The Sheik's Son

by Nicola Italia

  A tiny moan escaped her mouth and Etienne smiled. His finger slipped inside her deeper as they kissed, tongues entwining. He imagined his cock inside her anywhere she wanted—against a wall, in a bed, anywhere where he could feel her—oh no! No!

  His finger suddenly came upon what he had not thought possible. He had thought she was a little slut who had had been sent to Paris because of a broken engagement or an impending divorce. No. That wasn’t why she had been sent to France. Not at all.

  Etienne moved his finger out of her and pressed her back to her side of the carriage with a determined look on his face.

  “What happened?” Leila asked, confused.

  Etienne wiped his finger against his breeches when all he really wanted was to taste her. “Why were you sent to France, Leila?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered vaguely.

  “Wrong answer.”

  “What do you mean?” Her eyes looked so blue, almost black in the dark.

  “What exactly did you think I would find while playing this little game?” he asked bluntly in a harsh whisper.

  Leila blushed. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re a virgin. You must have done something and your father sent you here.”

  “Oh, that.” She settled back.

  “Yes, that. I thought maybe you had been married and it didn’t work out. But they sent you here to safeguard you, didn’t they? Do you understand?”

  “I don’t care about it. I don’t want it anymore. It’s a hindrance.”

  Etienne shook his head. She was playing with fire. Some man would come along and rape her for all her teasing.

  “You’ll marry and then it will be gone.”

  “I’m old enough to experience it,” she pouted.

  “That will be up to your father to decide whom you marry and then you’ll experience it. In the meantime, stay away from me. No more of your little games. You do it again and I’m going to tell your brother,” he threatened.

  Leila was silent for several moments. “I’ve decided you’re the one I want.”

  Etienne almost shuddered. He leaned into her. “I’ve no wish to die in a duel by your brother’s hand, who incidentally is my good friend.”

  Leila smiled. “He won’t hurt you.”

  “Leila. You seem to not grasp this concept. You are a virgin. You must give it to your husband, not someone you’ve chosen for the night. You aren’t a whore.” He was getting angry.

  “I want you. No other will do,” she said simply.

  Etienne closed his eyes. He was in hell. His best friend’s sister was winding him up until all he could imagine was them both naked and entwined.

  “It’s not your choice, Leila,” he said with determination and finality.

  Afterwards, the carriage ride was silent but filled with the words that had been said by them both.

  ***

  Following dinner, everyone settled into the large salon as the butler and footman circulated coffee to the guests. Madame Necker, Germaine and Sophie sat near each other in conversation with the three intellectual men discussing politics and government.

  Etienne and Sebastian played billiards in an adjoining room while the duke and Leila played chess. Eugenie sat before the fire embroidering while keeping an eye on her granddaughter. A glass of sherry was at her right hand.

  “How was the journey here?” Sebastian asked his friend as he took up his cue.

  Etienne wondered what his friend would do if he told him the truth. Snap the billiard cue over his head, most likely.

  “Fine.”

  He would lie this time, but it would be the last. He was absolutely resolute that the next time the little temptress approached him he would go straight to her brother. He didn’t know what she had done but it must have been substantial for her to have been sent to her brother in France.

  Comte de Buffon was much impressed with the auburn-haired beauty who seemed to be a great new favorite of Madame Necker’s. Her father was a lawyer with the Ferme générale and she had been well educated.

  “I missed the discussion on birth and marriage, I understand,” he remarked.

  Marmontel and La Harpe eyed the comte before Marmontel spoke. “It was nothing.”

  “A new pamphlet being circulated, comte. ‘Marry Carry and Bear.’” Madame Necker explained to the newcomer. “With your extensive work on natural history, we thought you would have enjoyed the discussion.”

  Buffon accepted the cup and saucer of coffee and nodded. “Yes, I’ve read it.”

  “What did you think of it?” Germaine asked.

  He shrugged. “It seemed very straightforward to me.”

  Madame Necker smiled. “Well, it would. But then, you aren’t the average man, comte.”

  Buffon smiled. “Natural history is a subject dear to my heart. But to write a pamphlet on a woman marrying, carrying and bearing a child seems a tad redundant.”

  “Redundant?” Sophie asked as Madame Necker eyed her with interest.

  “Yes, my dear. This is nothing new. In fact, quite the opposite,” he said.

  “I think you are missing the point, monsieur. The pamphlet was not merely discussing the anatomy of a woman but the fact that women are so much more than that,” Sophie said, defending the pamphlet.

  “I dare say they are,” Buffon nodded.

  “Women are thinking beings just as men and as such, deserve the same consideration.” Sophie became heated in her words.

  Buffon looked to Madame Necker and smiled. “A protégé of yours?”

  “Not at all. Mademoiselle Sophie accompanied her father to my salon one evening. She has been educated and knows her own mind,” Madame Necker replied.

  “Indeed she does.” He eyed the beauty with interest.

  “I saw the most hideous play last week in Paris. Did I mention it to you, Marmontel?” La Harpe turned to the other man.

