Stephanie Laurens - A Lady of Expectations

His gaze did not leave hers. Sophie could barely think. Again, she shook her head. “I can’t marry you, Jack.”

“Why not?”

Sophie eyed him warily. “You wouldn’t understand if I explained.”

“Try me.”

Pressing her lips together, Sophie just shook her head. She knew she was right; she also knew he wouldn’t agree.

To her dismay, a slow, thoroughly rakish smile lit Jack’s face. He sighed. “You’ll tell me eventually, Sophie.”

His tone was light, quite unconcerned. Sophie blinked and saw him look down. She followed his gaze-and gasped.

“Jack! What on earth are you doing?” Sophie batted ineffectually at his hands, busy with the buttons of her gown. Jack laughed and drew her closer, so that she couldn’t reach his nimble fingers. Then the gown was open and his long fingers slipped inside. They closed about her breast; Sophie’s knees shook.

“Sophie-” For an instant, Jack closed his eyes, his hand firming about her soft flesh. Then he bent his head and caught her lips with his.

For a giddy moment, a tide of delight caught Sophie up and whirled her about. Then Jack drew his lips from hers and the sensation receded, leaving a warm glow in its wake. Desperate, Sophie clung to reality. “What are you doing?” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

“Seducing you,” came the uncompromising reply.

Sophie’s eyes flew open. She felt Jack’s lips on her throat, trailing fire over her suddenly heated skin. She shuddered, then glanced wildly about the room-what she could see of it beyond his shoulders. “Here?” Her mind refused to accept the notion. The room was bare of all furniture, no chaise or day-bed, not even an armchair. He had to be teasing.

She felt rather than heard Jack’s chuckle. “The table.”

The table? Sophie’s shocked gaze swung to the innocent wooden table, now standing by the wall. Then she looked back at Jack, into his heated gaze. “No,” she said, then blushed furiously at the question in her tone.

Jack’s gaze grew warmer. “It’s easy,” he murmured, bending his head to drop wicked little kisses behind her ear. “I’ll show you.”

“No.” This time, Sophie got the intonation right. But her eyes closed and her fingers sank into Jack’s shoulders as he continued to caress her.

“But yes, sweet Sophie,” Jack whispered in her ear. “Unless you can give me a good reason why not.”

Sophie knew there had to be hundreds of reasons-but she could think of only one. The one he wanted to hear. She opened her eyes and found his face. She tried to glare. His fingers shifted beneath her bodice; Sophie sucked in a breath. She didn’t have the courage to call his bluff. He probably wasn’t bluffing. “All right,” she said and felt his fingers still. She leaned against him, seeking his strength as she sought for her words. “I told you I’m a lady of expectations, nothing more,” she began.

“And I’ve told you that doesn’t matter.”

“But it does.” Sophie glanced up, into the warm blue eyes so close to hers. She put all the pleading sincerity she could into her eyes, her voice. “Your dreams are mine: a home, a family, estates to look after. But they’ll remain nothing but dreams if you don’t marry well. You know that.”

She saw his face still, his expression sober. Sophie clung to him and willed him to understand.

Her heart was in her eyes, there for Jack to see. He drank in the sight, then closed his eyes against the pain behind. He dropped his forehead to hers and groaned. “Sophie, you have my heartfelt apologies.”

Sophie felt like sagging-with relief or was it defeat?

“I should have told you long ago.” Jack pressed a soft kiss against her temple, hugging her to him.

Sophie frowned and pushed back to look up at him. “Told me what?”

Jack smiled crookedly. “That I’m horrendously wealthy-disgustingly rich.”

Sophie’s face crumpled; her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Jack,” she finally got out around the constriction in her throat. “Don’t.” Abruptly, she buried her face in his shoulder.

It was Jack’s turn to frown and try to hold her away. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t lie,” Sophie mumbled against his coat.

Jack stiffened. Thunderstruck, he stared down at the woman in his arms. “Sophie, I’m not lying.”

She looked up, her eyes swimming, softly blue, her lips lifting in a heart-rending smile. She raised a hand to his face. “It’s no use, Jack. We both know the truth.”

“No, we do not.” Jack withdrew his hand from her breast and caught her hand, holding it tightly. “Sophie, I swear I’m rich.” When she simply smiled, mistily disbelieving, he swore. “Very well. We’ll go and ask your aunt.”

The look Sophie sent him made Jack grimace. “All right, not Lucilla. Horatio, then. I assume you’ll accept your uncle’s word on my finances?”

