Chapter 19
You’re being a damn fool.
He knew that. He felt it deep in his soul. But he still couldn’t make himself turn and walk away.
The door opened inward, and Sophie appeared in the gap, still wearing the dress she’d been in at dinner.
“Sorry about that,” she said softly, her gaze darting down the corridor as if to check that no one could see him standing outside her room.
It was dangerous.
So dangerous.
Why was it happening here, again?
“The baron saw me slip away, and the only excuse I could think of was that I was feeling ill,” she continued.
“I understand.”
When he’d first seen them together, part of him had wanted to tear her away from the other man and insist on escorting her to her bedchamber himself, but doing so would have caused all sorts of problems they’d have had to deal with later.
“May I come in?” he asked. The longer he lingered in the corridor, the more likely it was that they’d be seen.
She put one of her hands on her hip. “Only if you’re confident that you can ensure you aren’t caught or that you’re willing to marry me.”
A rush of adrenaline flooded him at the idea of being “forced” to marry her.
His mother would go on a rampage, and Theo would probably be upset with him—because of the scandal and mistreatment of Sophie, not the marriage itself.
He’d find himself trussed up in front of the altar and tied to the most fascinating woman he’d ever met.
Somehow, despite the issue with his mother, he didn’t hate the idea.
Maybe he even liked the prospect of having the choice taken out of his hands. But Sophie deserved better than that, so he considered her words carefully. He’d been forced to sneak out of bedchambers before, and he’d not yet been caught, so he trusted that he could do it again if necessary.
She swayed closer, her floral scent tickling his nostrils, making it difficult to think clearly.
“Agreed,” he said eventually.
She opened the door wider and moved aside to let him in. Once he was inside, she closed the door and locked it.
“Speak quietly,” she said, crossing to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. “I’m not sure how well sound travels in this part of the manor.”
He padded toward her, eying the bed, debating whether to sit on it or if that would be inviting trouble. In the end, he dragged over a chair, placed it a few feet in front of her, and lowered himself onto it. He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned forward.
“So.” She blinked rapidly, her eyelashes fluttering, but not in a way that was designed to be coy. “I must marry. I… I like you, Nicholas. A lot. I would gladly marry you. But as I said, this connection between us must end if you can’t offer me a commitment.”
Her spine was straight, her chin high. Damn, he admired her courage.
He corralled his whirling thoughts and drew in a deep breath. Holding her gaze, he knew somehow that he would be content to stare into her eyes forever.
“I care for you deeply,” he admitted, enjoying the way her lips curved into a slight smile. “But there are two reasons why I don’t believe I can marry you.”
Her face fell, and his stomach plummeted in response. He hated disappointing her, but he had to be honest.
“What are they?” she asked, wiping any hint of expression from her features.
He fidgeted. How was he supposed to know what she was thinking if she hid it from him?
“Well… if something were to go wrong between us, it could create tension between me and Theo and you and Kate. Kate is your best friend and Theo is mine. I’ve always let him down, and I don’t want to do that again. ”
Her features eased, her eyes softening, and he thanked his lucky stars that the blank facade had vanished so quickly.
“I understand your concern. Kate is important to me, and I suspect that Theodore is even more important to you, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t want to jeopardize those relationships, but I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. I doubt you’ve ever let him down.”
“You’d be surprised,” he muttered, recalling Theo’s devastation when he realized he’d have to remarry because of Nicholas’s actions.
“Maybe,” she allowed, sliding her hands under her thighs and pinning them to the bed. “But I believe that we could work through any disagreements before they escalate to that stage. You and I have been friends for over a year, and that gives us a solid foundation for our relationship.”
She was saying everything he wanted to hear, and he looked around the room, focusing on the overly pink decor rather than on the way her flush had spread down her neck and across the top of her chest.
He cleared his throat. “There’s another reason.”
“What is it?”
He bit the inside of his lip so hard that the metallic tang of iron filled his mouth. “I’m not sure if I can tell you. It involves a secret that isn’t mine to share. Or at least, not in its entirety. Suffice it to say that marrying you might shatter my relationship with my mother.”
A question appeared in her eyes. He wished he could give her the answer she sought.
“Since this secret affects my future, I would like to know what it is, but you can take some time to think it over further before deciding whether to share, if that would make you more comfortable.”
Comfortable? He almost scoffed. Nothing about this situation was comfortable.
She withdrew one of her hands from beneath her thigh and extended it to him. He took it, aching to peel away the glove and pepper the inside of her wrist with kisses. He settled for kissing the glove-clad back of her hand instead.
“Do you want to marry me?” she asked, a tiny quiver in her voice giving away her nerves. “Because if you do, we can find a way to make it happen and ensure that you don’t lose your mother or your brother. I don’t know how yet because I don’t know what your secret is, but there must be options.”
Did he want to?
He hadn’t even allowed himself to wonder.
What would it feel like to wake up every morning and see Sophie’s sleepy face on the pillow beside his?
How widely would she smile when he finally took her to Hensley Racecourse?
How right would it be to pull her close and hold her in his arms whenever he wanted?
His gut ached and the back of his throat thickened.
The truth was, he did want to marry her.
Badly.
“Yes,” he whispered, afraid to say it any louder. “Marrying you would make me… happy.”
And so few things made Nicholas genuinely happy.
A good sparring session with his brother, a hard ride on Blackheart, the sight of Sophie’s face lighting up as she saw him after a time apart.
“Really?” She looked so achingly hopeful that he wanted to slap himself for giving her reason to doubt her own appeal.
