Sophia heard the indifference in the young woman’s voice. “You didn’t return her affection?”
“Not at first.” She shrugged. “We are…dissimilar in so many ways. Perhaps you’ve noticed?”
“Well, I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s all right.” The girl chuckled. “It’s very simple, really. Every young lady needs friends…but Mondie is very selective.”
“How so?”
“She doesn’t want anyone to outshine her.”
“Imogen!” Sophia gasped, feigning outrage. “That was very frank.”
“Forgive me.”
“Nonsense. I appreciate it. You can be frank with me all you like.”
She smiled again. “I have a gift for music, Anastasia is well-bred, and you…”
“I have money.”
“Yes.” She laughed. “Meanwhile, Mondie has all three traits.”
“I see.”
Was that why the earl’s sister had befriended her? Because she had one desirable aristocratic trait and no more?
Sophia made a moue.
“I accepted Mondie’s friendship at my parents’ behest.” Imogen folded her hands behind her back. “Mondie’s patronage raises my own social standing, so I can make a more respectable match.”
Sophia lifted a brow. “And have you made a respectable match?”
The girl fell quiet.
“Pardon my intrusion.” Sophia dropped the banter in her voice. “I should not have inquired about something so personal.”
“It’s not that,” she said quietly. “I want to tell you…I sense you’re an honorable woman, Sophia.”
Some might not think so, she thought. Black Hawk considered her a coldhearted viper. But she dismissed the devil from her mind.
“I trust you won’t betray my confidence,” said Imogen.
“I can keep a secret.”
Sophia had so many of her own that one more seemed a trifle.
“I’ve met someone,” whispered Imogen. “He’s wonderful. Handsome and kind…I love him!”
Sophia listened to the young woman’s heart, bursting with passion. She had once guarded such romantic ideas in her head, too. But that had been a long time ago.
“I’m happy for you, Imogen.”
The girl’s features fell flat. Tears appeared in her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” said Sophia.
She sniffed. “I can’t be with him.”
“Why?”
“He’s not the sort of man my father would approve. He isn’t suitable.”
An image came to mind: an image of a rogue like Black Hawk. The impulse to protect Imogen from such a man welled in Sophia’s breast.
“Perhaps it’s best if you listen to your father’s counsel,” she said gently. “If the man isn’t suitable—”
“You don’t understand. He is respectable. But he is…Jewish. I’m afraid my father would disown me if I married him.”
“I’m sorry, Imogen.”
“It’s so hard to be apart from someone you care about!”
Sophia listened to the woman’s suffering. It was romantic rubbish. The wound in Imogen’s heart would heal with time. The girl was naïve. It was better to make a respectable match than to live in ignominy. She would learn the truth one day. Love wasn’t real. Desire ensnared the senses, fooled the heart. But desire wasn’t worth the pain of disgrace.
“Listen to me blather.” The girl wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I’m souring your good mood with my melancholy.”
“Rot.” Sophia slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her. “I cannot help you, but I hope I can offer a sympathetic ear.”
“And that you have. Thank you.”
Sophia smiled. The two women walked the length of the thoroughfare and returned to the riverside picnic.
“There you are, ladies,” said the earl. He bounded up to them in greeting. “The captain and I had prepared to search the park for you. We feared you both lost.”
Sophia’s heart quickened. The captain was positioned beside a tree. He stood under the canopy of leaves, arms folded. He watched the quiet river with a thoughtful expression—and for the first time since their reunion she desired to know his thoughts.
The man was detached from the party in both proximity and regard. He still emitted an unfriendly aura…but he also emitted a seductive one. That lazy stance belied a maelstrom of feeling.
Sophia sensed his restlessness…and the sentiment inspired fretful feelings in her own breast. She was supposed to make the earl jealous. She was supposed to use the captain to encourage the earl to propose. But their truce was so tenuous. If she flirted with the black devil, even in jest, she might get the earl’s attention—but she would also get Black Hawk’s.