  Buffon watched Sophie’s face as Madame Necker whispered softly, “I think there is something much more than meets the eye with that one.”

  Buffon was surprised at the words. “Yes? You think so?”

  “Yes I do. But I don’t know exactly what yet.”

  “You intrigue me.”

  “But as I said, I’m not certain yet.”

  ***

  “Checkmate,” said the duke to Leila as they sat in the corner of the room with the large chess game.

  Leila played tolerably well though she was no match for him. He had enjoyed playing with her as her dress was cut low and she leaned over each time she moved a piece. But he had watched her make too many poor moves and thought it best to end the game.

  Sebastian and Etienne had joined the group inside the large salon as their billiards game was at an end.

  “Mademoiselle Sophie?” Dorset asked, gesturing to the game.

  “Gladly,” she said in acceptance as she watched Sebastian move into the room. She refused to make small talk with him.

  Dorset returned the pieces to their original places as she sat before him. “You look absolutely lovely, my dear. That color suits you very well,” he said, admiring her pink gown.

  “Thank you, monsieur.” Sophie accepted the compliment.

  Eugenie eyed the duke and Sophie at the chess table and deemed the situation acceptable. She returned to her embroidery and sherry.

  Germaine settled next to Sebastian, who was trying not to watch Sophie and concentrate on the conversation around him.

  Etienne watched Leila move away from the chess table and towards him.

  “Leila,” he nodded to her. He would behave as any man would towards his best friend’s sister but nothing more. He vowed that her games were at an end.

  “Etienne. I told my brother how kind you were in Paris taking me to the play and concert,” she said absently.

  “I could do no less,” Etienne said as he looked at Leila and then to Sebastian.

  “Of course, the maid was along as well,” she pouted.

  “It is proper to h
ave your chaperone,” Sebastian noted and Etienne nodded in agreement.

  “I suppose.”

  Madame Necker asked what the gentlemen were drinking and both requested a brandy.

  Eugenie yawned delicately and was the first to retire. She kissed her granddaughter on the cheek and left. It was nearing midnight when the three intellectuals made their way upstairs.

  Sophie won the first game and Dorset the second.

  “You’re a skilled player, my dear.”

  “My father enjoys chess and he taught me.”

  “Well, he taught you very well. Too well,” Dorset exclaimed as his king was cornered and the game was at an end.

  Sophie laughed. “Well, you can’t win every time.”

  “No, indeed not,” he said, admiring her beauty before moving upstairs to retire for the evening.

  Germaine was the next to leave and bid everyone a good night, followed by Sophie.

  Chapter 12

  The inhabitants of the chateau settled in for the night. It was quiet with only vague creaks among the wooden floorboards as the great house settled.

  Sophie was thinking of the evening. She had been much influenced by the talks with Madame Necker and wanted to write a new pamphlet. Comte de Buffon was correct. She should not simply focus on women and equality. She should focus on the people in general. Things needed to change. She needed to educate herself. Madame Necker had her mind racing and she knew she must learn about what was happening in her own country. She dipped her quill pen into the ink and wrote the items down that Madame Necker had mentioned, making a neat list.

  A weak king

  Animosity between the classes

  Foreign-born queen

  Peasant pay taxes but cannot make a living

  Costly court

  Support of war in America

  She looked it over. So many issues that concerned this great nation. Her candle burned bright as she made herself notes. When she heard the knock, she didn’t realize it was at her room until it came again. She took the candle to the door and opened it.

  Sebastian stood there, dressed as he had been at dinner.

  “I saw the light under your door. May I come in?” he asked politely in a low voice.

  Sophie seriously thought of shutting the door in his face but that would be rude. He would not seduce her. Given the chance, he could have done so this morning.

  “Someone might see you leaving or entering,” Sophie said as she widened the door.

  “I won’t be long.”

  She closed the door behind him.

  Sophie returned to the desk and he followed. Again he saw the writings on her desk, but this time a small list was included.

  “What is this?” He picked up the paper.

  “That’s nothing. Just items I was thinking of.” She dismissed it.

  He looked over the list again and frowned. This was no simple list of shopping or errands. This was a list of grave concerns currently existing in this country. It was a revolutionary’s list.

  He turned to her, serious and concerned. “Sophie, this is a dangerous list.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is a list containing all the reasons why France may be headed toward a revolution.”

  “A revolution?!” she whispered.

  “Yes. This country is in a state of great unease.” He came to her, placing the paper back on her desk.

  “I’m not sure I understand. I want to educate myself, thus the reason for the list. Nothing more.”

  “Sophie. I know who you are. You can’t do this.”

  “What do you mean, you know who I am? That I can’t do this? I can’t educate myself?” she asked.

  Sebastian placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling the warm skin and the linen shift underneath his hands.

  “Sophie. I know who you are. You can’t write about these things.” He was so close she could touch his face and slide her fingers along the cheekbones. She could move her fingers through his hair and—Wait, what? she thought.

