Chapter Eight
Sophie sucked in her breath at Lord Tamworth’s curse. “That was uncalled for.” She stilled, surprised she’d voiced her thoughts. She couldn’t well take her words back, so she waited for his response.
“I beg your forgiveness. It seems that I must do so every time I see you.” That sentence ended on a growl, which was hardly contrite.
For some reason, his frustration irritated her. Where was her unending patience? Then again, he was the one who continued to do the unthinkable, so he should apologize. “And is that my fault somehow?”
He blinked before sighing. “No, indeed it isn’t. I don’t understand why, but I’m continually making things difficult for you. I promise it is not intentional. I didn’t mean for your mask to come undone, nor did I expect Lord Durham to shove me into you.”
She thought about Ellie, who would cross her arms over her bountiful chest at such a recitation. Since Sophie wasn’t so well endowed, she clasped her hands before her, keeping her mouth closed despite the unusual need to argue.
When she didn’t respond, he continued. “None of that was my fault, but nor was it yours. We are simply victims of fate, but that is not an excuse. I do, humbly, beg your forgiveness for revealing your beautiful face before you wished to and for sliding into you on the lake.”
He thought her beautiful? It must be because there were no other women in the room. “I accept your apology.”
His chest expanded, revealing more of his bare torso in the V of his shirt.
Quickly, she looked away, only to notice an open trunk next to a small table that revealed a piece of clothing.
The table had a bottle on it. Behind that was an end table with books on it, and next to that was the bed.
She was in his bedroom! While she’d known that, she hadn’t fully realized the implications until that very moment.
Images from The Illustrated Pleasures of Seduction flashed through her mind, filling her with memories of his kisses. “I need to go.” She turned around, fully intending to walk out the door.
“Wait.” He grabbed her hand and spun her back like a slingshot. She found herself bumping into him, but instead of falling back, he wrapped his arm around her, pressing her to him.
Startled, she snapped her gaze to meet his warm brown one. She felt his chest expand against her own as he took a deep breath before his eyes moved to her mouth. Nervous, she licked her lips even as the memories of his kisses surfaced.
“May I kiss you?”
His question surprised her, actually disappointed her, because she wanted him to, but it was hardly proper. She tried to reply, but the word “no” stuck in her throat, and before she could think clearly, she nodded.
Her gaze moved to his mouth, and as it drew closer, she found herself tightly gripping his clothing as if afraid he’d stop.
But he didn’t. His mouth covered hers gently before he slipped his tongue between her lips and explored leisurely.
As before, her limbs felt weak, but her heart beat rapidly and she pressed herself closer, as a feeling of wanting bloomed inside of her.
Hesitantly, she moved her tongue into his mouth.
He captured it with his own, intensifying the kiss until her breathing became impossible… and still she wanted more.
His hand on her back lowered to cup her behind, and as he pulled her pelvis against his, she felt a hard ridge above her mons. The images in the book burst upon her as heat started deep inside her. She wanted him as a woman wanted a man, and the realization stunned her. She didn’t even know him.
But she couldn’t bring herself to break the kiss. It may be the last kiss she would ever know. She wanted more than the kiss. She wanted all the book had shown her.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he moved his mouth from her own to her neck, bending her back as he licked and nipped his way down to the very swell of her breast, revealed above her neckline.
The need to take off her dress caught her by surprise.
She couldn’t. She tried to speak, but barely got out a syllable. “Tam…”
Though her voice was barely a whisper, he stilled as if frozen by a winter blast. Then, reluctantly, he pressed a final kiss upon her chest before lifting his head to look at her. “I want more of you, but I will not take what is not mine to have.”
Gently, he lifted her straight and slowly released her.
Despite his care, she lost her balance and grabbed his arm, her cheeks heating with embarrassment over her stumble.
She should be embarrassed by her behavior, but once again, around him, she felt more like Rosalind and had no intention of apologizing for her actions.
Instead, she released his arm. “I need to go.”
“Yes, you do, but my room is so far down the corridor, if you’re seen, questions will be raised.”
So that was why he’d kept her from leaving.
In her hurry, she hadn’t thought of that—but fortunately he had, or she might have missed kissing him, or rather might have been caught.