Sophia quieted her wild heartbeat with a few measured breaths. “How was your ride, my lord?”
“Spirited, Miss Dawson.” He eyed the emerald bauble at her bust; it matched her rich green frock. “Come and sit, ladies. You must be parched after your long walk.”
Imogen approached the picnic blanket and settled beside Anastasia. Sophia was prepared to take a seat, too. However, the cool breeze coming off the river was so inviting, she approached the shoreline instead.
“I’ve procured a boat for the party,” said the earl. He stepped beside her and gestured toward the raft staked in the ground. “We shan’t all fit inside, but the captain and I will take turns ferrying each of you across the river. The scenery is marvelous.”
“Oh yes, I long for a boat ride,” said Sophia.
The earl beamed. “Well, then—”
“Perhaps Miss Dawson will accompany me in the boat?” The man’s voice was low yet commanding. “She is keen to see the scenery and I would be happy to take her.”
Sophia gulped. A dry heat closed her throat. She stared at the glassy water. She ignored the barbarian. But the man’s deep and penetrating glare was impossible to snub.
She glanced at Lady Lucas. The matron bobbed her head in accord. She even smiled.
“Your parasol, my dear,” said the woman.
There was a feeling in Sophia’s gut that stirred with each shaky step. She crossed the lawn and took the parasol from Lady Lucas before she approached the captain.
The brigand was formidable. The restless energy inside him strengthened with each step she took, she sensed it. He was calling to her, beckoning her to approach.
Come to me.
Blues eyes, so mesmerizing. A strength so pulsing and raw…
Sophia licked her lips. She was trapped. He was watching her keenly, summoning her. The rest of the party was watching her, too. She had to restrain the restive impulses inside her. She had to remain composed.
“Thank you, Captain.”
He eyed her with the care of a hawk. The man’s lips twitched into a handsome smile.
She shuddered.
James helped her into the boat before he removed the stake from the ground and pushed the craft into the water.
He stepped inside, his boots wet.
Sophia chewed on her bottom lip. She glanced at the shoreline slowly fading away. The earl was still standing beside the river. He was looking at her differently…possessively.
Lady Lucas had been right: jealousy was a powerful motivator. The earl would soon propose, she was sure. However, Sophia would have to suffer plenty to get the man’s title.
She lifted the parasol and quickly blocked the party from her sight. If only there was a way to blind the black devil from her eyes, too. The man’s glare was making her blood burn.
Sophia stared at the scenery: well-hewed grass, brilliant wildflowers, majestic trees. But it wasn’t easy to ignore the brigand. He always commanded attention with his presence. Even if she averted her eyes, her other senses obeyed the man’s call…robust musk filled her lungs…the soft splash of water danced in her ears as he powered the boat’s movements with his meaty hands.
He shifted his boot, bumped her toes. She quickly tucked h
er feet beneath the bench, her pulse thumping.
After a few quiet minutes, the brigand set the oars aside…and caressed the brass buttons of his coat.
She watched, transfixed, as he removed the fresh-pressed garment, shrugged it off his wide shoulders in a slow and teasing manner. He was dressed in a clean white shirt and tight gray vest. She could see…nay, she could feel the man’s strength thrumming through the crisp apparel.
Sophia’s heart quivered. A longing stirred in her breast…a longing to see more…to feel more.
She curled her fingers around the parasol.
He next set to work on his cravat, stripping the material from his neck with an almost eager resolve.
Sophia’s heart pulsed as she watched the sinewy muscles in his neck throb. Sweat gathered between her fingers. He slowly reached for his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, revealing stalwart fists and thick forearms. He was starting to look like Black Hawk, the pirate. He was starting to look like the lover she remembered from the island.
“Are you going to take off all your clothes?” she finally snapped.
He picked up the oars again and rowed with more agility. “Is that a request, sweetheart?”
“No!”