  “What did you say?” Her eyes widened.

  “Your secret is safe with me. I’ll tell no one. But these things,” he jerked his head to her desk, “these things could get you killed.”

  She was stunned. “How did you know?” she whispered.

  “About the pamphlets?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “You used the same wording—marry, carry and bear—with me and then in the pamphlet. And you argue with those men and defend the words too vehemently. Then I saw your writings this morning and I knew.”

  Sophie looked away. “Why do you think I could be killed? This is France, not a barbaric land.”

  “Sophie, open your eyes.” His hands were suddenly sliding down her arms. “Things are happening in France.”

  She heard Madame Necker’s words echo in her ear. I’m frightened. For all her juvenile pamphlets, she knew nothing of the world around her. She was merely playing dress-up.

  “Madame Necker said the same thing. You and she are in agreement. I live in a world of books written by dead men,” she said softly.

  He watched her face and the concern appear on it. She was dressed only in the white shift with a drawstring neckline. Her hair was falling down her back and her hazel eyes looked green, then blue in the candlelight.

  “Sophie, I didn’t say those things to hurt you, only to make you see. There is a world outside books. That is all. And it can be an incredibly dangerous one.”

  Their eyes met. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said in a whisper.

  “What could happen to me?” she asked before he leaned forward.

  His lips touched hers, but it was a simple kiss. A sweet kiss. A kiss filled with longing and hope. “Sophie.” He clasped her to him. His heart thudded and began to race.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he told her in a whisper against her temple.

  He pulled back and his hands were sifting through her hair. The texture of it fell through his fingers like silk and she watched his eyes in the candlelight. He touched her face softly and his hand moved down along the column of her throat.

  “You are so lovely, Sophie.”

  ***

  Leila combed her hair several brush strokes before she had made up her mind. She knew where everyone was staying. She had seen the list for herself. She knew exactly where Etienne’s room was and she knew exactly what she must do.

  She was wearing only a simple white shift that came down to her ankles. Tonight would be the end of her virginity, she’d decided. It would burden her no longer. She would gift it to the man she loved.

  Leila made her way along the corridor in the silent house. She felt for his door knob and it turned. It was unlocked. It had only been an hour since everyone had departed the salon but she didn’t think he would be asleep.

  She entered the room and saw the light from the fireplace and the bed that dominated the room. She stepped into the room and looked for him. He lay on the bed with his arms crossed behind his head. His eyes were closed. She came towards him.

  “That’s far enough.” He spoke coldly, opening his eyes.

  She smiled. He must have known she would try something like this. He was smart as well as devilishly handsome.

  “Why?” she asked innocently.

  “Why? Because this isn’t going to happen, Leila. I only left my door unlocked to see if you would be brazen enough to try something like this.”

  “Brazen? Are you calling me a hussy?” She smiled, advancing toward the bed.

  “Yes. Now I said that’s far enough.”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s going to be far enough until you are deep inside me filling me up,” she said softly.

  Jesus, he thought. The woman knew no boundaries. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. She was too much and not enough. She was too beautiful, too young, and too innocent, with no experience of men. She didn’t realize that the tempting and teasing could d
rive a man insane.

  Leila took one more step and then easily removed her shift from her body, letting it fall into a small puddle at her feet.

  Etienne closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw her naked form, all curves and high breasts, legs and hips. He remembered so well his finger inside her in that carriage ride and almost cried out.

  “Leila.” He spoke coldly.

  She knew she would have to take matters into her own hands. She would wait no longer. She had decided Etienne would be hers. She wanted him. She would have him. She had written to her mother to tell her that she was in love. She wanted to marry him. It was the ravenous love of a young girl that would not be stopped.

  “No, Leila.” But already he was hard and throbbing. He wanted her. He wondered how could he stop this.

  Leila climbed into the large four-poster bed and slid next to him. He was wearing only dark breeches.

  “I want you deep inside me. Don’t you want me too? I have seen my father’s horses mating. I have seen the stallion cover the mare and thrust inside her. I want that. I want you and you can have me. However you want,” she whispered into his ear.

  Christ! It was too much. It was too much damn much! Etienne threw Leila onto her back and was kissing her and his fingers were in her hair and biting her mouth as she giggled. He was pressing her legs apart and settling between them even as her nails were gripping his forearms and then sliding down his back.

  She had teased him to distraction. She had tormented him and many times he had thought of her on her knees, taking him in her sweet little mouth.

  He groaned. “Leila, this isn’t right.”

  “It is.” She lay completely naked as he tried to struggle with what he knew to be right and what he knew he wanted.

  “No.” He sighed.

  “I’m yours,” she whispered. She took her hands to cup his face and kissed his mouth. “I’m yours.”

  ***

  Dorset had followed the elderly butler into the hallway before he retired for bed. He had asked the man which room Mademoiselle Gauvreau was in. He hoped to surprise her. She had looked so fetching in her gown and he was aroused and determined. And a little drunk.