He shifted over to the bed, giving in to the devil that had been whispering on his shoulder, and cupped her face. “Truly. You are the only woman who’s ever tempted me to consider forever. May I kiss you?”
He wasn’t going to make the same mistake as he had earlier, when he’d jumped in without permission or forethought.
“Yes.”
He brushed his lips over hers, softly at first and then more firmly, repeating the movement again and again as she melted against him.
Finally, when she was pliable, he darted his tongue out. Her lips parted, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his hands down her neck and around her body to hold her securely in place.
She kissed him back, tentatively at first. Her tongue brushed his hesitantly, but she grew more confident with each stroke.
It was obvious she’d never been kissed before, and a thrill shot through him at the realization that he would get to introduce her to pleasure.
If he married her, then he would be the only man to ever share in her pleasure, and wasn’t that a heady thought?
He groaned into her mouth. So sweet.
She drew back, breathing heavily, her lips parted. She looked like sin incarnate.
“If you are to be mine, then you’re not to kiss anyone else,” he rasped, a sense of satisfaction sinking into his bones at the rightness of it. He’d never been a possessive man, but then, he’d never desired anyone the way he did Sophie either.
She laughed breathlessly. “That’s fine with me as long as you don’t kiss any of the ladies who proposition you. I know there’s been at least one since we arrived.”
He snorted, caught off guard by the comment. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“I notice everything when it comes to you.”
His heart leapt, and he smiled, more satisfaction curling through him. “I promise that my lips are yours.”
“As they should be.”
He tilted her back and skimmed his lips down the creamy length of her neck. “Shall I show you what they can do?”
“Yes, please.”
He continued trailing kisses down her neck, lowering her onto the bed as he moved down to her exposed collarbone and traced its elegant angles with his mouth.
Journeying farther south, he nuzzled at her breasts and kissed the top of each. They weren’t the largest he’d ever seen, but compared to her slim waist, they were in perfect, mouthwatering proportion.
He grabbed the hem of her skirt and inched it up, brushing his fingertips along her stocking-clad calves. “May I?”
Her breath hitched. “Yes.”
Closing his eyes, he took a moment to revel in the utter trust she was showing him. She didn’t know what he intended, but she believed that he would take care of her, and so he would.
He edged her skirts and petticoats up tantalizingly slowly, caressing her legs and toying with the tops of her stockings. The first time his thumb brushed the bare skin of her inner thigh, she gave a small jolt of surprise and a shiver rippled through her.
He worked his way up just as slowly as he’d been going, trailing chaste kisses behind each place he touched. By the time he finally revealed her sex, his cock was hard enough to pound nails, and his hands were trembling from the effort required not to just grab her and bury himself in her wet heat.
But this moment was special.
He was introducing the woman he would spend the rest of his life with to pleasure.
And hell, wasn’t that a thought?
Until today, he’d never fathomed taking a wife. Not in any seriousness, no matter how Theo had urged him. Now, though, he couldn’t imagine leaving this room and allowing any other entitled bastard to lay his hands on Sophie Carlisle.
Pink flesh peeked out from within a soft thatch of curls that was a paler shade of copper than her hair. He pressed a kiss to her and then nuzzled, his tongue darting out to taste her. As he’d suspected, she was sweet as honey and throbbing with the need for attention.
He tasted her again, sliding his tongue into her depths, smiling against her when she whimpered. “Is my beard too rough?”
Her thighs tightened around his face. “I like it.”
Fuck. His cock strained against his trousers.
He buried his face between her legs and rubbed his cheeks back and forth like a cat. She moaned, her hips working as she did her best to ride his face without any idea of what she was seeking.
He speared her with his tongue and moved his lips against her, providing the friction she needed. She whimpered and clenched around him. If she kept it up, he’d be struggling for breath, but there was absolutely no chance he was stopping.
He worked her with his mouth and tongue until she stiffened and started to cry out, only for the sound to cut off as she spasmed around his tongue.
He kept his mouth on her as she came down, only drawing back when she sighed contentedly and went lax against him.
She turned her head lazily to meet his eyes. Her cheeks were pink, her pupils blown. “Can we do that all the time?”
He chuckled and adjusted his cock to relieve some of the pressure. “Whenever you like, my little firebrand.”
Grabbing her skirt and petticoat, he started to ease them down, but before he’d gotten farther than her knees, someone knocked on the door.
They both froze.
Nicholas stared at Sophie, his eyes wide. Who the hell was calling on her after she’d retired for the evening?
It had better not be that arsehole Sylvestor.
“Sophie?” Lady Carlisle called through the door.
Hell. It was Sophie’s mother. Baron Sylvestor might have been preferable.
Sophie slung her legs off the bed and stood, her skirt falling into place. She motioned Nicholas toward the curtains and hissed, “Hide.”
His mouth fell open. She actually expected him to find somewhere to hide while she opened the door, looking as if she’d just been thoroughly debauched?
Was she insane?
“Go,” she mouthed, gesturing again.
Slowly, he made his way to the curtain and slipped behind it. At least the wardrobe was immediately beside the curtain, so it wouldn’t be so obvious there was someone standing there.
Sophie unlocked the bedroom door and opened it. “Good evening, Mother. Can I help you with something?”
Silence for a moment.
“I just wanted to check on you,” Lady Carlisle replied. “You departed dinner abruptly, and Baron Sylvestor said you were unwell. You look rather flushed, my dear. Let me check your temperature.”
A laugh bubbled from Nicholas before he could stop it. He clapped his hand over his mouth and held his breath, praying like hell that neither lady had heard him.