“Can you tell me how you came to be a slave?”
He already knew most of this, but he wanted her to tell him of her own accord.
“Of course. Stephen Mallory is my father’s chief rival and has been jealous of him for years. He called on Father when I wasn’t home. I don’t know what started the quarrel, but I walked in on them just as Mallory stabbed him and he fell to the ground, motionless. I knew instantly my father was dead. I started to scream, I think, and remember rushing at the monster. The next thing I knew I woke up with a dreadful headache in a small cabin on a filthy ship. My captor was the slave trader you saw at the auction when he led me in. I tried not eating or drinking, but they’d force me to take in enough to stay alive. Come to think of it, I’ve never had such a nice thin figure, so it wasn’t all bad.”
He struggled with a blazing anger that left him incoherent. This beautiful, brilliant and innocent girl, subjected to weeks of despair and degradation, all for the ambition of one miserable bastard. A bastard who’d pay to the fullest. Lars would see to it personally.
He’d known it was something like that, and there was only one path for him to take. Now he needed to track down a murderer. Who was also a depraved pimp of the worst kind.
He shut his eyes to concentrate on his self-control and only opened them when he felt a soft hand pat his face.
“Lars, don’t look so. It’s over, thanks to you. I’ll be forever grateful for your kindness.”
Lars opened his eyes, seeing her beautiful eyes showing deep concern for him, with no trace of pity for herself. He grabbed her to him, taking her lovely face in his hands and kissing her as he’d long wanted to do. Not as the father-figure he feared she was beginning to think him, but as a lover in almost frantic haste to claim his love. A lover bent on taking some of the pleasure she alone could give him, while showing her how deeply he felt.
He cupped his hands around her expectant face, glorying as she looked at his with wide eyes, not knowing what came next but not at all reluctant to find out. He almost groaned aloud with the knowledge he’d be the first to touch her in the secret places that could yield her pleasure she’d not imagined. He’d be the first to see her quivering as she neared her woman’s ecstasy, as he caressed every beautiful curve and then touched her in her most intimate places. He’d neglect no part of her body, not her perfectly formed arms, not her lovely legs, not even the tips of her toes. And then he’d enter her and take her to a paradise she’d never imagined.
Her eyes flared, he hoped with pleasure as well as surprise, and she leaned into his kiss. Inexpertly, as he’d suspected. Trying to match his movements but knowing none of her own. Had all the men surrounding her father been blind? Or hadn’t she even seen the glances she must have attracted wherever she went?
He kissed her one last lingering time and took her reluctant arms from around his neck. Holding her hands and smiling at her expression of disappointment, he kissed her fingers.
“Sophia, you are pure delight. There’s nothing in this world I’d like better than to continue this to its enchanting end.”
“Then why don’t you, Lars? I much liked what you were doing. I’ve never had this kind of feeling. It makes me feel all shaky but as if I again have a place where I belong.”
Her throaty voice and heated eyes nearly broke him. His rigid erection grew even harder at her words. A feat he would have thought impossible, considering the state he was already in. If he’d been naked his cock would surely reach his stomach.
“Sophia, I want you as much as any man ever wanted any woman, but I’ll not have you give yourself to me out of gratitude.”
She traced her fingers over his lips, slowly and with a sensuousness that nearly shattered him. “I don’t think what I’m feeling is gratitude, Lars. No, I’m sure it isn’t.”
Her serious look made him again wonder if he possessed the strength to walk away.
“You’re influenced by the unusual sexual rapport we undoubtedly have. I thank the gods for it, but I don’t think you realize how unusual it is. But even that’s not enough. Your emotions are doubtless rampant now in the euphoria of your escape. You’re a virgin. This is all new to you. I won’t take your innocence from you in a moment of lust, no matter how strong my desire.”
She said nothing for a while. Nothing to give him hope, but nothing to send him into despair. She simply stared at him, and then finally held out her hand.