She wasn’t interested in a forced marriage any more than any of her friends.
“Thank you for stopping me. I hadn’t fully analyzed the situation, as Mr. Billings taught us. ”
His lips quirked. “I’m not sure getting caught in the corridor outside my room is equal in danger to being on a country road at night alone.”
“I beg to differ. Danger comes in all forms.” She met his gaze, making sure he understood the circumstances that could end in their being forced to wed.
He sobered instantly. “I see your point.” He leaned back against his bedpost, grasping one hand in the other and working his knuckles until they popped. “I wish I had a domino here. That would solve the problem nicely. I don’t even have a mask, as I didn’t wear one at the Twelfth Night ball.”
“I still have my white mask, but as the domino I wore was Ellie’s, I didn’t bring it back to school. It’s of no consequence anyway. I can’t retrieve anything from my room while in yours.”
“Now we know what we can’t do.” Obviously disappointed, he started popping his other hand’s knuckles.
His actions reminded her of Macbeth, when Lady Macbeth kept washing her hands, trying to clean off the invisible blood because she’d aided in the death of King Duncan. Surely, their actions weren’t so sinful.
Oh, that was it. She scanned his room. She’d seen a book somewhere. “You have books in here.”
He frowned, confused. “I do, but I don’t think reading until late tonight is a good plan.”
“No, no. I don’t want to read it here.” She spotted the books she’d seen earlier and moved to the end table by the bed.
As she lifted the two books, she inhaled the scent of cedarwood.
It was his scent radiating from the covers.
Quickly, she brought the two books back to the sitting area before the door.
“What do you propose? That you came by to borrow a book? That, itself, is also improper.”
She shook her head as she read the titles. “Beowulf and Candide. Are these what are read at Oxford, then?”
“They are.”
Mrs. Kingman had said Beowulf was too harsh and had Sophie read The Song of Roland. Now was her chance to read one of the first stories known to man. She held Candide out to Lord Tamworth. “Here. I’ll take this one.”
He pushed away from the bedpost and accepted the book. “Take it where? As I said, borrowing a book from me won’t help our situation.”
She appreciated that he didn’t refer to it as her situation, and for the first time since being pulled into his room, she smiled.
“That’s true. But since I’m known to enjoy a book so much that I read while I walk and sometimes end up nowhere near where I intended, if I take your book and read it as I walk, no one will think anything amiss. ”
“Honestly?”
The sound of hope in his voice had her feeling like the wise guide, Virgil, in Dante’s Inferno, who led Dante safely through the nine levels of hell. “Yes, I promise you.”
His relief was palpable. “Then I gladly gift you that book.”
Her chest filled with warmth at his kindness. “Thank you.” For a moment, she gazed at him, imagining him as Sir Perceval, King Arthur’s knight who set out on a quest for the Holy Grail, then forced herself to turn toward the door.
“Wait.” His footsteps on the rug were muffled as he stepped up next to her. “Tell me what your focus of study is.”
He was too close for her to look at and not blush, so she didn’t. “Why?”
“Because I want to know where to find you in the event I need to…apologize again.”
She finally looked at him and felt a tingle down to her toes at his grin. “You can apologize now in advance.”
He shook his head. “But then I’d have no reason to seek you out.”
Her heart skipped a beat. That he wanted to know her relieved her, scared her, and titillated her. The last feeling must be the new Rosalind side of her, because she certainly didn’t want to be known by anyone but friends.
She looked askance at him. “You already know my study focus.” With that, she moved toward the door, ready to open the book.
Lord Tamworth stepped before her, put his finger to his lips, then opened it and looked into the corridor.
He waited a couple of minutes then nodded to her, and she slipped out, opening the book and looking at the pages as she walked back toward the inner balcony on three sides of the grand stairs. But she actually didn’t see a word.
Her fear that someone would notice which corridor she came from quickly changed to confusion as she exited it, walking past one other corridor and into the students’ wing.
Her feelings for Lord Tamworth filled her like the storm that wrecked Robinson Crusoe on his island.
They seemed to swallow her, lift her up, and dash her down.
From excitement to shame, from fear to bravery, her feelings buffeted her until she finally came to her room and stepped inside her haven.