by Sabrina York
With a great huff, he threw himself back into the chair. “Now go to sleep.”
“Don’t you want me to put out the light?”
“No. I want to be able to see where you are.”
“I’m not leaving again tonight.” Probably. Unless her despair overcame her once more.
“Leave it on.” A grunt, and not a very nice one at that. Why he had call to be annoyed, she couldn’t fathom.
Blast and damn, he was an annoying man. Sophia grunted as well and rolled over, facing the wall of the cabin. She studied the patterns the swinging lamp made for a long while, listening as he shifted one way and then the other.
It was really unfair for him to have to sleep in the chair. This was his room. But he would never share her bed. She grimaced at the way the words came out but it was true. He wouldn’t. Unless…
She rolled over again and watched him twist in the chair. He caught her eye and frowned.
“Ned?”
An impatient groan. “Yes, Sophia?”
“Ned, I’m cold.”
He stilled. Then barked, “Put on another blanket.”
“There aren’t any more.” She faked a shiver. She wasn’t cold in the slightest. She never was. Ewan said she ran hot. “Brr. My teeth are chattering.”
His glower became a frown.
“I hope I don’t get ill.”
He paled. “You shouldn’t have gone out in the rain. Why did you go out in the rain?”
She sneezed. Or something like it. “I don’t know.”
“Sophia?”
“Am I running a fever?” She put her palm to her forehead. “I think I’m running a fever.”
His brow wrinkled. He stood and made his way across the tiny chamber as though on his death march. He set the backs of his fingers to her cheeks. His frown darkened. “You are warm.”
“No. I’m cold.” She shivered and peered up at him, her eyes as wide as she could make them. “Won’t you warm me?”
He wrenched his hand away as though she’d burned him. “What?”
“Lie here beside me and warm me up?”
“There’s not enough room for both of us.”
“I’m small.”
“Sophia.”
She’d never heard her name in such a strangled voice, not even when Ewan was at his wit’s end. “Just for a bit? You can be on top of the covers. Surely that is decent.”
The muscle in his cheek bunched again, as though he was grinding his teeth.
“Please?”
He gusted a sigh. “All right, Sophia. Scoot over and make room.”
She did. With alacrity.
“And roll over, facing the wall.”
She frowned at him “Why?”
“Just do it. Please.”
“Oh, all right.” But only because he said please. And because when she was facing the other way, he couldn’t see her grin.
He settled in behind her and a shiver rocked her. He was warm. And he smelled delicious. Not fishy in the slightest. It was delightful, lying here with him. She closed her eyes and imagined he wanted this as much as she.
If only. If only.
Chapter Five
It was hell. Sheer hell lying next to Sophia on that narrow berth. There was no other word to describe it. With every breath, with each lunge of the boat, her soft body brushed against his. And with every passing moment, Ned grew harder. When he was certain he couldn’t possibly be in more agony, she shifted and her round bottom nudged his cock. He stifled his groan because he didn’t want to wake her. Arching away, he gritted his teeth.
He’d wanted her for years with a blazing passion. He’d watched her flit through season after season, dancing and laughing and flirting and utterly oblivious of him as a man. He’d ceased to exist for her that day. It was burned on his brain, the memory of what he’d said to her as she’d trotted up to hug him at the Darlington house party. He’d been surrounded by his friends and stinging from a dual set-down delivered—in tandem—by Ewan and Edward.
“She’s your sister-in-law,” his brother had growled.
“You’re nae good enough for her,” her brother had spat.
Ewan had spat other things too, including dire threats to Ned’s person should he so much as speak to her again. So when she tried to hug him, he’d pushed her away. Called her a pest.
Her expression had slayed him.
Nothing had been the same between them since.
And damn, he missed her. He missed their riotous conversations. He missed her laughter, her smile. Her spirit.
It was torture being so close to her now, knowing nothing could come of it.
At the same time, it was heaven. This was all he would ever have of her. He should savor it.
The ship lurched and he teetered on the edge of the bed. Madly, he grabbed for the rail built into the wall of the bunk. He’d wondered why one would build a rail into the wall of a bunk. Now he understood.
Still, it was an awkward position. He lay on his side, trying desperately not to touch Sophia, with his arm practically around her as he clenched for purchase and tried to sleep.
Sleep?
Hell, there would be no sleep on this night. Not for him.
But he was wrong.
At some point he must have drifted off, because when he awoke they had both shifted positions. He was on his back and she was draped over him with her cheek resting on his chest and her thigh draped over his—
Holy God.
He was stone hard in a breath.
He locked his muscles and tried not to move.
Holy God.
His pulse thrummed in his temple. When she murmured in her sleep and rubbed her leg up and down on his aching cock, he went cross-eyed.
It felt so good. But it was so wrong.
So utterly wrong.
That her legs were bare didn’t help.
Ewan would kill him simply for entertaining the thoughts whipping through his mind.