“May we now go on deck? I’ll gladly wrap a blanket around me in exchange for fresh air.”
Lars handed her the blanket and watched as she carefully covered all her delicious curves. When her beauty was as concealed as possible, he went to the cabin door and held it open. Still her pale gold hair streamed down her back and he hated to send her back to bind it. Sophia marched through like a queen. Grinning, Lars followed her as she left the cabin. Keeping the blanket from slipping obviously was giving her difficulty, so he ducked into his cabin, got two of his ties and handed them to her. The last thing he wanted right then was his men realizing her true beauty.
She thanked him with a regal nod and a smile that made him long to yank her back to the cabin. She paused long enough to knot the ties together to use as a belt and then proceeded on her royal march.
Still grinning, he followed her. Her back was as straight as a board. He pitied the poor sailor who made a lewd remark when she appeared on deck.
* * * * *
There were no lewd remarks, but plenty of lascivious glances. Every man on board seemed to be eyeing her. Several men started toward them, but Lars froze them in their place with an icy glare. He moved beside her and took her hand, tucking it in his bent arm.
“Will you walk around the deck with me, my sweet lady? I’d like to show you how well my crew takes care of the yacht.”
He spoke loudly enough that all on deck could hear him. He noticed Sophia’s little smile, and let his eyes lose some of the glare he’d directed at his men. Every man on deck understood he was declaring this girl as his special interest, and almost all of them turned back to their tasks. Only one, a hulk of a dark-bearded man, kept his eyes on Lars and Sophia as they started their promenade. Lars noted him and shot him a warning glance that caused him to lower his eyes.
Lars was proud of his ship, and so he pointed out the mahogany decks, the shining brass rails, all the fine touches meaning so much to him. Sophia listened attentively, asking questions whenever he paused. Finally he realized he’d been doing almost all the talking.
The day was mild, and the waves cresting in their wake were snow-tipped but gentle. The sun had already lost its desert heat and shone brilliantly as it neared its zenith. As lovely a day at sea as he could remember, but Lars was interested only in the girl on his arm.
He patted her hand and smiled down at her.
“Forgive me for being so boring. Tell me about your name. Sophia is a beautiful name, but why did your parents choose it? It has a French ring to it. Or maybe Italian?”
“You’re very clever, aren’t you, Lars?” Her great eyes stared into his, but he could read little in them beyond curiosity. Well, perhaps a tiny flare in the back of her eyes, but it would be unwise to keep staring at her with all his men watching.
“Not so clever,” he said. “But I would like to know every bit about you.”
She shrugged. “There is a little story to my name, but I’m not sure if it’s interesting to you. Did you ever hear of Sophia Germain?”
He thought a moment. “I believe I have. She worked with numbers theory, as I recall, and is regarded as a true mathematical genius. But I thought her name was Sophie.”
“Ah, there’s the rub. She was known by both, but my father was adamant about Sophia, and I prefer Sophie. I’m named after her though.”
He stopped and kissed her forehead. Everything she did was irresistible. Let his crew gawk all they wanted. He’d make it plain this girl was his, and therefore inviolate.
“Then I shall call you Sophie, unless we’re
at some grand occasion that calls for Sophia. She died earlier this century, I believe. I don’t know much else about her.”
Sophie grinned up at him. “Have you visited the Eiffel Tower?”
“Of course.” Lars was puzzled at the switch of topic.
Sophie gave a crow of laughter. “Sophia’s theory of elasticity is what enabled it to be built. We women are not stupid, you know.”
Lars gave her a little shake. “You have no call to accuse me of making such an assumption, my dear. Now let us resume our tour. You’ve seen the masts and the sails and the deck my crew keep so well polished. Would you like to go below again and see the steam engines?”
He wanted to get her below and out of sight of the crew. He didn’t like the way that one big deckhand stared at her. He’d best keep an eye on him. Damn, he’d thought that blanket protection enough. He should have known her face and hair would attract any male on earth. How the hell had her father kept such a gorgeous treasure under wraps?
