The Sheik's Son

by Nicola Italia

  “I shall look forward to it.” Sophie smiled.

  She touched the younger woman’s cheek fondly. “This is the garden room and my favorite room. I love the view. Many guests have enjoyed it as well. Good night, my dear.”

  “Good night, madame.”

  ***

  Eugenie always slept in late in the mornings and would never rise before her cup of chocolate. Sophie wore a simple white gaulle dress with a lavender sash and went downstairs for breakfast. She was alone.

  In the dining room, she helped herself to tea, bread and butter and a handful of strawberries from the sideboard before she decided to explore the grounds. She went upstairs for her parasol and quietly left the chateau by the large French doors adjacent to the dining hall.

  As she walked onto the green lawns she turned back to look at the chateau. It was a magnificent building with three floors of rooms, and she had heard Madame Necker say there were sixteen bedrooms as well as a billiards room, library, formal dining room and sitting room on the ground floor. Red bricks dotted the outside of the building, creating a lovely contrast with the white ones.

  It was a grand building and Sophie felt quite dwarfed by its size. The morning was just beginning and the smell of dew on the grass was heavy in the air. She picked up her hem and held on to her parasol as she walked beyond the green expansive lawns and into a lane with deep grooves from the carriages passing.

  The trees created a pretty effect of covering the lane as she walked. From her room she had watched the river wind through the property and she wanted to follow it to see where it led. She veered off the large lane and walked near the river’s edge, following it as it snaked along.

  She smelled the earth and breathed in deeply. There was such a simple, sweet feeling of breathing in the clean air, so different from the dirty city air in Paris. The small river was flowing at a slow pace and she had been walking for only a short time when she found a large tree to rest under.

  She wished that she had thought to bring a book because the day was so lovely and fine. Before she realized it, she was suddenly sleepy and drifted off.

  ***

  An hour passed before Sophie awoke and she continued to follow the river for a bit longer. She passed a simple bridge of wood that spanned across the water’s length and she walked across it and returned back. There were several large rocks in the water and the depth of it she guessed to be no more than ten feet at its deepest and a few inches at its shallowest.

  It was a quaint feeling to be walking along this river and she felt like a woodland fairy. She saw some thatched roofs coming into view behind the trees and wondered if she was still on the chateau grounds or if she had come upon a village. She surmised it must be a village.

  She had not seen another person in the entire time since she had left the chateau and she quite liked that feeling. In Paris there was always a crush of people no matter where she went and she didn’t mind—it was a large metropolitan city, after all. But to be in this quiet country had a calming effect on her.

  She returned to the chateau, following the river again. She walked back through the trees, the wide lane and green lawns entering the chateau. She saw her grandmother enjoying breakfast with Madame Necker and she joined the women.

  “You have a lovely color in your cheeks, Sophie,” Madame Necker remarked as she sipped her tea.

  “I was out exploring. I walked along the lane and then the river. It’s charming,” Sophie sat across from the women.

  “All alone? Was that wise?” Eugenie asked.

  Sophie smiled. “Yes. All alone. And it was entirely wise. Join me on my next outing, Grand-mère.”

  “No, I think not. I’m not a great walker. But if you enjoyed yourself, that is all that matters.” Eugenie nodded.

  “I did.” She kissed her grandmother’s cheek and left the ladies to their breakfast.

  ***

  That evening, Marmontel and La Harpe arrived and were settled into their rooms before dinner. Sophie dressed in a simple gown of apricot silk in a style less flamboyant than one she would have chosen for a Paris evening.

  She passed by the library and heard Madame Necker speaking to the housekeeper. She passed along into the sitting room where her grandmother sat before the fire with a glass of wine.

  “All right. Let me see. So Madame Gauvreau is in the gold room,” Madame Necker noted.

  “Yes,” came the reply.

  “Mademoiselle Sophie is in the garden room. Marmontel is in the blue room and La Harpe is in the red room.”

