The Sheik's Son

by Nicola Italia

  She felt herself warm and wet between her legs and wanted him to pull her to him and do everything that wasn’t allowed. It was maddening. She knew this wasn’t right. She knew she should stop him. She wanted to stop him but didn’t.

  Sebastian could feel himself harden with desire. It was as if she had lit a flame inside him and only she would do. He didn’t want any other woman. Only this auburn haired beauty—this little witch—would do.

  She pushed away from him but he lightly pulled her arm back to him. “Sophie.”

  “I don’t want you. I don’t like you,” she told him as she brushed her fingers across her lips to remove any trace of him. Her face was flushed and her lips were bruised.

  “Don’t pretend there’s nothing between us.”

  “I’m a respectable woman. When the time comes I will marry. I’m not a dalliance for you to spend several hours a week with and then go on with your life.”

  He thought several hours a day would be more like it, but instead said, “You’re speaking of a mistress.”

  “Yes. That’s not me,” Sophie said. “Paris is many things, but it seems constancy isn’t one of them.”

  “Sophie—”

  “If that wasn’t enough, I don’t like the way you think about women. That we are only chattel and nothing more.”

  “I never said—”

  “You did last time we met. I understand men like the chase. I’m not to be chased. I will make certain that we are never alone again. I’m telling you. Find someone else. You’re wasting your time with me.”

  Sebastian watched her leave and realized something inside him was changing. He knew she felt something in his arms and he would have her. He wanted nothing more than to press her against the cloaks inside the room and feel her legs wrap around him.

  He could already hear her moan and sigh in his ear as he pressed himself inside her. He grabbed his great overcoat and pulled it on as he made his way outside. He had a visit to make.

  Chapter 8

  Sebastian moved over Juliette and slid in and out of her, setting a fast rhythm. She sighed and moaned but he was in another place. Her moans filled the air as she cried out again and again, even as he pumped deep inside her. She was tight and wet and he longed to fill her up, but not yet.

  When he took her on all fours he wrapped her long brown hair around his hand and pounded into her. He closed his eyes and saw the hair was auburn and the smooth bottom and thighs were Sophie’s.

  He climaxed so quickly he almost apologized. Later in the evening Juliette had wrapped her lips around him, and as she moved her mouth down the length of his shaft he thought again of Sophie. It was maddening. If he wasn’t such an educated man he might have believed he was bewitched.

  ***

  Alphonse walked alongside Sophie as Eugenie trailed behind them at a respectable distance. It was a lovely afternoon in the Jardin des Plantes. He was dressed in a pale brown jacket and breeches while Sophie wore a simple lemon-colored dress.

  Sophie was deep in thought as that evening she would dine with the Duke of Dorset. She knew that he would behave appropriately, but her thoughts returned again and again to Sebastian. She didn’t like that he could so easily sway her as he had in the cloakroom, and she didn’t like his thoughts on women. She knew she should not be attracted to such a man; she wanted an intelligent equal.

  She knew the Duke would be cordial at dinner and it would be an enjoyable evening. She thought wryly of her grandmother walking quietly behind them and wondered where the older woman had been last evening when she’d so sorely needed her. She wondered what her grandmother would do if she told her about the previous night. Would she faint or demand that Sebastian meet her at dawn with sabers? Knowing her grandmother, Sophie decided it would probably be the sabers.

  Alphonse had been talking about his desire to join the university and study law, but Sophie was barely paying attention to him.

  “And so I think I want to study the law,” he finished. “In Oxford.”

  “Oxford?” Sophie suddenly broke out of her reverie. “Surely Paris would do just as well.”

  “I want to see other places. I think some time in England would do me well,” Alphonse said quietly.

  “I will miss you, Alphonse.” She said it more out of duty than anything else. She liked Alphonse as a childhood friend but felt nothing more for him.

  “Will you, Sophie?”

  “Of course. You’re a dear friend.”

  His face fell and he understood completely. “And I you.”