* * * * *
Lars walked her back to his cabin, showed her where he kept some books under his bed and left her already engrossed in one. The book described a complicated method of navigation, but he guessed she was the type who enjoyed reading anything. He resumed thinking furiously how best to protect her. His plans about dressing her in the cabin boy’s clothes seemed riskier than he’d expected. If the men couldn’t take their eyes off her when she was draped in a blanket, he hated to think of their reaction to seeing the curves he imagined a boy’s pants would emphasize. They’d walked past the small-sized clothes pinned to a cord and flapping in the brisk breeze. Perhaps he’d see if they were dry and take them to her. And then they’d decide.
The garments were dry, and he slung them over his arm and started below. A sudden strong gust of wind changed his mind, so he decided to stop by the engine room and see if the ship should unfurl sails and take advantage of the wind’s power.
Finding Captain Stevens already issuing orders, he watched a moment, then complimented him and left. Grinning, he imagined Sophie in the boy’s pants. At least she could be comfortable in the cabin, but he knew with certainty she’d still need the blanket if she went on deck.
Going down the steps, he heard a muffled scream. Tossing down the clothes, he rushed toward Sophie’s cabin, drawing his dagger as he ran at his elf’s speed and threw open the door.
The black-haired man hulked over her and pinned her against the wall, the blanket tossed away. His beefy hands clutched her throat and his body thrust in lewd rhythm against hers as he sought to subdue her. Lars didn’t need to call on any of his elfin powers. Furious, he put one hand on the brute’s shoulder, twirled him around and slammed his fist into first his chin, and then his stomach. With only a grunt the brute slumped to the floor.
Lars turned to Sophie and held out his arms. Her eyes were wide with shock, but as Lars silently enfolded her and held her close, he felt her gulp for air, and then draw a jagged sigh. He kept his arms around her, kissing her hair but saying nothing until he felt her shaking quiet.
“Did you kill him?” She raised her face and Lars almost laughed at her hopeful expression.
“Not yet. If he makes a move toward you again I doubtless will. I’ve put him to sleep for now, but I’ll see he’s kept tied and guarded until we reach Dover. I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t remind you to lock the door. I never dreamed a member of my crew would be so wicked.”
“Is he a new crew member then?”
Lars stared at her. “You know, I think he is. I don’t remember seeing him before. I’ll question him as soon as being tied and helpless makes him feel cooperative. We must have taken him on in Constantinople. I don’t like the implications of this at all.”
“Don’t go yet, Lars. Hold me a little longer.”
She was still shaking in his arms and he set her gently in the chair, covering her again with the blanket.
“Let me call for some men to come get this piece of vermin and see he’s secured. Then I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
He stuck his head outside the door and shouted in a commanding voice. Two of the crew immediately clattered down the steps. In a few minutes the cabin was cleared of the big sailor, and Lars turned to Sophie and held out his arms again.
Always in a state of partial erection when near her, Lars felt his unruly cock swell as she rushed and clung to him. He held her—indeed, how could he not?—but he did try to angle his lower body a little away from hers.
“Hold me closer, Lars. Please.”
With a groan, he backed her against the desk and held her hips against him, kissing her face with half-leashed passion.
“This is not nearly as close as I would be, Sophie.”
It was all he could do not to strip her of that ridiculous shirt and take her against the desk.
“Lars,” she breathed. “Please.” Her sultry tones showed no fear, no disapproval, merely a willingness to follow wherever he’d lead her. Her voice was husky and inviting, and he summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed.
Holding her slightly away from him, he kissed her hair and then stepped back several paces. Still the scent of her beckoned to him, the clean fragrant smell of a desirable woman, mingled with an aroma of sexual desire that sent his hopes soaring. He’d no perfume to offer her and she needed none. He thought he’d know her in the dark for the rest of his life. Sophie and the scent that would always lure him to her arms.
