by Connie Mason
“Come into the study,” Chris said. “We need to talk.”
“Indeed we do,” Sophia replied, preceding him into the chamber.
“Sit down, Sophia.”
“I prefer to stand, thank you.”
“As you please.” He paced away, then spun around. “I claimed you were my betrothed to save your reputation. Lord Chester heard about your confrontation with Rigby and actually believed what the innkeeper said about you. I set him straight, but in the process was forced to tell him you were my betrothed.”
Anger swamped Sophia. “Forced? You lied! Now you have to fix it.”
“There’s no fixing this, Sophia. I suppose we will have to marry. You have a choice. Either marry me or return to England. If we break this sham engagement, you will never find work here. You’re living in my home; therefore a wedding is expected. If you leave, your reputation will be in shreds.”
“Humph, it won’t be the first time. Besides, we both know you don’t want to marry me.”
Chris shrugged. “What I want is no longer important, it’s what people expect. Fate brought us together again, and we have to make the best of it.”
Sophia searched his face. “That doesn’t mean we have to marry. You don’t even like me.”
“Be that as it may, you are living in my home and I am responsible for you. We will wed, Sophia, sooner rather than later.”
Sophia couldn’t believe it. Did Chris actually think she would agree, knowing he didn’t want her? She couldn’t bear loving Chris, living with him, and not having her love returned. “No, Chris, I won’t marry a man who doesn’t want me.”
“Not want you? Oh, I want you, Sophia. Never doubt it. One night in your bed was scarcely enough.”
His words stunned Sophia, even if she didn’t believe him. A man wouldn’t leave her to languish in boredom if he wanted her. He wouldn’t ignore her or refuse to make small talk at the dinner table. He wouldn’t treat her with disdain and try to send her away.
Sophia wanted to believe Chris cared for her. Dear God, she wanted it desperately. She wanted to reach up and kiss him, wanted to feel his mouth moving on hers. She yearned for his touch, for his sweet caresses. She wanted him to make love to her again and really mean it.
Sophia licked her suddenly dry lips and gazed into his eyes. “Prove you want me, Chris.”
At first she didn’t think he would react. Then something seemed to snap inside him as he slid his hands into the dark strands of her hair and pulled her head back, crushing his mouth down on hers.
The kiss wasn’t gentle, but Sophia didn’t care. At least he was showing something for her besides apathy. He kissed her fiercely, plundering her mouth with his tongue, cupping her bottom and hauling her against him. She felt the swelling thickness of his sex beneath his trousers and suddenly recalled where they were.
She made a strangled sound of protest in her throat and tried to push him away. Reluctantly he broke off the kiss and held her away from him, his fingers digging into her shoulders.
“Can you still say I don’t want you?” he bit out. “Never doubt it, Sophia, I do want you and we will marry.”
Sophia couldn’t think, much less speak. Her lips felt swollen, her flesh bruised. She felt unbalanced, unfocused. She could only stare at him, mouth agape. Chris released her, spun on his heel and strode off.
Sophia had no idea what had just happened. Why did Chris want to marry her when he had told her countless times that he didn’t want her in his life? Why did he care about her reputation when he had helped ruin it?
Chris was angry at himself, but even angrier at Sophia. It was his fault for mentioning Sophia and marriage in the same breath to Lord Chester, but he wouldn’t be in this predicament if Sophia hadn’t stowed away aboard his ship.
He told himself that marrying Sophia didn’t mean he had to care about her. He had a plantation and a distillery to run, slaves to care for. Sophia wasn’t necessary to make his life or his happiness complete.
Chris entered his study and slammed the door. He sank into a chair and stared at the paperwork on his desk, unable to focus on the work at hand. He knew he was lying to himself. In one respect he did need Sophia. He needed her body next to his in bed, his arms around her. He needed her kisses. He went hard just thinking about making love to her. Would there ever be a time he wouldn’t want to be inside her?