Flushed at her erroneous—and erotic—assumption, she returned her gaze to the tranquil landscape. There were other couples strolling the shore, even children frolicking. Sophia might be trapped in the boat with the black devil, but she was safe. She was in full public view. There was nothing the bounder could do to her—except set her senses afire.
“The harridan didn’t seem too worried about our boat ride together.” Without a cravat, the man’s collar parted. The muscles at his neck and chest strained as he maneuvered the oars. “I wonder why?”
Sophia was bewitched by the beads of sweat that formed on his skin, glistening in the sunlight. She imagined pressing the tip of her tongue to the salty drops in ravishment.
“Are you thirsty, sweetheart?”
She inadvertently licked her lips. There was a smoldering look in the man’s eyes. She swiftly gathered her wayward thoughts.
“You heard what the earl said.” She looked at the bucolic countryside again…but something tugged at her eyes, forcing her to gaze at the brigand once more. “You’ll each take turns rowing one of the ladies across the river, remember?”
“Yes, I look forward to it…Let’s hope the boat doesn’t turn over.”
There was a wicked gleam in his eyes. Sophia wondered if the man would really capsize the craft with one of the other ladies aboard.
She wouldn’t put it beneath him.
“You still haven’t answered my question. Why didn’t the harridan make a fuss?” he said. “I am a barbarian, after all. It’s her duty to protect you from me.”
Sophia snorted. “I can protect myself.”
“Yes, I know. It was I who taught you, remember?”
He had gifted her with the knife she had tucked between her breasts. He’d instructed her how to wield it, too. But the steel blade and leather sheath seemed so heavy to her now: a burden rather than an asset. “Then what’s your point, Black Hawk?”
She shifted, her buttocks sore. The wood planking was hard, and the moisture forming beneath her thighs and posterior was making her uncomfortable.
“I was sure the harridan would’ve preferred the earl show you the scenery instead.”
The frilly parasol offered little comfort and shade under the man’s blistering glare. He was clearly prodding her for an incriminating answer.
“If you thought that,” she said, parched, “then why did you offer to take me on the boat ride?”
He shrugged. “For the same reason you so readily consented…to make the earl jealous.”
Sophia took in a sharp breath through her nose. Her heart started to pound with more vigor.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” The man’s lips curled into a sinful smile. “Did you think the barbarian too stupid to figure out your ploy?”
She was quiet. She didn’t know what to think. The man always disturbed her senses, tossed her wits overboard, as it were.
“If you want to make the earl jealous,” he said in a low and seductive voice, “there are other ways besides the boat ride…”
The dark and sensual look in his eyes was so inviting, Sophia’s heart pinched. “I have my knife, Black Hawk.”
She was breathing hard, her fingers moist. But another heat was gathering inside her, too. A deep and familiar heat.
He lifted a black brow. “You’d attack me in full public view?”
“I’d sink you and the boat if I had to.”
“And yourself?” he said with amusement.
“I can swim.”
“So can I.”
The roasting sun was almost suffocating in strength. Sophia eyed the cool water and ached to slip beneath the tranquil waves, to douse the fire raging in her belly.
“Why don’t we turn back now?” she said quietly.
“Not yet. There’s a beautiful bit of scenery I want you to see. I think you’ll appreciate it.”
She flitted her tongue across her upper lip. “What scenery?”
He fixed his eyes on her mouth, so intent. A savage hunger burned in the deep blue pools. His balmy expression made her own lips thirst.
“I spotted it during my horse ride,” he said tightly. “We’re almost there.”
He was taut. Sophia sensed the stiffness in his posture. The wild, booming beats in her breast drowned out nature’s other sounds. The lapping waves, the twittering birds, the children’s laughing cries all faded from her mind. She was captivated by the man’s strong and swift movements as he rowed the boat. Enchanted by the dark need in his eyes: a need that matched her own.