“You’re feeling the aftermath of being in danger once again, love, and this time due to my carelessness. I can’t take advantage of that feeling.”
“I think this attraction to you is more than a result of my fearing that wicked man. Why do you denigrate how I feel?”
This time his groan seemed to originate in his boots.
“I know how danger brings forth emotions that might be temporary. Get some rest, Sophie. I’ll not leave you alone again, but I’ll not take your virginity when you’re emotionally off-balance.”
He turned away from her and, grabbing the cast-aside blanket, settled himself in the only chair in the cabin. A chair drawn up to a desk, but still comfortable looking, with wide arm rests and a well-cushioned back. He didn’t intend to leave her. He knew he’d find little comfort this night. His swollen cock showed no signs of diminishing, even though he no longer held her in his arms. Still, there was nothing to be done in this deplorable mess except what he was doing. Dear god in heaven, why had a fit of nobility struck him just now?
He must guard her, and control himself while she got some much-needed rest. Throttle the unruly emotions making him throb with desire for her even if he stayed awake all night with a rampant cock.
She started to speak, and then stopped. Slowly, she turned from him, her expression so blank he’d no idea what she was thinking. If he only could persuade himself he’d probe her mind, but she’d become too dear to him to ever do that again. He could no longer invade her privacy. Still not speaking, she walked to the bed and, lying on it, pulled the cover over her and turned her face from him.
Surely this was for the best. Now she would be free to start a new life. All her future was ahead of her, and she should not be tied to anyone because of gratitude.
But damn, if she left him his world would be a desolate void.
He tried to get comfortable in the wretched chair, but not even discomfort could stop his longing. He sighed and resigned himself to a miserable night.
Wanting Sophie, knowing she was willing, and yet unable to convince himself to have her. He couldn’t imagine a purgatory worse than this.
His rebellious body refused to obey him, and he groaned softly.
Chapter Three
Lars finally fell into a fitful and uncomfortable sleep. Even so, he dreamed of Sophie, his beautiful Sophie. He’d fidgeted in the chair for hours after she’d fallen asleep, finally reaching one unalterable conclusion. He’d not let her go without trying to convince her they belonged together. Whether it seemed to be taking adva
ntage or her or not, he knew he must tell her how much he cared for her. His brave, beautiful, brilliant girl.
He woke with a start, not sure of what had roused him.
A light kiss lingered on his forehead. The dim light of pre-dawn showed him a willowy figure. Sophie, dressed only in his shirt, stood in front of him. Her hair streamed down her back in an array of glory, and he thought she must have brushed it before waking him. Her bare legs were perfect in shape, although the light was too dim to admire her skin. He’d already locked her in his arms and knew her body’s softness.
He straightened to a better posture, ignoring the ache in his abused back.
“Sophie my dear. Has something frightened you?”
“Not exactly.” Her voice quavered and he narrowed his now-alert eyes.
He started to rise, but she held out a hand to stop him.
“No, don’t move yet. I have something to ask you and it’s easier if you don’t touch me.”
He reached out one hand to grab her to him, but she took a step backward. She let out a deep breath and rushed through her request.
“Lars, would you please rid me of my virginity?”
He knew he was staring, and he tried to regain control of his rampant body. Blessed angels, but his cock had softened somewhat only a short time ago. Now it grew hard and throbbing at her provocative words. Why was she doing this to him?
She gave a half-sob. “Please, Lars. Now.”
Stunned, he swallowed a groan. Did she have any idea at all of what she was doing to him? Hell, with the iron state of his erection he could take her ten times straight and not be satisfied.
“Sophie. My darling Sophie. What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”
“Don’t you want me, Lars? If you don’t…” She didn’t finish because he’d sprung to his feet and wrapped her in a tight embrace.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you, proud and defiant in that hellish slave market. But I need to know why you’re asking this. I can hardly think, my desire for you is so strong, but I also need to protect you. Surely you see I can’t protect you and violate you at the same time.”
Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) Page 4