The Infamous Rogue Part 7

"Lady Rosamond will marry wel and produce an heir. The earl's estate will be secured."

"I see."

James nabbed her knight.

d.a.m.n him!

"Must you talk, Black Hawk?"

"Am I disturbing your concentration? My apologies. I won't say another word."

And the b.l.o.o.d.y cutthroat was true to his word. The remainder of the game was played out in silence. An hour later, exhausted, Sophia sensed her heart flutter as she spotted the weakness on the board.

Her brain throbbed. She scanned all the remaining pieces to make sure she wasn't imagining their positions before she moved the queen forward to corner the jade king.

"Checkmate," she whispered.

James frowned. He stared at the board for a few moments before he lifted his own somnolent eyes to meet hers. "You win, sweetheart...ask anything of me you wish."

She bristled at the expression. She remembered the last time they had played chess, the last time she had heard him say those words: Ask anything of me you wish.

Marry me, she had asked him-only to be rebuffed.

She dismissed the smarting pain in her breast. "Promise me you will not reveal our past to anyone."

He looked at her for a good few seconds before he said, "I promise."

Her breastbone shuddered with relief...but the joy was tempered by one haunting thought.

"You seem uncertain," he said darkly. "Do you think the barbarian too dishonorable to respect a challenge loss?"

She looked at him pointedly. "You dishonored it once before."

His lips twitched. "My word is not enough, then? You really have changed," he said in a soft and chastising manner. "But so have I."

She ignored the contempt in his voice. Let him huff at the "change" in her all he liked, she didn't care. She had suffered enough hardship at the man's hands to feel indifferent to his pompous scorn. All she wanted was his a.s.surance, his real a.s.surance he would keep quiet about the past.

"Very well," he said in a rough whisper. "I promise on my father's grave I will not betray our past."

The oath was sufficient. He had adored and re spected his father. He would not dishonor the man's name by breaking the vow, she was sure.

"Thank you." She collected the players and collapsed the board, locking the box. "I should return to Lady Lucas."

"I'll call for the carriage to take you home."

"No!" She lifted from the chair and adjusted her mantle before she took the box and approached the door. "I can't exit your carriage in the dead of night."

He stood, too. "But you can sneak into my house in the dead of night?"

She sniffed. "No one witnessed me steal into the house."

"Ever the wildcat." He perused her with a long and familiar stare. "You haven't really changed, Sophia. Lady Lucas would not be pleased."

She stiffened at the implication. "I have changed. I don't flout convention anymore."

He slowly lifted a brow.

She lifted a forefinger. "One time. And only because I needed to speak with you and settle this matter. Never again!"

"Fine." He crossed the floor and disappeared inside the dressing room. "I'll escort you home, then."

The idea sounded just as dangerous. "What if we're spotted together?" she called after him. "I'll just hire a hackney coach."

"Then I'll follow behind you and the cab at a reasonable distance." He returned from the other room. "But you are not going home alone!"

She snorted at the man's whimsical gallantry, but she didn't contest the point further. So long as he honored his word and maintained a sensible distance behind her, she would avoid scandal.

And just to be sure he honored his word, she strutted across the room and pushed a chair against the wall. She lifted her skirts and stepped onto the cushioned seat before she yanked the short blade from the wal and tucked it back into her bodice.

Chapter 5.

I t was a warm summer day for a picnic. The tart lemonade was a cool and welcome refreshment. Sophia sat on the large white blanket purled with golden thread, admiring the bucolic landscape. She eyed the great house on the hill flanked by dense woods. The structure was two floors high, with rows of symmetrical windows and a sandy stone facade. The bright green turf stretched for acres in front of the house, the lazy countryside interrupted by a steady stream that cut across the rolling lawn and reached deep into the forest.

The air was thick. Sophia was sheltered under an old and gnarled oak. The wide canopy of leaves offered shade, but the heat remained. She removed the delicate fan from her reticule and swatted at the humidity. But it wasn't just the blistering weather making her uncomfortable.

There was a round of twitters.