  “That is so.”

  “Germaine will arrive this evening and have her room, of course,” Madame Necker said.

  “Yes, madame.”

  “The other guests are arriving the day after tomorrow. So of course they may have their pick of what is left. Make certain the room list is circulated so there is no mix-up of the rooms already taken.”

  The housekeeper nodded.

  “I know le duc likes the gold room, but I could not refuse Madame Gauvreau,” Madame Necker supplied.

  Again the housekeeper nodded. “Yes.”

  “All right. Let the staff know where everyone is. I don’t want any problems this week.”

  The housekeeper departed at the dismissal.

  ***

  Sophie stayed with her grandmother in the salon and helped herself to a glass of sherry as the guests began trickling in. Marmontel and La Harpe joined the small group for dinner while Germaine met everyone for coffee following dinner.

  “Sophie!” She kissed the younger woman on both cheeks.

  “Germaine!” Sophie liked the lively young woman and enjoyed her company.

  “I’m so pleased Mère was able to convince you to join us,” she said, smiling at everyone.

  “Your mother is very gracious. I did not expect the invitation, nor such attention.”

  “Nonsense. You are a better addition than anyone.” Germaine settled into the couch next to her friend while coffee was passed to everyone.

  Eugenie settled near the fire with her embroidery while Madame Necker was in a chair opposite her. Marmontel and La Harpe were seated together on another couch opposite the two ladies.

  “There’s been another pamphlet. Did you know?” Marmontel spoke. His plump cheeks were reddened from several glasses of wine.

  Madame Necker nodded. “Yes. I’ve read it.”

  Eugenie pulled her thread through the fabric, intent on completing the project and only slightly taking part in the conversation around her.

  “I think we can all now agree that the author is indeed a woman,” La Harpe said, smiling, a cigarette dangling from his hand.

  Germaine was quick to respond. “How so?”

  “My dear. ‘Marry, Carry and Bear’? No man would write that.” He shook his head while Marmontel nodded in agreement.

  “Mère? What do you say?” Germaine asked.

  Madame Necker pondered the question. “I am in agreement with Monsieur La Harpe. I think the passion and intensity of the writer and the subjects chosen seem to stem from someone who is trying to clarify and educate people. The subject matters are of an entirely feminine nature.”

  “Sophie?” Germaine asked, turning to her friend.

  Sophie felt the delicious sensation of being talked about whilst in the room and she savored it. When Germaine asked her opinion, she was silent for a moment, pondering it.

  “I would agree with Madame Necker. The subjects seem to be of a feminine nature. I don’t think a man would care or take the time to write about carrying a child, much less bearing one.”

  The two men nodded and Eugenie seemed completely oblivious, though she watched her granddaughter with interest when she spoke.

  “Do you not think it a tad vulgar?” La Harpe asked in an almost sneer. “To write a pamphlet about bearing a child?”

  “Not at all, monsieur. It is a fact of life, is it not?” Sophie was quick to jump in.

  “Maybe. But this pamphlet likens women to
animals, coupling with men and then dropping the offspring as if it was no more than passing water,” he argued.

  Eugenie reddened at his words but Sophie was unaware.

  “No, I don’t agree. Bearing children is indeed a natural occurrence and we are animals with instincts and needs. And childbirth can have a devastating effect on the mothers. Many women die in childbirth,” Sophie stated.

  “Yes, yes, but to write a pamphlet on it?” La Harpe asked again. “Why?”

  “As Madame Necker said to clarify, to educate. But more than that. To have the people understand that women should have equal rights. We are not chattel. We are thinking beings. We deserve that respect.”

  “Where indeed is our friend the Comte de Buffon? As a writer of the histoire naturelle, he would enjoy this discussion,” Marmontel said.

  “Indeed he would. He arrives tomorrow,” Madame Necker said quietly.

