. His fingertips brushed the tawny fleece below the gentle swell of her stomach.
“But while I am certain you would not use a crop on me,” Sophy continued breathlessly as she felt his finger part her with great care, “it occurs to me that you might not be above using other means to … to ensure I do your bidding.”
“You may be right,” Julian conceded, apparently unconcerned by her logic. He kissed her throat, the curve of her shoulder and finally her lips. He lingered over her mouth a long while until she was moaning softly and clinging to him. Then he raised his head slightly to meet her eyes. “Are you worried about the tactics I might use to convince you to follow my advice, my sweet?”
She glared up at him, struggling to think clearly while her body concentrated only on the pleasure it was receiving at his hands. “Do not think you can control me in this fashion, my lord.”
“What fashion?” He slipped two fingers deeply into her and separated those two fingers very slowly, opening her completely.
Sophy gasped and felt herself tighten with excitement. “This fashion.”
“Never. I would not presume to believe that I am such a skillful lover that I could actually convince you to abandon all your fine principles for me.” He withdrew his fingers with excruciating slowness. “Ah, sweetheart. You flow like warm honey for me.”
“Julian?”
“Look at me,” he whispered. “Look at how hard and ready I am for you. Did you know that the mere scent of you is enough to arouse me like this? Touch me.”
She sighed with longing, unable to resist his sensual plea. When her fingers curled gently around his thick shaft she felt him pulse in reaction. She nuzzled his chest. “I still do not think this is a proper way to settle our diff
erences, my lord.”
He sat up and put his hands around her waist. “No more conversation, Sophy. We will talk later.” He lifted her up and held her so that she knelt, facing him. “Spread your legs and mount me, sweetheart. Ride me. I will be your stallion and you will be the one who controls the passion in both of us.”
Sophy clung to his shoulders, her eyes widening as she adjusted to the new position. She braced herself as she felt his manhood brush her softness. She liked this position, she decided. It was exciting to be on top. “Yes, Julian. Oh, yes, please.”
“Take as much or as little as you wish. Take it as quickly or as slowly as you wish. I am at your command.”
An exuberant thrill coursed through Sophy as she realized that it was up to her to set the pace. She lowered herself carefully over his thrusting hardness, savoring the slow penetration. She heard his deep, muffled groan of desire and her hands tightened on his shoulders.
“Julian.”
“You are so lovely in your passion,” he whispered tightly. “Soft and flushed and so willing to give me everything.” He covered her throat with damp, warm kisses as she continued to lower herself until he filled her completely.
Sophy waited a moment, letting her body accept him, feeling herself tightening around him. Then, cautiously at first, she began to move.
“Yes, my sweet lady. Oh, God, yes.”
She felt Julian swelling within her, felt herself growing unbearably taut. She clutched at him, her nails raking his shoulders and her eyes closed with the delicious tension. She concentrated only on finding the perfect rhythm that would unleash the wild, soaring release. Nothing else mattered in that moment but the joy of taking her own pleasure while she pleasured Julian. She felt infinitely powerful, brimful of a woman’s unique strength.
“Tell me of your love, sweetheart. Say the words.” Julian’s voice was soft and coaxing and urgent. “I need the words. It has been too long since you said them. You give me so much, little one, can you not give me a few simple words? I will treasure them forever.”
A tight, hot tingling sensation began to uncoil within Sophy. She was beyond reason, beyond thought, beyond everything but her own emotions. The words he sought were ready on her lips.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you with all my heart. Julian.”
She convulsed softly around him, the small tremors of her climax rippling outward, sweeping her away on a golden tide. In the distance she heard Julian’s answering growl of response, felt the sudden rigidity of the bunched muscles in his shoulders and, finally, the shattering power of his own release.
For a moment they hung suspended in a timeless realm where nothing could interfere with the pure intimacy of their union. And then, with a low, satisfied groan, Julian sprawled back onto the pillows, bringing Sophy down across his chest.
“Do not ever again think that I could possibly confuse you with Elizabeth,” he said without opening his eyes. “With her there was no peace, no satisfaction and no joy to be found under any circumstances. Not even … never mind. It’s no longer important. But believe me when I say she gave nothing of herself. She took everything and then demanded more. But you give yourself so completely, my sweet. It is a special kind of enchantment. I do not think you can even imagine how good it feels to be on the receiving end of your generosity.”
It was the most he had ever said on the subject of his first wife. Sophy decided that she did not really want to hear any more. Julian was hers now. They were bound together. And if what she had begun to suspect this past week were true, she even now held a part of him within her.
Sophy stirred, crossed her arms on his chest and looked down at him. “I am sorry I threw the swan at you.”
He opened one eye at that and then grinned up at her. “I am certain that in the years ahead there will be other times when you will be obliged to remind me that you do, indeed, possess a woman’s temper.”
Sophy widened her eyes innocently. “I would not want you to ever grow complacent, my lord.”
“I am sure you will save me from such a fate.” He laced his fingers through her hair and pulled her face close to his. He took her mouth in a brief, rough kiss and then freed her. His eyes grew serious. “Now, then, madam, as we are both in a calmer state of mind, just as I predicted, it is time to conclude the discussion we began earlier.”