Sophia nestled closer. Her hair scraped against the underside of his chin. Her hand skated over his chest. The ship heaved and he tightened his arms around her. Surely that was the reason. The only reason.
She blew out a sigh and her breath danced across his neck. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to imagine it was a kiss.
He’d been with women before—he was hardly a green lad—but he’d never wanted like this. Never had such a feral need, so strong it made him tremble. And he was not a trembling man. All he could think of was rolling her over, spreading her thighs and mounting her. The desire to do so blinded him.
Instead he fisted his hands in the covers and held as still as he could while she found a comfortable spot on his body.
He must have been a wicked child. He must have committed some heinous sin for God to punish him so.
But he was a strong man. And he was an honorable man. And he was a stubborn man. And her brother was very large. So Ned banished his lust. Wiped it completely from his mind, focusing on a horse he’d seen at Tattersall’s and the price of tea in India and the lineage of the English kings.
He had almost succeeded in reining in his arousal when her lips touched his neck, just under his ear.
She was still sleeping, soft and warm against him, but her lips touched his neck. And then her tongue.
The lust he’d thought quiescent raged to the fore. He could not hold back his groan. It did not wake her. She riffled a little snore and settled back down.
Scant moments later, her hand began to rove. She, in her sleep, rubbed his chest, his sides, his arms. Her palm drifted over a nipple, sending rivulets of pleasure through him, but still he did not move. Did not yank her away as he should.
It was far too alluring.
The effort of holding preternaturally still wore on him; his muscles began to shake. A sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. Still, she explored him. Her tiny hand skated down—he sucked in a breath—but then it skated back up again, beneath his shirt. He groaned at the sensation of h
er skin on his.
God.
God.
She kissed him again, just a tiny buss, her open mouth against his neck. Her lips closed in a tiny suck.
His vision blurred.
Thank heaven she was sleeping, else he would have to stop her.
He would have to stop her at some point, he reminded himself. He wasn’t sure how long he could bear the torment. In fact, he was very close to a disaster. Yes. He should stop her. But not yet. Not just yet.
Hell.
He should have stopped her.
She shifted her leg and her palm drifted to his braes. Before he could push her away, before he could leap from the bed, before he could so much as assimilate what she was doing, she palmed him.
Every muscle locked. The breath caught in his throat. His pulse surged.
Hell and damnation.
He looked down to see her gazing up at him with wide eyes.
Fuck.
She was awake. She was awake and she had hold of his cock.
“What’s this, Ned?” she asked in a curious, fiendishly innocent voice.
“Jesus, Joseph and Mary, Sophia. You shouldn’t be touching that.” He tried to pry her fingers away. She gripped him tighter. He shuddered as heat boiled through him.
“Why is it so hard?” Her lashes fluttered as she blinked.
“Christ, Sophia, I—”
Ah, God. She stroked.
Not a light flutter of virginal fingers, but a full-bodied tug. He gritted his teeth.
“Are all men so large?”
“Sophia—”
“Because you are very large.” Another pump and another. If she didn’t stop, he would disgrace himself right there in her hand. She shifted up on her elbow, propped it on his chest and stared down at him. She did not release her hold on him. “You should explain this to me. I’m to be married, you know.”
Denial howled through him. Denial and a deep dissatisfaction. Also, lust.
“Your husband would not appreciate this moment.”
“Husband-to-be.” She shrugged. “And I hardly give a whit what he thinks. I don’t even know the man, whoever he is.” She smiled and he was dazzled by the brilliance of it. Too dazzled, apparently, to realize she’d been distracting him. So she could unfasten his trousers.
With an odd mix of horror and delight, he realized what she’d done as her hand closed on him. He scrunched his eyes shut and hissed a breath through his teeth.
God almighty, what bliss. Her warmth. The scrape of her soft skin. The pressure as she fisted him.
“Hmm,” she said.
His lids flew open. “Wh-what?”
“It’s very smooth. Like velvet.” She nibbled on her lower lip as she rooted in his braes, tracing him, circling the engorged head. “And this is damp.”
He grabbed for her wrist but could not stop her exploration. “Lady Sophia!” He used her title—though it was an honorary title at best—because he hoped in doing so he could recall her to her station. It did not work. “You must stop this at once!”
She peered at him with a very naughty smile. “Or what?”
“I am only human. Only flesh and blood. You’re killing me.”
Unaccountably, her smile broadened as she renewed her heinous caresses, gazing into his eyes and murmuring evil things such as, “You are so hard, so strong, so rampant.”
He wondered where she’d heard such talk but then all thoughts fled as she added a circular twist to her wrist.
You should stop her, a little voice in his head cried. But it became smaller and smaller as his insanity rose. His crisis neared. His cock swelled and his balls tightened. Heat boiled at his core. Need and want and desperation clawed at him.
He writhed, moaned, groaned to her wicked ministrations.
She didn’t know what she was doing, he told himself. It was all right because she really didn’t understand.
But as he exploded, releasing his passion onto his belly, he caught her expression and a horrible realization flooded him.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
And she’d done it very well.