  All eyes seemed to be on the auburn-haired beauty and Eugenie looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. A hint of admiration was in her eyes. The men looked a little perturbed by her and Germaine was smiling.

  But Madame Necker was not. She was eyeing Sophie with interest but also a certain suspicion. She wondered if Sophie’s passion for the pamphlet and supporting the writer did not stem from something far closer to home.

  Chapter 10

  Sophie thought over the conversation that evening as she lay in bed. She had been too forceful, too argumentative. She must learn to temper herself and not be so bold. Maybe her grandmother had been right all along. She must not become so overbearing and masculine in her beliefs and outward appearance.

  The fire burned low in the room and the windows offered little light from the moon outside. She turned onto her back and not for the first time thought of him. He was arrogant and off-putting but she was drawn to Sebastian. She hated even thinking the words and hated more thinking of him, but it was so.

  She was glad this week gave her time to reflect. She knew full well about his reputation with women from the scandal sheets and knew that she was just another conquest. She also knew that it was not going to happen. She would not be his mistress.

  As a well-brought-up lady he would not go any further lest he risk her father’s wrath and suffer the ultimate price: marriage. No. She would never marry a man like Sebastian. He was too sure of himself and far too mysterious. Though she had met his beautiful sister Leila, she knew next to nothing about him except his employment with the Duke of Dorset.

  The duke. There was yet another man who had designs on her and none of them honorable. She knew the duke was expected tomorrow and she would enjoy his company. Unlike the seductive Sebastian, the duke had never behaved inappropriately even if he had wanted to. She felt nothing for the duke except a mild friendship.

  ***

  The next morning Sophie and Germaine, dressed in the simple gaulle gowns, walked along the river and into the small village that Sophie had seen the previous day. Germaine was known to the villagers so Sophie felt perfectly at ease.

  They talked little of the pamphlet but more of men and the expectation of marriage.

  “Don’t you want to marry, Sophie?” Germaine asked as they walked back to the chateau.

  “I’m not sure. I have passions of learning and to be educated, and that is not something most men value.”

  “Hmm,” Germaine said.

  “Alphonse was a childhood friend who wanted to marry me. He was very different from me and I don’t think we would have suited each other well. I’m lucky in that my father would never force me, while my grandmother thinks that all women should do is marry.”

  “Yes. I have noticed your grandmother has very traditional views.”

  “That in itself I don’t mind—I just don’t want those ideas and views forced upon me.”

  Germaine nodded. “I agree entirely.”

  ***

  That evening, dinner was another large affair with platters of different meats, cheeses, fruit tarts, wine and conversation.

  The duke had not yet arrived but was expected, as well as another intellectual named Georges-Louis Leclerc, Comte de Buffon, whose published works on histoire naturelle were well known. Sophie had not met Buffon but he was a recognized man and known to Madame Necker, Marmontel and La Harpe.

  That evening Sophie had enjoyed two glasses of wine and had eaten more heavily than usual. Together with the long walks in the country, she was sleeping deeper and tonight was no exception. After pulling the white linen shift over her head she settled into the bed, pulling the covers around her. The country was proving to be exactly what she needed. It was blissful.

  ***

  The chateau was shrouded in almost complete darkness when the carriage pulled up. It was well past midnight and the moon was low in the sky.

  “Just leave my trunk at the door,” the young man told the driver.

  The elderly butler answered the door, holding one small candle but half asleep. “Hello, monsieur.”

  He recognized the man as a past guest of Madame Necker’s.

  “I have one trunk, but leave it until the morning. I have no need of it now,” he said.

  “Yes, monsieur.”

  “Do you know if my room is ready?” he asked.

  The sleepy butler handed him the candle. “It should be.”

  “It always is. Then good night, monsieur.”

  “Good night,” he murmured and shuffled off to his bed.

  Sebastian took the stairs slowly. It had been a long journey, a long day and a long week. Dorset had been in a foul mood and most of the problems were small ones that were being compounded. He was exhausted and Dorset had told him to go on ahead and that he would join the party tomorrow.

