One Night Scandal, page 5
“I am sure you have,” he said, strolling into the room.
Hendricks looked over at her, and she nodded at the unasked question. Leaving the room quietly, he closed the door.
“Please have a seat across from me at the table.” Sophie returned to her chair.
“I was told you might be able to assist me in finding someone.” Nicholas took the seat across from her.
“Perhaps,” she answered vaguely. “What do you want from me?”
His full lips moved upward. “I have an earring and would like to locate its owner.”
“My intuition is not always perfect, but many times I can read the emotions left on an item.”
“I see.”
“Why do you want to find this person?”
“I would like to know that she is all right. I would like to know more about her. When we met, she did not give me much information about herself.”
Sophie looked down at her hands. “Sometimes people need to keep secrets, my lord. As such, I may not be able to read everything and give you the answers you are looking for.”
“I’d heard you were the best,” he commented.
Ignoring his comment, she said, “Let me see the item.”
He held out her earring until she grabbed it from him. Somehow, she had to get him to leave the earring here with her.
“Do you see anything?” he pried.
Sophie closed her eyes and actually concentrated on the earring. Once again, she saw nothing. In her mind’s eye, she should have seen all that occurred between them. But other than that one night in Venice, she’d never clearly seen or read anything regarding her future.
“Well?” he asked with a little impatience tracing through his voice.
She had to tell him something. “You met in Italy . . . I see water all around . . . Venice, I believe.”
“Yes.”
She wondered why she heard humor in his reply. “Yes, Venice. She was injured when wearing the earring . . . but you saved her.” For a little dramatic effect, she added, “Oh, my.”
“What is it?”
“You were lovers,” she whispered.
“Yes, we were.”
Sophie’s muscles tensed at the seductive sound of his voice. Sitting across the table from him with her eyes shuttered, she remembered everything they had done that night. This had to stop before she blurted out the truth of her identity.
“She does not wish to be found.”
“What?” he said roughly.
“She believes it was a mistake. Therefore, I cannot get any further information from the earring.” She opened her eyes but avoided his piercing gaze. Handing him the earring, she softly said, “I am sorry.”
“Are you?” he whispered as his eyes narrowed.
She frowned and looked down at the table to evade his prying stare. “I wish I could help you. But there is nothing left to say.” She cleared her throat and looked longingly at the earring her brother had given her. “If you would like, I shall keep the earring and try again later when no one is around. Sometimes the uninterrupted silence helps me concentrate.”
“Ah,” he said, leaning back slightly in his chair. He snatched the earring from her open hand. “I do not think I can part with it yet. Sentimental value, you see.”
“Oh.” Disappointment washed over her until she realized his keeping the earring meant he must care . . . at least slightly. She tamped down the exciting idea. While it was a thrilling sentiment, it did not matter if he cared for her. She was too far below his station.
Perhaps Somerton could pilfer the earring from him. She so wanted her earring returned.
“You appear distraught that I won’t give the earring to you. Now, why would that be?”
She blinked and finally looked him in the eye. “I am certainly not distraught or disheartened that you wish to retain your keepsake from an illicit liaison.”
“Illicit?” His low husky laugh brought gooseflesh to her arms. “There was nothing illicit about it.” He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Sensual. Passionate. Erotic. But not illicit.”
Sophie swallowed, unable to move her gaze away from his warm brown eyes. She could lose herself in his eyes. Her lips parted slightly, and she wished he would lean just a little closer to kiss her. To feel the scintillating sensation of his lips on hers would be far too difficult to resist. A mere kiss would never be enough.
She jerked back against her chair. A smug smile lifted his lips as one brow arched at her. It was almost as if he knew what she’d been thinking! He couldn’t possibly know.
He leaned back almost tipping his chair. “So tell me, Miss Reynard, have you ever been to Venice?”
“No,” she lied and immediately regretted it. With their mutual friends, he could easily discover she had been in Venice only a few weeks ago.
“Never?”
She shook her head. Now that she’d started the lie, there was no going back. “No.”
“You should travel.” He scraped back his chair and walked closer to the fireplace. He held out his hands to the fire as if chilled.
“Lord Ancroft, I do not believe there is anything else I can tell you. Perhaps you should leave now.”
He leaned against the mantel and smiled at her. “Do you really think I should leave already?”
“Yes,” she whispered. A quick flash of fear shot through her. The man was dangerous on so many levels.
“But we have so much more to discuss.”
“Do we?” Sophie’s nerves tingled. “What exactly do we need to discuss?”
“Why a beautiful woman like you would lie to me.” He slowly walked closer until he stood behind her chair.
“What have I lied to you about?” she demanded.
“So much.” His fingers grazed the back of her neck then untied her turban.
“What are you doing?” She started to move from her chair but his hands clasped onto her shoulders forcing her to remain seated.
He loosened her hair, each pin tinkling against the wood floor.
“If you don’t stop, I shall call my footman!”