Magnificent!
Sophia grinned down at Ned, taking in the ecstasy on his beautiful face, the shudders and the cries as she pleasured him. She pleasured him.
Never before had she felt such raw excitement, such power.
She’d never really understood what had happened to her brother when he met and married Violet, why with his men he was as bristly as a bear but when his wife walked in the room, he melted.
And she’d never really understood that smug look on Violet’s face when it happened.
Now she saw. Now she understood.
As strong and powerful and adamant as Ned was, he’d been helpless before her touch.
Flushing heartily, he reached to the floor and grabbed one of the damp shirts to wipe his belly. Sophia watched with avid interest. This made him flush more.
She grinned.
He caught her expression and winced. “Your brother is going to kill me.”
“No, he won’t.” She plopped down on his chest and stared up at him.
“He absolutely will.”
“We won’t tell him.”
He frowned at her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“You were having trouble sleeping.”
“I was not,” he sputtered.
“You were.”
“Regardless, that is beside the point.”
She tipped her head. “Was there a point?”
“Yes. There was.” He had to think for a moment to remember it. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Didn’t you enjoy it?” She put out a lip, though she knew he had. He’d enjoyed it a lot if his moans and cries were any measure.
He frowned. “That does not signify.” Though he was arguing with her, he was not insisting she move away. Which was promising.
“It signifies very much.” She glanced at him through her lashes. “I enjoyed it.”
“You-you did?” He softened, gazed at her, his lips slack. And then he recalled himself. “But you should not have done that. Sophia, gentle ladies do not…” He flourished a hand about his crotch.
“Tug a tallywag?”
His eyes bugged out. “Where did you hear that term?”
She shrugged. He didn’t need to know. “Point being, I always wondered.”
“Well, stop wondering. Until you’re married.” He seemed to rethink that. “And even then.”
“Oh, I wonder about lots of things,” she sighed. “They don’t tell us much in those fancy English schools, you know.”
“I imagine not.” He jerked the placket closed and fastened his trousers.
“For example, I wonder what that would taste like.”
He froze. Slowly his attention lifted from his frantic fastening to her face. His Adam’s apple worked. “What, ah, what would taste like?”
“That.” She pointed to the shirt he’d tossed onto the floor. “And that.” She pointed to his safely secured, aforementioned tallywag.
For some reason, his breath seized. He wheezed mightily. Another bulge formed in his trousers. “Jesus, Mary and—Sophia!” He grabbed her wrist as she cupped him again.
“Is it always hard?” she asked.
He gusted a laugh and muttered beneath his breath something that sounded like around you. Then he firmly, resolutely, dragged her hand away from the object of her interest.
“You understand my curiosity. They never tell us anything.”
“For good reason. You’re dangerous.”
“I am not.” She pouted. She wasn’t. Not hardly.
He yanked the blankets up over her legs and then pooled the rest about his lap as though that area needed additional defenses. “Come here,” he said tugging her against him. She was charmed by his desire to hold her until she realized he was only doing it to keep her still. Indeed, he grabbed her hand and held it in his when she once again began foraging. “Tell me what
else you are curious about.”
This was clearly a ploy to distract her. She would not allow it. He’d allowed her to creep this close. It encouraged her to creep closer still. “Well, I often wonder how it is done.”
“It?”
“You know.”
His muscles tightened. “I am not explaining that.”
“And I’ve often wondered…” She paused. For effect. “If women enjoy it.” She peeped up at him. In time to see him pale.
“If they did not, there would be no babies, Sophia,” he said gruffly.
“Oh, I know, Ned. But I don’t really understand.”
“Understand what?”
“What it feels like.”
He stilled.
“What it feels like to have a man’s hands touching me. His lips kissing me. His body over mine, thrusting—”
“Sophia!”
“I’d like to know. Just once.”
“You will.” He set his chin on the top of her head, most likely so he didn’t have to look at her. The coward. “One day you’ll be married to a horribly wealthy man and you’ll know.”
“I don’t want a horribly wealthy man. Or a prince.” She pulled away so he would have to look at her. “I just want someone to love me. Is that so much to ask?”
He said nothing, just stared at her. Beneath her palm his heart thrummed.
“It’s so unfair that men can do anything and girls can do nothing. You have adventures and wild love affairs and no one says a word. If I so much as kiss a man in public, I become his slave for life.”
“Hardly a—”
“It’s simply unfair that you can know what passion tastes like while we all shrivel up and die.”
“You’re hardly shriveled,” he assured her in a soft voice.
“But I’ve never known passion.” Never, but in one kiss.
“This is as it should be, Sophia. It’s the way of the world.”
She frowned. “It’s the way of society, Ned. Not the world.” She was well-versed in the way of the world. And, generally speaking, chastity was not a part of it. “Would it be too much to ask you to show me?” This, she asked in a small voice.
Still, he winced. “Too much?”
“For you to touch me the way I touched you? To let me feel what you felt?”