Sophia was circled by pretty, spry debutantes fresh from finishing school. The Honorable Anastasia Bedford was the daughter of a baron. She boasted a fine pedigree that included foreign royalty. Miss Imogen Rayne wasn't so well connected; however, the banker's daughter was an accomplished singer, pianist, and multilinguist. Each la.s.s possessed fine aristocratic traits, breeding and talent respectively. And both were Lady Rosamond's dearest friends...making Sophia feel like the senescent matriarch in the group.

The giggling quieted as the girls sobered.

Rosamond glanced around the terrain, making sure they were all alone before she whispered earnestly, "We must talk about the ball, Miss Dawson."

A spurt of alarm entered Sophia's breast. "What about the bal ?"

"You created a stir," she said. "Even my brother is confounded."

Sophia swallowed a groan. She eyed Lady Lucas. She and the other chaperones crossed a small wood bridge, following the earl on a tour of the grounds. It was too late to summon the woman to return, so Sophia fixed her thoughts firmly on the matron's teachings and prepared to confront the dire matter herself.

"I don't know what you mean, my lady." The moisture between her fingers was uncomfortable, and Sophia flexed them in an effort to ease the discomfort. She had worked so hard to charm the earl, struggled to become a lady of manner and grace. Had one unfortunate waltz with the black devil ruined her courtship with Lord Baine? "How did I create a stir?"

"As the object of Captain Hawkins's affection!"

Sophia was nauseous. She wasn't accustomed to the wretched sensation. She had sailed aboard her father's pirate ship on more than one occasion. She had st.u.r.dy sea legs.

However, she wasn't able to control the spinning images in her head, making her sick with vertigo.

"Are you all right, Miss Dawson?" Imogen pressed her palm to Sophia's wrist. "You look unwell."

"I'm fine."

But Sophia wasn't fine. She was breathing hard, moisture pooling between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She glanced at the circle of ladies. The looks!

Her head pulsed. The quiet chatter slowly evolved into a cacophony of laughter. The curious stares turned into cold and deliberate snubs.

"Well, we are all impressed with your charms, Miss Dawson," said Rosamond.

Sophia beat the fan in quick strokes, overwhelmed by giddiness. Had James betrayed her? It seemed impossible. Surely he wouldn't dishonor his beloved father's name by breaking his vow. And yet..."My charms?"

Anastasia wrinkled her nose, as if to dispute Rosamond's unanimous claim that they were all impressed with her charms.

"Oh yes." Rosamond reached for a scone and smeared it with strawberry jam. "After four years in polite society, the surly captain has finally danced!"

Sophia was dumbfounded. "What?"

"You managed to capture the interest of the coldest, most intimidating bachelor in London." Rosamond devoured the scone. "Brava!"

The blinding pressure in Sophia's skul weakened. She wasn't so sure she wanted the dubious distinction. Had the black devil really not danced a single dance since he'd entered society?

And then the throbbing pinch between her brows returned. It was just like the scoundrel to burden her with that distinction, bringing them both unwelcome attention.

We mustn't let the earl think another man is courting you. Lord Baine is a gentleman.

He might step aside if he believes the captain is interested in you...or he might search elsewhere for a bride if he thinks you are attached to the captain.

Sophia had a biting impulse to gut the ruthless brigand as soon as she saw him. Did the earl suspect her smitten with the marauding rogue? He might have sensed the friction between her and Black Hawk on the dance floor. Had he mistaken it for pa.s.sion?

"And yet I pity you, Miss Dawson." Anastasia sipped her fruit juice with poise. "To be the object of interest to such a barbarian? How you must suffer!"

"The captain is a beast," Rosamond was quick to a.s.sent. "I don't know why Max befriended him."

Sophia glanced at the pert chit. She wasn't accustomed to keeping her feelings, her ideas, even her impulses in check. But she didn't want to make a social blunder. She had already wooed disaster when she had danced with the pirate captain at the bal . She didn't want to make another faux pas. She didn't want to side with the brigand and make it seem like she was smitten with the rogue.

