The Infamous Rogue Part 15

The woman looked aghast. "No, my dear. We wil push the earl to propose."

"How?"

"We will use Captain Hawkins to make the earl jealous."

Sophia's heart dropped. She trembled at the thought of using the captain. She trembled at the thought of what he might do to her "good name" if he ever discovered the ploy.

"But you said scandal will ruin-"

"Yes. Yes. Scandal will ruin a young lady's reputation. But we will not cause a scandal, my dear."

"Then what wil we do?"

"It's obvious the captain is smitten with you."

Blood throbbed in her veins. "It is?"

"He admires you all the time."

Sophia did her utmost to ignore the brigand in public. Did he really admire her "all the time"? Something stirred in her heart at the thought. Something suspiciously akin to sentimentality. She quickly stomped the feeling dead. The blackguard wasn't smitten with her. He just wanted to make her miserable with his piercing stare, unnerve her.

"Do you remember what Lady Rosamond said the other night?"

Sophia's head was unfortunately fil ed with thoughts about Black Hawk; there was room for little else. "No."

"'Let the barbarian admire you from afar,' she had said. And so you will. The more the captain admires you, the more the earl wil see you are worthy of admiration. Jealousy can be a powerful motivator."

Sophia wasn't so sure it was a good idea. She pressed her fingers to her breast to quiet the quick bangs of her heart.

"Come." The matron took her by the hand and dragged her off the bed. "We must prepare the dress you will wear tomorrow. We should pick another sparkling jewel to match the outfit, too. Baubles capture a man's interest."

After another few minutes the matron had decided upon the proper attire, and Sophia had consented to the garb and jewels selected. At last she was alone in the bedchamber.

She rubbed her brow, thinking about tomorrow-and using Black Hawk to make the earl jealous. The matron was adamant the scheme would work. But she wasn't privy to the past between her charge and the captain. The woman would balk if she ever discovered Sophia's sinful affair with the pirate. She would do everything in her power to keep her and the brigand apart then. The matron might even dismiss Sophia from her sight entirely. But she would not suggest Sophia cross swords with the devil, that much was for sure.

Sophia closed her eyes. She really was getting a headache now.

She moved toward the adjoining room. The ceramic tiles were cold beneath her warm feet. A sharp memory returned: cool cedar planking under her bare toes.

Sophia shrugged off the reflection as she shrugged off the silk wrapper. The garment slipped silently to the floor.

She dipped her hand in the water, testing the temperature. It was warm, but not hot.

She made a grimace. Still, she resigned herself to a tepid bath and stepped into the tub.

Quickly her bones sighed. Stiff muscles loosened, too. She watched the dreamy candlelight dance across the wall and lull her senses...but soon a distinct throbbing distracted her from the respite.

Sophia glanced at her leg. The water was still, and she looked at the marks on her outer thigh.

Her leg surfaced. She pressed her knee just under her chin to better examine the scratches.

The skin was flushed, the nail marks a deep red and glossy from the water. She eyed the wound, stinging. Her thoughts pounded in her head, her mind crowded with sensations and memories.

The tub quickly morphed into James; it cradled her as he had cradled her. The water kissed her skin in every place, embracing her.

Sophia skimmed her fingertips lightly across the scratches. Back and forth she stroked the swelling marks, thinking about James. Thinking about the man's touch in the woods...

on the terrace. Such small touches, so short in pleasure. But the impressions lingered afterward.

Sophia slipped her leg beneath the water's pristine surface again. She rested her head against the tub, breathed deep to quash the heat stirring in her belly. But the pirate lord's d.a.m.nable caress still haunted her thoughts, her flesh. His fingers still moved over her body and tortured her senses.

Sophia pressed her hand against her belly. The muscles bounced. She was tight. Even the warm water failed to soothe her, to douse the fire in her blood.

Slowly she slipped her hand between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She rubbed the bone there. Softly at first. Then with more vigor.

She splayed her fingers...reached for her nipples. There she ached. There the nerves thrummed with need and begged for satisfaction.

Sophia brushed her nipple with the pad of her thumb. Her heart beat wild and sure under the ministrations. The sore nub puckered and stretched under her quick and hard strokes. She rubbed and rubbed, searching for release. The tip of her breast was so tender, painfully so.

She bit her bottom lip hard to quell the groan rising in her throat. She moved in the water, undulated her b.u.t.tocks in the pool. Small waves appeared, lapped against her swelling b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She gasped as the pressure and tenderness settled between her thighs. She cursed the brigand for putting her in such a raw and burning state. Cursed him to h.e.l.l.

"Oh, James!"

James stood beside the window, transfixed.

He braced his hands against the frame, arms outstretched. The gla.s.s was open. The breeze whisked inside the room. Curtains quivered. Candlelight flickered.

But he remained still.

Perfectly still.

Across the courtyard was another window. Inside the candle flames danced. Something else danced, too.

Shadows.

James watched the shadows...he watched the naked woman inside the room making the shadows.

He had aroused her. And the satisfaction in his blood was keen. The pain was also intense. The pain he had for her. The ache.

She slipped her hand between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. It was the only part of her he could see from his vantage point. But then...

The hungry growl in his belly slowly turned into a howl as he observed her hand dip below the water.

He imagined her as she tickled her quim. She gasped his name; he heard the begging words in his head.

James touched the scratches at the back of his neck. He spread his fingers apart to match the s.p.a.cing and stroked the wounds, the marks she had made on him.

"Sophia."

He breathed the name like a spell, a curse. She was a witch. She ensnared him with her need, called to him with her desire.

But he would not come to her. He would not give her the pleasure she craved. If she wanted his touch, she would have to come to him-and beg for it.

Chapter 10.

S ophia strolled between the rows of great oak trees lining the thoroughfare. It was a quaint park, wel manicured. The cooing birds, the soft patter of the water were idyllic.

The sounds quieted the fierce storm in her breast.

She had searched for satisfaction last night, searched for pleasure. But her own fingers hadn't smothered the pa.s.sion in her blood. Not al of it. Embers of longing still burned in her belly.

"Isn't it a lovely day, Miss Dawson?"

Sophia moved through the unnatural beauty of the landscape, so symmetrical and tame.

She moved through it like a shadow in a dream.

"Yes, very lovely."

She was exploring the grounds with Imogen. The earl and captain had yet to join the party. The men had gone horseback riding. And Sophia wasn't prepared to endure the company of so many ladies alone. There was a harmony in the air when the gentlemen were present. The ladies tended to keep their sharp tongues somewhat dull.

"I'd like to think we're friends, Imogen."

The woman smiled. "So would I."

"Then please call me Sophia."

Imogen appeared sheepish. "I must admit, I don't make friends easily."

Sophia glanced at her. The young woman wasn't like the other ladies. She didn't have a quick tongue. How had she befriended such a posh brood?

"How long have you been friends with Lady Rosamond?" said Sophia.

"For three years."

"And you met her at finishing school?"

"Oh no! I didn't have the means to attend the best finishing school in Switzerland. I stil don't. Mondie and I met through our parents. My father offered the late earl financial advice."

"I see."

"Mondie befriended me."

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 wel -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.