  They continued walking side by side for a time and then parted ways. As Eugenie and Sophie walked back to their carriage, passing the greenery, the older woman shook her head.

  “He is to study in England,” she replied.

  “Yes, Grand-mère. The law.”

  “And he could have easily studied here and you would have been the wife of a—”

  “No.” Sophie shook her head. “Alphonse is a kind man, but he is not for me.”

  Eugenie knew better than to press her granddaughter for answers, but it vexed her that she’d already been married with one child at Sophie’s age.

  ***

  Sophie knew the dinner would include the duke and her grandmother, and not wanting to entice the duke in any way, she wore a purple-and-cream-striped dress with a square neckline and lace at the elbows. The petticoat revealed a simple purple hue with no design. It was a very becoming gown, but simplistic. She didn’t realize that while the color was feminine and the design was simple, it made the eye wander along the neckline and at her slim waist and breasts.

  Her grandmother wore a turquoise gown complete with a powdered wig and numerous pieces of jewelry adorning her hands and neck.

  Jean Pierre had wished them a good evening before he retired to the comfort and solitude of his library.

  After the carriage deposited them at the duke’s residence, the two women were ushered into the duke’s library, with champagne waiting for them.

  “I fear there are more guests than I originally planned, my dear,” he explained to Sophie, handing her and her grandmother each a glass of champagne.

  She noticed a lovely young woman with dark brown hair and a burgundy gown near the fireplace. The woman’s gown was in the same style as her own, and her hair was piled up high with a long curl hanging over her shoulder. She had blue eyes set in an oval face with plump lips. The man standing next to her was dark-haired as well and seemed almost under the young woman’s spell.

  “Forgive me, my dear,” he said to Sophie. “Allow me to introduce Madame Gauvreau, Mademoiselle Sophie, this is Etienne Pousson and Leila Fairfax.” He left for a moment so the group could become acquainted.

  “Let us move into the dining room, dinner is served,” Dorset exclaimed when he returned.

  In the dining room, Dorset took the head of the table while reserving the other head for Eugenie, who was extremely pleased at the gesture. He seated Etienne and Leila next to each other and Sophie across from them.

  He saw her glance at the empty chair and Leila explained, “My brother. He’s late.”

  Sophie smiled. “I see.”

  The servants began bringing in the first course of soup when the sixth guest joined them.

  “I apologize for my tardiness. The weather is atrocious, Dorset.”

  Dorset nodded. “You’re next to Mademoiselle Gauvreau.”

  Sophie turned to address the newcomer and almost lost her manners.

  “Mademoiselle.” Sebastian leaned over and kissed the back of her hand while Sophie closed her eyes in disbelief.

  “Monsieur Fairfax.” She tried to smile but he could tell it was forced. He was dressed elegantly in a dark purple coat, white shirt and royal blue breeches.

  Dorset agreed about the weather, then went on to complain about the London fog and Etienne nodded. “I must agree with you in that respect, sir.”

  Leila smiled as she placed her napkin in her lap and slipped her small foot out of its
shoe. She pressed her toe along Etienne’s ankle and then moved it alongside his calf. He choked on his soup.

  “Are you all right?” Eugenie asked, concerned.

  “Thank you, madame. I’m well.” He gulped down his wine and looked over at Leila. She was all innocence and smiles, but underneath he was certain she was a demon.

  He resumed eating his soup. Leila ate as well and left him alone.

  Platters of beef and veal were brought around for each person to take their fill. As Etienne reached to serve himself one of each he felt Leila’s slim fingers slide up his thigh.

  She saw him harden through his silk breeches and smiled. The little tease was torturing him on purpose.

  Eugenie mentioned the Handel concert that they had attended.

  “Did you enjoy the concert, mademoiselle?” Sebastian asked Sophie.

  “Yes, until the end. I had a ferocious headache. I’m not sure how that happened. Usually I quite enjoy musical entertainments.” Sophie eyed him purposefully.

  “I find most music loud and incites headaches,” Eugenie said.