Of one thing Chris was certain: He would never let Sophia know how badly he needed her. From this day forward, Chris promised himself, he would guard his heart and remain emotionally detached. If he didn’t, Sophia would wrap him around her little finger, just as she had seven years ago.
Several days elapsed without Chris mentioning marriage again to Sophia. In fact, he seemed even more remote than usual. She was so certain he had given up the idea that she decided to ask him to take her to town so she could inquire of Mr. Ludlow if he had received any replies to her inquiries about a governess post.
One night over dinner, Sophia told Chris, “I’d like to go into town tomorrow. Mundo could take me and Kateena in the wagon, if it’s all right with you.”
He seemed not to hear her.
“Chris—”
“I heard. I’ll take you to town myself. You need a new wardrobe. I won’t have it said that I’m miserly with my betrothed.”
Sophia gave a huff of exasperation. “I thought you realized that marriage between us is impossible.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Your actions speak for themselves. You barely acknowledge me, let alone talk to me.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he hedged.
“Are you still worried about a revolt?”
“That, among other things. You can see to your wardrobe in Kingston while I visit Headquarters House. I’m anxious to free my slaves before matters get worse than they already are. I’ve already lost four men. They ran off in the dead of night to join the Maroons in the mountains.”
“Are you going to report them missing?”
“No. They’ll be free soon and can do whatever they please. Can you be ready at nine tomorrow morning? You can ride one of my horses and Kateena can ride with Mundo in the wagon.”
“I’ll be ready,” Sophia said, “but I won’t accept your charity. You know I can never repay you for anything you buy me.”
“You’ll be my wife soon. I’m supposed to provide you with a suitable wardrobe. Why are you fighting the issue?”
“Why? Because marriage isn’t what you want from me.”
“That’s beside the point.” He rose. “It’s useless to argue about this, so you might as well resign yourself to our marriage. I have,” he added as he strode from the dining room.
Sophia wanted to throw something at him. The man was impossible. He was determined to have his way with or without her approval. No matter; Sophia had plans of her own. She was determined to find employment, no matter where in Jamaica she had to travel to find it.
The wagon was waiting when Sophia and Kateena walked out the front door the next morning. Kateena smiled shyly at Mundo and climbed in beside him. Chris arrived moments later, leading two horses. He seated Sophia atop a mild-mannered bay mare, then mounted his own coal-black Atlas.
“Mundo will drop you and Kateena off at the dressmaker’s shop and then continue on to the general store to pick up supplies. Let’s go,” Chris said as he reined his mount down the lane.
“Do you know the dressmaker’s location?” Sophia asked as she caught up with Chris.
“Kateena gave me directions earlier. The dressmaker’s name is Wanda. We should arrive thirty minutes or so ahead of the wagon.”
Sophia nodded and said nothing more. What could she say to a man as hardheaded as Chris? If she didn’t love him so much, she would wed him, but she couldn’t endure a loveless marriage.
When they reached Kingston, Chris led her down a narrow lane off King Street and reined in before a small shop with a simple sign that said “Dressmaker” hanging over th
e door. It was unpretentious in the extreme but welcoming with its blue-and-white-striped awning stretched across the front.
Chris dismounted and lifted Sophia down. He held the door open while she entered ahead of him. A tall, dark woman of indeterminate age greeted them at the door. She was dressed casually in a colorful island dress with a tignon covering her head.
“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked in a singsong voice that seemed to have a melody all its own.
“Are you Wanda?” Chris asked. When the woman nodded, he said, “I am Captain Radcliff and this is Miss Carlisle, my bride-to-be. Kateena from the King’s Arms recommended you. She said you were an excellent seamstress.”
Wanda smiled and bowed her head. “If your lady is in need of a dressmaker, I will do my best to please her.”
“My betrothed requires a complete wardrobe, including a wedding gown,” Chris replied. “She’ll need the wedding gown and half the initial order in two weeks. Can you manage that?”