He bent down and grazed his warm lips across her neck. She trembled from the sensation, remembering far too well exactly how sweet his kisses tasted. God, she wanted to taste him again.
She couldn’t stop her head from leaning back and tilting, allowing him better access to her neck. His breath warmed her as his mouth closed over the sensitive area where her shoulder met her neck. She wanted to be closer to his mouth, to him. The hard grip he had on her shoulders lightened, and his thumbs gently caressed her.
What was it about this man that caused her to react so passionately? She wanted to turn around and fall into his arms for the rest of the night. His lips moved slowly up her neck. His tongue traced the outer shell of her ear until she quivered with yearning.
“I haven’t heard you call for a footman yet,” he whispered in her ear.
“Hendricks,” she called halfheartedly.
“He will never hear that.” He laughed softly. “You must try harder.”
She needed to do just that. But his hot mouth returned to her neck and all thoughts of calling for assistance faded. His tongue swirled against her skin as his hands slid down her arms. Her body screamed for more than this gentle seduction, but he didn’t seem to hear.
Slowly, his hands skimmed across her breasts, teasing her through her dress, chemise, and stays. One hand moved away as the other continued to rub against her breast. She closed her eyes and he moved away. His booted footfalls stopped. Opening her eyes, she could only stare at the look of betrayal on his face.
He knew.
“Tell Sophia that I do not like liars.”
He turned to leave but she had to stop him. She had to explain why she’d told him she wanted him to leave her alone.
“Nicholas, wait.”
Chapter 5
Nicholas had his hand on the door handle when her voice stopped him cold. Walking away from her when he was rock hard with desire nearly killed him. He’d told himself it was the only way to teach her a lesson. Yet, he felt as if he was the one being punished, not her.
“What do you want, Sophia? Or is it Sophie?”
“It is Sophie, but I think you already knew that, didn’t you, Nico?”
He turned and stared at her. Seeing her disheveled and absolutely sensual appearance, his grip tightened on the door handle. Walk away, his brain told him. But he could not get his feet to move.
“Yes, I knew your name and that you were the woman from Venice. So why did you lie to me?”
She looked away from him. “I didn’t lie about everything. I do wish to be left alone.”
“Liar,” he whispered. Loneliness poured from her soul. He knew the feeling all too well.
“I am not the one you are looking for.”
“I am looking for the woman who fell into bed with me in Venice. I want to know who she is, and why she can’t be truthful with me. And why she left without even leaving me a note.”
She stood quickly. “And what about you? Why didn’t you tell me you were English? Why didn’t you tell me you were Elizabeth’s cousin? Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with Jennette?” She clapped her hand over her mouth.
“What did you say?” he stalked her with a deep scowl. “How the bloody hell did you know I was in love with Jennette?”
He stopped only when he was directly in front of her. Her gray eyes widened. No one knew of his feelings for Jennette.
“How did you know?” he demanded again.
“I’m a medium,” she retorted.
“Then why didn’t you know I was English? If you’re such an all-powerful medium, why did you continue speaking Italian to me? Why didn’t you know I was Elizabeth’s cousin?”
Her lower lip trembled slightly. “I read the letter on your desk from her,” she finally admitted.
His brows furrowed deeper. He’d purposely kept that note on him so no one would believe there were any improper feelings toward Jennette. “There is nothing in that note that would give anyone an indication that I had feelings for her.”
“You’re right.” She took a step backward. “So I must be mistaken.”
“How did you know?” He moved closer.
“I had to pick up the note to read it,” she answered as if that would make him understand her logic.
“And?”
“And I could read your emotions all over that letter. You have read that note so many times I could not begin to count. You keep the letter with you in your pocket. Even now, when you come to me looking for a woman you slept with in Venice, the note is on you.”
She turned away and almost tripped over her chair. He reached out to keep her from falling.
“Don’t touch me,” she cried, pounding her fist on the table.
“I can’t seem to stop,” he admitted. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
She kept her back turned away from him. “Why did it have to be you?” she mumbled.
He spun her around to face him. He was certain he’d heard her correctly but wanted confirmation. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” She looked away from him.
He didn’t quite believe all this medium nonsense. People couldn’t read other’s future or thoughts. It was a mad idea.
Staring down at her forlorn face, frustration grew inside of him. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, comfort her and make love to her. But he couldn’t do any of those things. She knew the secret he’d been keeping from everyone. Nevertheless, his hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs caressed her cheekbones, and with only a moment of hesitation, his lips touched hers.
What was wrong with him? He loved Jennette, and yet, he could not stop thinking about Sophie. Maybe she was the key to forgetting Jennette.
He felt her resistance and almost smiled. She seemed to be trying not to respond to his persuasion, but as her lips parted, she failed. He should walk away from her, leave before things went too far, but as her velvety tongue touched his, he was lost. Drowning in the passion that flared when she was near, he drew his hand down her back and cupped her derrière.
She moaned as he brought her roughly against his hard erection. He brought his fingers up the length of her back until he found the small buttons on her gown. Quickly unbuttoning her dress, he started to slide the silk down her body.