  “There is another concert in a week, mademoiselle,” Dorset replied. “I would be honored if you were my guest.”

  Sophie was more than happy to agree and smiled.

  “Let’s make an evening of it,” Sebastian chimed in.

  Sebastian didn’t want Dorset alone with Sophie, knowing his reputation. Sophie inwardly groaned at the thought of yet another evening spent with the arrogant secretary.

  Plates of cold turkey, chicken and roasted rabbit were passed along by servants and Etienne watched Leila take her share. When he served himself he felt her slim hand move along his thigh, higher this time.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he whispered quietly in her ear.

  “I already burn,” she whispered back, her blue eyes glittering in the candlelight.

  “Delicious chicken,” Eugenie proclaimed, taking bite after bite.

  “Yes. I inherited the chef from the previous ambassador and she’s a wonder.” Dorset sipped his wine.

  “Oh, excuse me.” Etienne deliberately swiped his fork onto the floor. When he bent to retrieve it his hand slid up Leila’s silk-encased calf and knee before stopping. He could tell she was aroused and he smiled as he wiped his fork on his napkin and settled back into his chair. If she was going to tease him right underneath her brother’s eyes, then he would tease her right back.

  Fruit and custard was the final course, and coffee was served in large silver pots.

  “After dinner we’ll retire to the large salon. There’s a piano forte, in case any of the ladies would like to play,” Dorset proclaimed.

  Leila agreed to play for them and a small group of chairs were placed near the piano as Leila set about picking her music.

  “Fairfax, why don’t you show the ladies the gallery upstairs? Some absolutely stunning paintings,” Dorset said.

  “I’ll decline if you don’t mind, monsieur. That dinner was a quite a feast,” Eugenie claimed. “I think I’ll rest a bit.”

  “I’ll keep my grandmother company,” Sophie said.

  “Nonsense, my dear,” Eugenie exclaimed. “I know you enjoy art.”

  “Oh come, mademoiselle. It is only one flight of stairs. Surely that won’t fatigue you,” Sebastian teased. He enjoyed watching Sophie struggle to retain her composure.

  Sophie clenched her teeth as she watched her grandmother settle onto the couch while Leila looked for the perfect sheet of music to perform. Dorset and Etienne were helping themselves to brandy and no one seemed at all concerned about the couple disappearing.

  “Certainly,” she said with a smile, following Sebastian out into the hallway and closing the door behind them.

  Once they were alone, Sophie’s smile disappeared.

  “Alone again,” he said, reminding her of when she had said she would never be caught in such a situation again.

  “If you would behave as a gentleman should, I would have no fear of being alone with you,” came Sophie’s tart reply.

  “I don’t know you well at all, Mademoiselle Sophie. But I doubt you fear much and I absolutely am certain you don’t fear me,” Sebastian returned.

  Sophie eyed the handsome man before her. He was wrong. She did fear him. She feared what she felt in his arms and she didn’t like losing herself when she was with him. He clouded her thoughts and it was upsetting to her.

  “It is upstairs,” he directed following her up the great curving staircase and admiring the view as he went. The second floor was dominated by a long hallway filled with paintings on both sides of the walls.

  Though the hallway was decorated with artworks of all shapes and sizes, Sebastian directed her further, saying, “First door on your right.”

  She entered a large room and saw a fireplace burning low inside the dark room, which was dominated by a large four-poster bed.

  “’No’ means nothing at all to you, does it?” Sophie turned to him, outraged at his suggestion. “Should I pull up my skirts and we have at it?”

  He almost laughed, and would have if the vision of Sophie half naked before him didn’t almost send him over the edge of actually doing what she suggested. He could imagine flinging her onto the bed and pulling up her skirts. She would probably have deliciously feminine garters with flowers holding up her stockings and he would want to see her in them and nothing else.

  “What must you think of me, Mademoiselle Sophie? Do you think I’m going to ravish you whilst your grandmother, my sister and friends are downstairs?”

  Sophie blushed deeply. “Of— Of course not.”