Surprised, Sophie frowned. Horatio, she well knew, was a man of his word. Not even for love would he so much as bend the truth. And Jack was suggesting Horatio would bear out his claims. “But my uncle’s just left. We don’t know when he’ll return.”

Jack swore some more, distinctly colourfully. He considered his options, but the only others who knew of his recent windfall were relatives, friends or employees, none of whom Sophie would believe. “Very well.” Grimly, he surveyed Sophie’s doubting expression. “We’ll wait until he returns.”

Her mind reeling, Sophie nodded, struggling to see her way forward. She glanced down, and blushed rosily. Tugging her fingers from Jack’s clasp, she drew back enough to do up the buttons of her gown. Whatever the truth, she would have to keep Jack at arm’s length until Horatio returned-or it wouldn’t matter what her uncle said.

“Sophie?” Jack sensed her withdrawal. He had half a mind to draw her back to him, back into his arms where she belonged.

From under her lashes, Sophie glanced up at him almost guiltily. “Ah, yes.” She tried to step back but Jack’s arm was firm about her waist. “Now, Jack,” she protested, as she felt his arm tighten. She braced her hands against his chest. “We’ve agreed, have we not?” The light in his eyes left her breathless. “We’ll wait until my uncle returns.”

Jack’s blue eyes narrowed. “Sophie…” His gaze met hers, full of breathless anticipation, yet, for all that, quite determined. Jack heaved a disgusted sigh. “Very well,” he bit out. “But only until your uncle returns-agreed?”

Sophie hesitated, then nodded.

“And you’ll marry me three weeks after that.”

It was not a question; Sophie only just stopped her nod.

“And furthermore,” Jack continued, his blue gaze holding hers, “if I’m to toe the line until your uncle gets back, then so shall you.”

“Me?”

“No more flirting with your suitors-other than me.”

“I do not flirt.” With an offended air, Sophie drew back.

“And no more waltzing with anyone but me.”

“That’s outrageous!” Sophie disengaged from Jack’s arms. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I know only too well,” Jack growled, letting her go. “Fair’s fair, Sophie. No more going to supper with any gentleman but me-and certainly no driving or going apart with anyone else.”

Smoothing down her skirts, Sophie humphed.

Jack caught her chin on his hand and tipped her head up until her eyes met his. “Are we agreed, Sophie?”

Sophie could feel her pulse racing. Her eyes met his, intensely blue, and she felt like she was drowning. His face, all hard angles and planes, was very near, his lips, hard and finely chiselled, but inches away. “Yes,” she whispered and breathed again when he released her.

With his customary grace, Jack offered her his arm.

Drawing her dignity about her, Sophie picked up her basket and placed her hand on his sleeve. She allowed him to lead her down the steps and back towards the house, all the way struggling to cope with the sensation of being balanced on a knife-edge. Determined to give the reprobate by her side no inkling of her difficulty, she kept her gaze on the scenery and her head very high.

Jack viewed the sight through narrowed eyes. Then he smiled, slowly, and started to plan.

THE PARTY broke up the next morning. By then, everyone was aware that something had changed, that Jack stood, in some unspecified way, as Sophie’s protector. Despite her disapproval of his tactics, Sophie could not help feeling grateful, especially when he helped shoulder the responsibility for their return to the capital. Even with Lucilla all but fully recovered, with her uncle absent, she had not been looking forward to travelling with all her cousins, Toby the only adult male in sight.

But by mid-morning, when she emerged from the door of her great-aunt’s home, all was under control. Her younger cousins were to ride as before, much to their delight. With Jack, Toby and Ned to keep them in line, Sophie had no residual qualms. The carriage stood waiting, Clarissa already aboard. Her arms full of rugs and cushions, Sophie glanced back.

Lucilla came slowly through the hall, leaning heavily on Jack’s arm. Although still wan, her aunt showed no signs of faintness. Sophie turned and hurried down the steps to prepare Lucilla’s seat in the carriage.

At the top of the steps, Lucilla paused to breathe in the crisp morning air. Blue skies had returned; fluffy white clouds held no lingering menace. With a small, highly satisfied smile, she glanced at Jack beside her. “I’m very glad you did not disappoint me, Mr. Lester.”

Recalled from his study of Sophie’s curvaceous rear, neatly outlined as she stood on the carriage step and leaned in, Jack looked down at Lucilla, one brow slowly rising. “That was never my intention, ma’am.”

Lucilla’s smile broadened. “I’m so glad,” she said, patting his arm. “Now, if you’ll give me your arm…?”