“What are you doing?” she whispered frantically. “What are we doing?”
Nicholas stared down at her trying to catch his breath. “Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered, stepping away from her.
Sophie stared at his strong back, silhouetted by the fire. She shoved the sleeves of her silk dress back up. “It wasn’t just you,” she whispered.
“I realize that,” he said. “But I started it.”
“This time.” Her heart still pounded in her chest. “I believe last time was all me.”
“Well, Miss Matchmaker, what exactly does it mean when two people cannot seem to keep their hands off each other?” He moved to sit in the wingback chair by the fireplace.
“Lust,” she whispered with a little shrug. “My mother was an actress and a mistress to several men. She told me all about lust and how both dangerous and powerful it can be.”
“Powerful?” he said with a laugh.
“You don’t believe me?” She strolled toward him intent on teaching him the power of lust. Placing her arms on his chair, she leaned over until her dress gaped. His gaze went to her breasts. His eyes darkened as he stared at her.
“Perhaps I was wrong,” he said softly.
“Oh?”
His lips lifted in a large smile revealing deep dimples. “I would give just about anything to make love with you again.”
“Would you?”
“I would. But tell me,” he said, skimming a finger across the top of her breasts, “does this power work in both directions?”
“What do you mean?” She attempted to ignore the shiver of desire that went directly toward her belly.
He glided his hands lower until he cupped her breasts. His thumbs gently caressing them until they ached to be touched with his bare hands or better yet, his mouth. “Would I possess such power over you?”
She should tell him that he would not, but as his hands slid behind her and brought her down to straddle his lap, she could only nod.
His smile widened again. “So we appear to be exactly where we were five minutes ago.”
Feeling his hard erection through her drawers made her moist and warm and unable to think about anything but him. She closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to draw some strength from a deep recess in her. But as she opened her eyes again, her weakness for his kisses overcame her again. She didn’t want to be strong. She wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin, feel his strength as he entered her, and watch his face as he succumbed to the pleasure they would both experience.
She leaned in closer and brought her lips to his mouth. Instantly, his hand cupped her neck, bringing her tighter to him. His mouth opened to her and his tongue played with hers. With her desire rippling through her, she tugged at his cravat eager to feel his skin under her fingers.
His hands moved to her gown and finally lowered the bodice to her waist. Their kisses became frantic as passion overtook them. She wanted him now, deep inside her, stroking her, sending her higher.
With a groan, she broke away from his mouth and attacked the buttons on his waistcoat. As her fingers fumbled with the buttons, he pushed them aside and ripped at his clothing until he was bare chested with only his trousers in the way.
“Sophie,” he groaned and pulled her closer again. “This is insane.”
“I know,” she mumbled against his lips.
As he kissed her again, he loosened her stays and finally unlaced them and tossed them to the floor. He brought her close and moved her chemise down to her waist, allowing unfettered access to her breasts. Suckling her deeply, his fingers slowly bunched up her skirts. He fumbled with the buttons on his trousers and shifted them both.
His hard cock rubbed against her bare skin, sliding against her wet nub until she moaned. He moved her hips upward and then down on the full length of him. Sophie gasped as he filled her. There was no stinging, no pain, only a sensual feeling of fullness that made her quiver.
“Oh, Nicholas,” she whispered.
“Better than last time?” he mumbled against her neck.
“Yes.”
He placed his hands on her hips and showed her how to move up and down the length of him. Each movement brought tremors of pleasure through her. As she increased the speed, tremors turned to full quaking. Knowing she was not about to control the climax rushing through her, she closed her eyes and shook with passion.
In the midst of such pleasure, she felt him bring her hips down on him one last time. He groaned her name as she watched his handsome face filled with satisfaction.
But as she stared down at him, she realized one horrible thing. She had done it again. She had let her passion override her sensibilities, and her knowledge of preventing a child. Now she would have another few weeks of waiting and praying she hadn’t gotten herself in trouble.
Nicholas leaned his head back against the chair as his heart thundered in his chest. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He’d always been able to control his reaction to a woman. But with Sophie, everything was different. Her kisses tasted sweeter and her body softer than any other woman’s.
She rested her head on his shoulder, and he wondered at her thoughts. Most likely, she wanted marriage, he realized. But as he had that niggling notion, dreadful thoughts came to mind. Could she have known who he was in Venice? Was it possible that she had followed him in order to get him into bed? Women had been trying to trap him into marriage since he was eighteen.
A sad sounding sigh escaped from her. She lifted her head and stared down at him. “No,” she whispered.
“Pardon?”
“I said, no.” She kissed his lips softly. “I did not follow you to Venice. And we both know marriage is not a possibility.”
His muscles tensed. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
Her eyes twinkled in the dim light of the candles. “We are connected.” She shook her head as he looked down to where they were joined. “I meant emotionally. Whatever is between us allows me to sometimes read your thoughts, especially when we are this . . . intimate.”