  “Not that I don’t imagine pressing up your skirts to see what delicious secrets lie between your thighs,” he said lowly, pressing her against one large wooden bedpost.

  “You’re indecent,” Sophie gasped.

  “And you’re heavenly.”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “You seem to always think I’m touching you when I’m not,” Sebastian mused. “Perhaps you want my hands on you.”

  Sophie’s breathing was shallow and she hated the corsets for constricting her so. Sebastian watched her breasts fall over the neckline and ached so badly to kiss her.

  “No, monsieur. I don’t. What I want is for you to maintain your distance and behave properly.”

  He pondered her for a moment and then spoke. “Look on the other side of the room.”

  “Why?” she asked warily.

  “Just do it.”

  Sophie moved away from him, keeping an eye on him as she walked along the bed to the far side of the room. When she made her way to the other side of the room, which had been shielded by the four-poster bed’s canopy, she made a breathy sigh of awe.

  On the far side of the room was a breathtakingly beautiful portrait with a tree in the far left side of the painting and a harbor dominating the scene, with a beautiful yellow and grey sky.

  “It’s exquisite,” she said softly.

  “It is,” Sebastian agreed as he joined her.

  “Who painted it?”

  “Claude Joseph Vernet. It is of the Rochelle Harbor,” he explained.

  “It’s lovely.” She continued to stare at it. “Very lovely.”There was a minute of silence between the two of them as they enjoyed the painting.

  “I think that you had the wrong impression of me, mademoiselle.” Sebastian said as she continued to take in the painting.

  “Perhaps,” she admitted, embarrassed.

  “And perhaps, like the time at the cricket game, you owe me something,” he told her quietly. His finger drew a line between her shoulder blades where her dress dipped. His touch made her shudder.

  She shook her head. “I owe you nothing.”

  “You play games and deny me but I know you want me too,” he said.

  She turned to face him. “Do you want me as your mistress?” she asked boldly.

  “Yes.”

  Sophie caught her breath. “Then approach my father and see what he
says.”

  “You’re not the mistress type. We both know that.”

  “Then find someone who is.”

  “But I want you,” he whispered into her mouth. His lips were on hers and he was pulling her in to him.

  The firelight burned low in the room as Sebastian took her mouth, which tasted of strawberries and custard. She was luscious and alluring and he was behaving badly. So badly.

  “Please.” She pulled away from him, moving around the bed.

  “You are correct, mademoiselle. I have behaved badly. Forgive me. I had too much drink.”

  “Do you mean it?” She looked at him hesitatingly.

  No, he thought. “Yes.”

  “Then you are forgiven,” she consented. “I can do no less if you ask for forgiveness.”

  But though he was sorry for his behavior with her, he was pretending too much. He was pretending that what he felt for her wasn’t as strong as it was and he knew that it was only a matter of time. She was consuming his thoughts and that wasn’t something he was used to. Normally the women he enjoyed were married and they were lovers on the side, or ladies such as Juliette.

  But Sophie was something entirely different. Innocent and virginal, he could not claim her without paying a penalty. But he also didn’t know how much longer he could go without doing something about it. She was getting under his skin.

  “Let me escort you back downstairs,” he suggested.

  ***

  Later that evening, Dorset, Etienne and Sebastian enjoyed brandy and cigarettes and the Duke mentioned Sophie.

  “She’s quite the beauty, is she not?” he said absently to no one in particular.

  Etienne nodded and didn’t seem too concerned. He had been practically seduced by his friend’s younger sister all night long. If Leila wasn’t touching his thigh, she was touching his leg with her silken toe. When she had asked him to help turn the pages of her music, she had leaned in to thank him and actually licked his ear. She was a temptress!

  He had been rock-solid much of the evening and the Arabian woman seemed to delight in tormenting him. When she had said good evening and left with the other women, she had purposefully thanked him for being a good friend to her brother. It had been a farce. She had reached down to stroke him through his breeches and Etienne almost pushed the little tart up against the wall.