Sophia suspected the snooty Anastasia would jump on that tidbit of gossip and ruin her prospects before sundown. And the captain was a barbarian. Sophia wholly endorsed the claim herself. However, his invitation to the house party was at the behest of Lady Rosamond. What had provoked the girl's scorn? Sophia didn't know. And she didn't want to antagonize the earl's sister by making unsolicited inquiries. She might need Rosamond's support to win the earl's hand. She didn't want to make an enemy of the chit.

"Then it's true?" said Anastasia. "The barbarian is coming to the picnic?"

"Yes," returned Rosamond tersely. "And he's going to stay with us for a few days."

Anastasia made a moue before she shifted her cutting regard to Sophia again. "Why did you dance with the barbarian, Miss Dawson? I would have feigned an injury to my ankle."

Imogen lowered her gaze and stared at the picnic blanket in discomfort.

Sophia took in a firm breath. "He is the earl's friend, as Lady Rosamond remarked."

James was nothing of the sort, but if Rosamond wanted to perpetuate the fib for some obscure reason, Sophia was going to let her. "It would have been rude to refuse him."

"That is just what I thought." Rosamond smiled. "You are too kind, Miss Dawson."

Anastasia sniffed. "Yes, very charitable."

Imogen lifted the plate of pastries. "More scones, ladies?"

Sophia was breathless and needed a moment to compose herself. She lifted to her shaky feet. "If you will excuse me, ladies, I think I'll go for a walk. The grounds here are so lovely."

Rosamond beamed with pride.

"You shouldn't spend so much time in the sun, Miss Dawson. You're positively brown!" Anastasia offered her something fril y. "Here. Take my parasol."

Sophia claimed the gift and mustered a courteous "You're too kind, Miss Bedford."

She quietly removed herself from the picnic. As she crossed the arched bridge and approached the woods, she resisted the impulse to toss the parasol into the bush. She jabbed the pristine tip into the dirt path instead, using it as a walking stick.

Sophia glanced down at her hands. She wasn't brown. She wasn't even tanned...She examined her fingers more closely. The skin looked a little dirty. She wiped her hand against her dress, but the soft glow was still there.

She grimaced. It might be the shade from the foliage making her flesh seem darker than it really was. But then she enjoyed the sun's warm rays. And she had deep brown hair and eyes. She wasn't fair like Rosamond and the other two ladies. Perhaps she wasn't so very pale, after al ?

She intended to talk to Lady Lucas about the matter. There might be a cream or a powder she could apply to soften her complexion and make it more attractive. She had even heard lemon juice mixed with brandy and milk created a bleach for the skin. She would have to experiment.

Sophia needed to cool her temper-and her toes. The inviting pitter of the water lured her to the stream's intimate sh.o.r.es, and she paused beside the bank to enjoy the brisker air.

The gla.s.sy ripples looked so tempting; her sweaty toes twitched.

Sophia dropped the parasol. She crouched to peel away the laces before she slipped off her leather shoes. Mindful she was alone, she rolled down her white silk stockings and set them aside, too.

The cool gra.s.s between her toes was already a welcome treat, but she wanted a deeper soak. She lifted her skirts and tucked the fabric against her midriff to prevent the gra.s.s from smearing the soft, white fabric. With a hearty sigh, she settled beside the water and dipped her feet into the refreshing pool.

The water rushed over her ankles and calves, washing away the late summer heat, the irritation. For a quiet moment the world righted itself, and she flicked her toes, splashing spray.

The fine hairs on the back of her head slowly spiked. A shiver touched her spine as a pair of eyes summoned all her senses to obey.

Black Hawk!

Stay calm, she thought. Ignore the barbarian.

But she couldn't dismiss James's sharp stare piercing her spine. She had always been able to detect his eyes on her. She remembered tending to the orchids near their plantation house, and pausing because she had sensed him watching her. There had been nothing to indicate he had entered the garden: no sound or movement. And yet she had known he was there, silently observing her.

Sophia opened her watery eyes. She hadn't even realized she had closed them at the haunting reflection. It took her a moment to remember she wasn't in Jamaica anymore, but in England.