A great deal of Sophy’s languid pleasure vanished as reality returned in a rush. “Julian, there is nothing more to be said on the subject. I must continue with my inquiries.”
“No,” he said quite gently. “I cannot permit you to do so. It is far too dangerous.”
“You cannot stop me.”
“I can and I will. I have made my decision. You will return to Ravenwood tomorrow.”
“I will not go back to Ravenwood.” Shocked and furious, Sophy pushed herself away from him and scrambled to the edge of the bed to retrieve her clothing. Clutching her gown in both hands, she faced him warily. “You tried once before to banish me to the country, my lord. It was not a successful effort then and I warn you it will not be successful this time.” Her voice rose. “Do you think I will surrender to your dictates just because of what transpires between us in bed?”
“No, although it would certainly make matters easier if you did.”
The calm in his voice was far more alarming than his earlier anger had been. It occurred to Sophy that her husband was at his most dangerous not when he was in a temper but when he was in this mood. She shielded herself behind her clothing and watched him uneasily. “My honor demands that I complete my task. I intend to find and punish the man who caused Amelia’s death. I thought you understood and accepted my feelings regarding honor, my lord. We had an agreement.”
“I do not deny your feelings on the subject but there is a problem because your sense of honor puts you in conflict with my own. My honor demands that I protect you.”
“I do not need your protection.”
“If you believe that, then you are more hopelessly naive than I had thought. Sophy, what you are doing is extremely dangerous and I cannot allow you to continue. That is all there is to it. You will tell your maid to begin packing at once. I will finish my business here in town and join you as soon as possible at Ravenwood Abbey. It is time we went home. I am weary of the city.”
“But I have barely begun my detecting work. And I am not at all weary of the city. In fact, I am learning to enjoy town life.”
Julian smiled. “That I can well believe. Your influence is showing up in all the best ballrooms and drawing rooms, madam. You have become a leader of fashion. Quite an accomplishment for a female who was a disaster during her first season.”
“Julian, do not try to put me off with flattery. This is a matter of the greatest importance to me.”
“I realize that. Why else would I risk making such an unpopular decision on your behalf? Believe me, I am not looking forward to having more table ornaments hurled at my head.”
“I will not go back to Hampshire, my lord, and that is final.” Sophy faced him with stubborn determination.
He sighed. “Then I shall undoubtedly soon be obliged to keep an appointment of my own at Leighton Field.”
Sophy was dumbfounded. “What are you saying, Julian?”
“That if you stay here in town, it is only a matter of time before I will find it necessary to defend your honor in the same way you once attempted to defend mine.”
She shook her head in wild denial. “No, no, that is not true. How can you suggest such a thing? I would never do anything to make it necessary for you to call out another man. I have told you that. You said you believed me.”
“You do not understand. It is not your word I would doubt, Sophy. It is the insult to you that I would be obliged to avenge. And make no mistake. If I allow you to play dangerous games with men like Utteridge and Varley and Ormiston, the insults will soon be made.”
“But I would not allow them to insult me. I would not put myself into such a
position, Julian. I swear to you I would not.”
He smiled fleetingly. “Sophy, I know you would not willingly do anything dishonorable or compromising. But these men are quite capable of manipulating events so that an innocent woman does not stand a chance. And once that had happened, I would have to demand satisfaction.”
“No. Never. You must not even suggest such a possibility. I cannot bear to think of you engaging in a duel.”
“The possibility already exists, Sophy. You have talked to Utteridge, have you not?”
“Yes, but I was most discreet. He could have had no notion of what I was trying to learn.”
“What did you talk about?” Julian pressed quietly. “Did you mention Elizabeth by any chance?”
“Just in passing, I swear it.”
“Then you will have aroused his curiosity. And that, my naive little innocent, is the first step toward disaster with a man of Utteridge’s character. By the time you have finished questioning Varley and Ormiston, I will be up to my neck in dawn appointments.”
Helplessly, Sophy stared at him. She recognized a trap when she saw one and this particular trap had no exit. She could not possibly allow Julian to risk his life in a duel over her honor. The very thought made her shudder with fear. “I promise you, I will be most extremely careful, my lord,” she tried weakly, but she knew the argument was useless.
“There is too much risk involved. The only intelligent course of action now is to get you out of town. I want you safe in the countryside with your friends and family.”
Sophy surrendered, tears burning in her eyes. “Very well, Julian. I will leave if you feel there is no other way. I would not have you risk a bullet because of my actions.”
Julian’s gaze softened. “Thank you, Sophy.” He reached out and caught a teardrop on the end of his finger. “I know it is a great deal to ask of a woman whose notion of honor is as strong as my own. Believe me when I say I do understand your desire for vengeance.”
Sophy impatiently wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “It is just so blasted unfair. Nothing is going the way I had thought it would when I agreed to marry you. Nothing. All my plans, all my dreams, all the things I hoped for, the things we contracted for between us. All has come to naught.”