  He had agreed. He turned down the hallway and into the wing. He had stayed at the Chateau several times and always enjoyed one particular room. It reminded him of a garden and Madame Necker always had it ready for him.

  The door opened quietly and the light from the fireplace was only embers. He removed his clothes and wearily climbed into bed. The room was dark and he fell almost instantly asleep in the quiet blackness.

  Sophie awoke once in the night. She looked to the windows and they were closed. Her eyes were heavy. She moved the bedclothes off of her legs and flipped onto her back. The country was so quiet and peaceful.

  Sebastian had thrown his arm over his head and his fingers had felt something like silken thread. Too tired to care, he dismissed it as a low-hanging tapestry and went back to sleep.

  As the night turned into the early morning, the sky was filled with silver and grey. He was lying on his back in sleep when he felt a distinct form press into him from the side. It was so odd. His mind was groggy and confused. Had he spent the night with Juliette?

  When he heard a feminine sigh, his eyes instantly snapped open. He didn’t move a muscle. He looked around him and saw everything was as it should be. He was in the garden room. He saw his clothes on the back of the chair where he had placed them. He saw the fireplace and the colors of the room and the four-poster bed around him. Yes, it was Madame Necker’s Chateau. All was as it should be.

  He was naked with the bedclothes only half covering him, but that had been his own doing. He remembered asking the elderly butler about his room and climbing the stairs. He turned his head slightly. A woman was lying in the bed with him. He racked his brain. No. No. No. Nothing had happened. What was going on here?

  She was wearing a thin white shift and the cloth had wrapped around her knees so he could see her smooth white calves. She was slender and feminine and from the thin shift he could make out her thighs and rounded bottom, and instantly felt the blood rush to the one place that he didn’t need it right now.

  He moved his head along and saw a slender back and then the strands of auburn hair against the whiteness of the bedclothes. His heart started beating fast. What was going on here? He tried to rack his brain. What had Dorset said before he had made the journey? Think. He had been invit
ed by Madame Necker to the house party. Several people would be there. Yes. This all made sense. No! There was only one reason Dorset would make this tiresome journey into the country.

  Christ! He knew with certainty who lay in the bed next to him and it both frightened him and thrilled him. So many times he had wanted to touch her hair and feel its texture and this time he did. He moved his fingers along the edges of the strands and felt the silken texture. Then he moved a curl between his fingers and ached to smell it.

  How had this happened? He could only guess that Sophie had chosen this room first and the sleepy butler had not been awake enough to realize that Sebastian was walking into a powder keg. She sighed again in her sleep and moved onto her back as he moved his hand away.

  He turned onto his side, fist under his chin to support himself, and admired her sleeping profile. One creamy shoulder was exposed as her chemise had slipped in sleep. He watched her easy breathing and her small hand flung out. The small fingers and nails were so close that he could reach out and put his palm into hers. No. He knew only too well how truly dangerous this was. Not only that he was innocent, but that the house would be waking soon.

  If he was caught here, there would be so many questions with very few answers and none of them would be good. No one would believe him that nothing had happened. Hell, he wouldn’t have believed it if the story had been told to him. He couldn’t risk it. More than that, he didn’t want to risk her reputation. If one person saw him, it would be over.

  He racked his brain and closed his eyes. He was rock-hard, which didn’t help the situation. It was so frustrating but he would move slowly, dress, and leave. Simple. He let several seconds tick by before he made a slow movement to ease off the bed.

  He heard a quick intake of breath and knew she was awake. Fuck. Too late.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  She didn’t even believe her own eyes. She had been having a lovely dream. She, Lizette, Germaine and Madame Necker were walking along the river. It was a dreamy day with clouds but not cold, and with a sun that was not too bright. It was only when her Grandmother called her to tea by the river’s edge that she left her friends.