Wanda’s sparkling black eyes exuded confidence. “I can indeed, Captain. I employ several free women of color and have taught them myself.”
“Very good. After we choose patterns and materials, I shall leave Miss Carlisle in your capable hands. Kateena will join her shortly.”
Sophia spent the next hour poring over patterns and materials with Chris, all in lightweight materials to accommodate the Jamaican climate. When Kateena joined them, she added her opinion when asked, but Chris seemed to know what he wanted to see Sophia wearing and chose styles that pleased him. Sophia voiced her preferences from time to time and tried to stop Chris at three gowns, but he ignored her.
Once six gowns had been commissioned, Chris said, “I’ll leave the choice of undergarments to your discretion, Sophia. Try to remember you’ll have little use for the numerous petticoats and steel corsets that are all the rage in England.” He turned to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have business to conduct at Headquarters House. Wait here until I return. We still have to find a shoemaker.”
The fittings were pure torture, despite the anticipated pleasure of having new clothes. Rayford had ordered the first new gown Sophia had had in years, prior to their return to London. Before that, she had turned hems, added ruffles, done anything to make an old gown look new. Since she had been rarely out and about in public, Rayford had seen no need to replenish her wardrobe.
When Wanda announced she had everything she required to begin her work, Sophia was relieved that Chris hadn’t yet returned. She would have a chance to visit Mr. Ludlow at the King’s Arms. She asked Wanda to tell Chris she would meet him at the inn and departed with Kateena in tow, leaving her horse behind for Chris to collect.
“The captain told you to wait for him at the dressmaker,” Kateena scolded.
“I need to speak to Mr. Ludlow, and this is my only chance.”
Kateena clucked her tongue but said nothing more.
“There’s Mr. Ludlow,” Sophia said as she approached the innkeeper.
“Miss Carlisle, how nice to see you again. I hear you’re to wed Captain Radcliff. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I wondered if you’ve heard anything further from families interested in hiring an English governess for their children.”
“Mistress!” Kateena gasped. “Why do you need to work? You are to marry the captain.”
“Can’t the captain provide for you?” Ludlow asked.
“My fiancée doesn’t need employment, and I can provide for her very well, thank you.”
Chris.
Sophia whipped around, paling when she saw the look on Chris’s face. He was furious. His brows were drawn together in a frown, his eyes narrowed.
“You were supposed to wait for me at the dressmaker’s,” Chris said, anger burning through him. He’d assumed Sophia had resigned herself to their marriage, so why was she asking about employment? Bloody hell! Didn’t she know he was trying to do the right thing? He had lost control and taken her virginity. Since there was nothing but an uncertain future for her in England, and he had ruined her, she had no choice but to marry him.
“I wanted to speak to Mr. Ludlow before returning to Sunset Hill,” Sophia replied.
“We’ll discuss this at home. If you wish, we can invite Ludlow to our wedding. Come—we still have to order footwear for you.”
“But—”
“Sophia,” he said roughly, “I said it’s time to leave.”
“Very well, if you insist.”
Chris felt ready to explode as he watched Sophia precede him out the door, head held high, shoulders proudly squared. Did the woman know no fear? Did she want Rigby to carry her off again? When Chris had seen Rigby leaving Headquarters House a short time ago, his heart had nearly thudded to a halt. He had concluded his business quickly and returned to the dressmaker. When he learned that Sophia had left against his orders, fear for her safety pierced through him.
Then, when he had walked into the inn and heard her asking about employment, fear turned to blinding rage. Despite her lack of options, Sophia didn’t want to marry him. She’d rather take her chances on a precarious future as a governess than become his wife. So much for all those pretty words she had whispered in his ear seven years ago. They had meant nothing . . . less than nothing, just as he had always known.
“Your horse is outside,” Chris growled. He nodded to Kateena. “So is the wagon.”
Kateena climbed onto the wagon beside Mundo while Chris lifted Sophia onto her horse, then mounted Atlas. Chris’s anger continued to simmer as they ordered slippers and boots at the cobbler’s shop and rode back to Sunset Hill.