She was strangled for words. She should order him to return to the picnic. She should jump from the craft…but she refrained from either deed. She let James take her away. She let her thoughts and good sense drift away with the current.
There was a bend in the river. The shoreline was higher—and more desolate. The park goers steered clear of the rocky embankment.
The air was thick. Sophia gasped for breath. Her corset seemed so tight. All her summer wardrobe seemed heavy, in truth. Even the delicate parasol was bearing down on her.
An old willow tree appeared, its gnarled body leaning to one side. It rested beside the shore, the escarpment crumbling. Knotty roots reached into the water like a squid’s tentacles. Sagging vines lilted softly in the breeze, grazing her cheeks as she passed beneath the enormous canopy. There was a gathering of boulders, too. And James effortlessly slipped the boat into the dark grotto.
The craft bumped against the rocks. It was a tap. But she was so tight inside, the light movement made her jump.
He rested the oars inside the boat. With a slow, even lazy regard, he moved his eyes across her figure in a thorough assessment.
Sophia sighed inwardly. He touched her with his eyes. Every patch of skin stirred and trembled under his searing stare.
The linen fabric hugged her moist flesh. She was imprisoned, the material sticky. She breathed deep and hard, stretching her lungs, the garment.
She dropped the parasol behind her.
He lifted his eyes.
Such haunting eyes.
She looked at his fingers.
The appendages twitched.
He seized her ankles and forced her feet apart. She grabbed the bench seat for support, her limbs thrumming, her pulse throbbing.
He thrust her legs upward and positioned her feet on each side of the boat, her skirts pooled at her waist.
She was open to him.
Wide open to him.
He knelt between her splayed thighs, rocking the boat with this heavy movement. She could hear his ragged breathing; it matched the tempo of her own wild heartbeat.
He pressed his great body against her torso, and she shuddered to feel his weight between her legs. She had missed him. She had missed his delicious touch, his c
aptivating presence. He ensnared her senses like no other lover. And she relished the intense feeling once more.
His tongue darted between his teeth and licked the center of her throat. It was a slow and sensuous caress. He was taking in her scent and leaving his own mark behind.
She closed her eyes. She dropped her head back and parted her lips in a silent groan. She was so vulnerable, trapped. She had no sway over her legs, her arms. She had to hold the bench seat to keep from falling. And he still gripped her ankles, keeping her legs spread apart.
But she cherished it.
She cherished submitting to him.
He moved his hands along her calves. Thick and sturdy fingers scraped her silk stockings as he scaled her knees and groped her thighs.
He rasped, “Is this what you were searching for last night in the bath?”
She cried out at the pressure between her legs. He splayed her quim with his fingers and rubbed the tight, throbbing nub of nerves in quick and fluid stokes.
She trembled and gasped. “You watched me?”
“Through the window, sweetheart.” He smiled against her throat. “It was a delightful show.”
She lifted her head and pressed her sweaty brow against his. “You son of a bitch.”
He slipped a long finger deep inside her. He crooked the appendage and rubbed a spot, so sensitive she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from moaning. She whimpered instead, the stress between her legs swelling. She undulated against his thrusting hand, seeking release.
“And this is just what I have to give you in my one finger,” he whispered.
The conceited blackguard!
“I’m glad you enjoyed the show.” She flicked her tongue over his hot lips. “Did I make you jealous, Black Hawk?”
There was a dark fire in his eyes.
“Did I make you angry?” She nipped his lower lip. He tasted so bloody good, the salty sweat on his mouth intoxicating. “I don’t need you anymore. I don’t need you to give me pleasure…I can give myself pleasure.”
He stabbed her quim with his finger; his lips thinned.
She groaned at the man’s hard and steady assault. The muscles in her quim pulsed with need.
The pirate lord removed his hands.
Sophia’s senses reeled. “What are you doing?”
She was panting, so taut and poised for pleasure. She ached to feel the orgasm pour through her blood, her womb.
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