Sex and the Single Earl
Page 31
She went as rigid as a gatepost. His instincts, so attuned to everything about her, woke up. He peered into her face. She looked…guilty.
“Sophie, what’s wrong?”
“Well, about my bracelet, Simon…” Her voice trailed off. She gave him a suspiciously placating smile.
He sighed. “Just tell me now, and get it over with.”
She carefully placed the papers to one side and faced him. She looked as if she was confronting a firing squad.
“I didn’t tell you the exact truth about the theft. It wasn’t my coral bracelet, it was my gold bracelet that was stolen—the Stanton family heirloom. I was taking it to the jeweler’s when Toby snatched my reticule. Becky made him return it to me that night I went to the theater.” The words came out in a rush, as if she’d been bottling them up for months.
Which she had.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She winced at his tone of voice.
Damn. He didn’t mean to sound so annoyed, but his insides went cold and hollow whenever he thought of the risks she’d taken to recover her bracelet. Now, at least, her seemingly demented behavior in Bath made sense.
“I wanted to,” she said, regret coloring her voice. “But I couldn’t bear what you and the rest of the family would think of me. You all thought me so careless and scandal-prone. I had to find it before anyone knew it was gone. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell you.”
Behind the glint of her spectacles her eyes held defiance, and more than a hint of the vulnerability that never failed to tug at his heart.
He pulled her into his arms. “Love, you have nothing to apologize for. The fault is mine. If I hadn’t been such an ill-tempered prig, you would have trusted me enough to ask for help.”
She snuggled against him, a sweet little package of femininity. His rampant desire to protect her—never far from the surface—came up in a rush. As did something else, responding eagerly to the press of her soft breasts and slim hips against his hardening body.
He rolled her onto her back. “But no more secrets, Sophie. I mean it. If I find out you’re holding anything back from me I’ll have to punish you.”
She smiled, a wicked curl of mischief shaping her plush mouth. “And how do you intend to carry out your punishment, my lord?”
“I have many ways, my lady,” he growled, tickling her ribs.
She howled with laughter and swatted his hands. Their tussle soon evolved into another kind of play, the best kind of play for adults.
After a time—a very happy time—he eased out of her and lay back, tucking her against his side. She had worn him out, but he still couldn’t resist letting his hand drift over her breasts, down her sides, over her smooth belly—
He craned his neck to look down at her body.
“Sophie, is it my imagination or are you getting plump? You did eat quite a lot of sweets over the holidays, as I recall.”
She pinched his arm. “Simon, you beast!”
“Ouch. Madam wife, I swear you turn me black and blue.” He levered himself over her, nuzzling the scowl from her face with a kiss. “Sophie, I would love you even if you grew to be as large as Jack Spratt’s wife.”
“No one would ever mistake you for lean, at least down there,” she grumbled, wriggling underneath him. Predictably, his staff twitched to life.
He made his way down her body, kissing the gentle swell of her belly. “You’re even softer here, and down here, too. I like it.” He let his hands wander.
She gasped. “Simon, I have another secret to tell you.”
He stilled. “A good or a bad one?”
“I think it’s a good one.” She hesitated. “I’m with child.”
Something popped in his head, and then it filled up with a feeling as fizzy as champagne bubbles. He surged up her body.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Quite sure.”
He captured her face in his hands, staring into eyes that gazed back at him with perfect trust and perfect love. He didn’t know if his heart could hold so much happiness without bursting, but he had a whole lifetime with Sophie to find out.
“Now,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Isn’t that much nicer than a pile of nasty old coal?”
He wanted to laugh, but joy squeezed his throat.
“It’s nicer than anything,” he managed.
And he meant every word.
About the Author
Vanessa Kelly was born and raised in New Jersey, but eventually migrated north to Canada. She holds a master’s Degree from Rutgers University, and went on to attend the Ph.D. program in English Literature at the University of Toronto. Alas, she didn’t finish her degree, but she did spend many happy hours studying the works of eighteenth-century British authors and writing about the madness of King George III. She left graduate school to work as a researcher and writer for a large public sector organization. Vanessa now devotes her time to writing historical romance, and hopes that her readers will find her books as much fun to read as they were to write. She currently lives with her husband in Ottawa. You can visit her on the web at www.vanessakellyauthor.com.
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Copyright © 2010 by Vanessa Kelly
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-1923-7