When they reached the manor house, Chris spoke for the first time since leaving Kingston. “In my study. Now!” He stormed into the house, expecting her to follow.
“What is this about, Chris? Why are you so angry? I merely wanted to inquire if any replies to my request for employment had arrived.”
“Why are you dead set against our marriage?”
“Because it’s not what you want.”
“You never did love me, did you?”
She lowered her eyes. “Does it matter now?”
“It doesn’t matter at all.” Lies, all lies. Of course it mattered. He didn’t know why, but it did.
Sophia turned her back on him. “You needn’t marry me because you took my virginity. I can take care of myself. I don’t want a loveless marriage, Chris. What if we wed and have children? Will you love the children we have together?”
Chris grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You may already be carrying my child.”
He knew by the shock on Sophia’s face that she hadn’t thought of that. “It was just one time. I don’t think—”
“You don’t know. It’s very possible.”
His hands tightened on her shoulders, slid down her arms, grasped her hands and yanked her against him. Then his mouth slammed down on hers. He went hard the moment his lips touched hers. He had deliberately maintained his distance after he had relieved Sophia of her virginity, but abstinence had only sharpened his need for her. He could wait no longer. Sweeping her into his arms, he sank into a chair with her in his lap.
“What are you doing?” Sophia gasped.
“Making love to you. Help me lift your skirts out of the way.”
“Here? Now? In your study? Anyone could come in.”
Chris surged to his feet with her in his arms. “Very well.” He carried her though the door and up the stairs.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To your bedroom, if that meets with your approval.”
“Kateena will return soon.”
“We’ll lock the door. Protest all you want, Sophia, but I mean to have you.”
“Why?”
Chris didn’t know why. Even if he did, he wouldn’t tell her. What he did know was that he ached to be inside her, trembled with need for her. Because of his pride, he had denied himself too long. He would show Sophia that making love to her
meant no more to him than assuaging his body’s needs. That thought made him chuckle bitterly.
He was fooling no one but himself if he believed making love to Sophia meant nothing to him.
Chapter Nine
Sophia closed her eyes as Chris drew her into his arms and kissed her. Not a gentle, seductive kiss but a deep, soul-destroying kiss, an aggressive, ravishing kiss that curled her toes and filled her with need. Her knees went weak and she slid her arms around him to keep from melting into a heap at his feet.
“Tell me you want me,” Chris whispered against her lips.
Sophia shook her head. She wanted to deny her need for Chris, wanted him to believe she could resist him. To her utter dismay, when she opened her mouth to reject him, her lips said, “I want you.”
A deeper kiss followed, fierce, abandoned, possessive. She moaned a protest deep in her throat when he broke off the kiss. Dizzy from his sudden burst of passion, she faltered and would have fallen if he hadn’t reached out and steadied her.
“Take off your clothes,” he said raggedly.
She blinked. “What?”
“Why should we deny ourselves when this is what we both want?”
Sophia must have moved too slowly, for he brushed her hands aside and worked the buttons on the front of her gown. The material parted, exposing the soft swells of her breasts. He groaned as he cupped the firm mounds in his hands, teased and caressed them, stroked his thumbs across her nipples. The tips peaked and distended. The throbbing nearly drove Sophia mad with wanting. Her body was no longer hers as she pressed herself against him; it belonged to Chris, to do with as he wished.
His hands left her breasts, pushed her gown down her shoulders and slid it past her hips. It pooled at her feet in a colorful froth. Her chemise went next, and then her stockings and shoes. She swayed against him. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
He gazed down at her, his eyes dark, intense, hungry. Sophia raised her eyes to his and released a slow, shallow breath. A shiver ran through her. Never had a man looked at her like that. His face was stark with need, his eyes shadowed, enigmatic, haunted. Was he still plagued by guilt? Her mouth went dry as she watched him remove his clothing and boots