The Infamous Rogue Part 11

"She plays well."

James whispered the words against her naked throat, stirring the fine hairs there to arousing life.

Sophia suppressed a chill and maintained her eyes forward. She fixed them firmly on the young woman playing the piano. "She does."

The soft tickle of warm breath caressed the k.n.o.b of bone at the base of her skull.

"Has the earl proposed to you yet?"

Her heart was booming in her breast. "No, we've yet to be alone together."

"Hmm."

The soft whistle of air kissed her sensitive skin, and she parted her lips in a quiet gasp of ecstasy.

"There are too many of us here...I wonder why?" he said in a smoldering voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what makes you think the earl is interested in you...and not one of the other eligible females? After al , he didn't invite any other males to the party. I was offered a spontaneous invitation, remember? Perhaps the earl is selecting a bride from among his sister's friends...all three of them."

James moved off.

Sophia quickly looked at the earl. He was seated next to Anastasia...and the chit was whispering into his ear.

Sophia's head throbbed. The pounding music, the lingering heat from James, the startling image of the earl and Anastasia all muddled together in her mind, confusing her senses.

Was Anastasia looking to snag the earl, too? Sophia was certain Imogen wasn't interested in Lord Baine. However, Anastasia had lofty ambitions. And yet she was just a child! Seventeen? Eighteen, maybe?

Sophia watched as the earl smiled at Anastasia.

Was Maximilian interested in the girl?

The prospect seemed outrageous...and yet Anastasia had breeding, royal blood. She was young, but not too young to be married. She was handsome, too...and pretty girls with a good family name wed all the time. Anastasia would make any man a fine wife.

Sophia pressed her palm against her breast to steady her rampant heartbeats. She had come too far to lose the earl now. Anastasia might have a sound pedigree, she might make Maximilian smile with her sharp tongue, but she was still a child. And the earl was a man at thirty-two...and Sophia knew how to seduce a man.

Chapter 7.

S ophia inhaled the heavy scent of the woods. The fresh foliage and blooming wildflowers filled the air with the comforting breath of nature. Together with the tril ing birds and the cool shade of leaves, it was an ideal place to stretch out and dream.

But she didn't have time to engage in the pleasurable pastime. She strolled the dirt path beside the earl, Lady Lucas tagging behind them at a respectable distance.

"I must say...that is a stunning necklace, Miss Dawson."

Sophia smiled. She touched the brilliant gems at her throat with her fingertips. The cold stones had no meaning for her. The sparkling rocks served only one purpose: to help make her the next Countess Baine. She would gladly trade every one of them for the earl's hand in matrimony.

"Thank you, my lord. The necklace was a gift from my father. The diamonds are from India."

She didn't really know where the diamonds were from, but India was a nest of treasures. She suspected the exotic setting sounded charming to the earl. The diamonds certainly looked charming. The man had admired the jewels at her bust for most of their morning walk...he had admired her bust, too.

Sophia made sure to keep her shoulders back. She didn't want to obstruct Maximilian's view of her bosom. She had chosen to wear the most dramatic piece of jewelry she owned, and she had positioned it to sit squarely across her chest, the heavy diamond center kissing the line between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Sophia had learned an important lesson the other night: a lady had to exhibit her best qualities if she wanted to snag a man's interest. It was not enough to talk about her fortune, Sophia needed to show the earl her wealth, bedazzle him with gold and precious stones. To make the riches even lovelier, she had presented the necklace on her smooth skin and ful b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Let the Honorable Anastasia Bedford compete with that!

"Ah, India," he said wistfully. "The jewel of the British crown."

Sophia gestured to the woods with her eyes. "Some might think so, but I feel the jewel you have here is far lovelier."

The earl looked at her thoughtfully. "Thank you, Miss Dawson."

She had stroked his pride with the compliment. She sensed the blush that singed his flesh beneath the layers of formal wear: the stark, white breeches and the stone gray, double-breasted coat.

He possessed everything she desired. He was sophisticated, esteemed by his peers. As the man's wife she was sure to be respected, even admired. She was sure to go through the rest of her life a part of high society...instead of standing at the fringe of it, being ridiculed.

"What do you think of mighty England, Miss Dawson?"

Drab at times. Too rainy. However, she had witnessed some lovely and haunting countryside in the north. She had docked there three months ago. It had seemed like a dream, the purple heather along the moors, the fog. So unfamiliar. It was not Jamaica.

And she had suffered the loss, the separation from her homeland. But with her father gone, there was nothing for her on the tropical island. And so she had set out for the strange new world: mighty England. Everything was so different...except for James.

Sophia's heart swelled at the thought of the pirate. He reminded her of the plantation house. He reminded her of home. The image of him in her head stirred memories, longings for star apples and tender orchids and cool cedar planking under her bare toes.

But he also reminded her of darker times.

She swallowed the bitter memory inside her...the rejection...and returned her thoughts to the conversation at hand. "The company in England is very agreeable." She peeked at the earl to stress he was the agreeable company. "However, I have yet to see much of the countryside. Or London for that matter."

"Do you mean to tel me you haven't been to the races? To the theater? To the opera?"

"I'm afraid not."

"That's monstrous! Lady Lucas is remiss in her duty as chaperone."

Sophia touched his arm. "Oh no! Lady Lucas is very attentive. But it's taken me many weeks to get settled." And learn the customs of high society. "I just haven't had the time to explore the land."

He stared at her fingers.

Sophia sensed a muscle in his forearm dance. She removed her hand, brus.h.i.+ng the bone at his elbow in a deliberate caress. It was a subtle movement, an innocent gesture.

But it was also an intimate act...and it lighted the man's arousal.

She smiled inwardly. She had learned a hard lesson on the island: a respectable woman showed little emotion and had stiff mannerisms. It was deemed a virtue to be as.e.xual, a purity of the soul to have no desires. Too much emotion was considered a form of mental illness; hysteria, she had heard. And she didn't want the earl to think her hysteric.

No man wanted to sully his wife with his s.e.xual cravings. No man wanted his wife to be pa.s.sionate; it was a trait reserved for a mistress. And Sophia would be n.o.body's mistress -ever again. However, every man wanted his wife to be chaste and sensible. That was attractive. That was arousing.

"We must make things right, Miss Dawson."

"How so, my lord?"

"Wil you permit my sister and I to expose you to every bit of culture before the season's end?"

"You are too kind, my lord."

He beamed. "Next week is the final performance at the opera house for the season.

You must allow Lady Rosamond and I to take you to London for the production. We have a private box."

Sophia was filled with restless energy. The earl was smitten with her; she had suspected it al along. The pirate captain's insinuation otherwise was unfounded.

What makes you think the earl is interested in you...and not one of the other eligible females?

She snorted inwardly. If the earl had ever been interested in Anastasia as a potential bride, he wasn't anymore, Sophia was sure.

"I would be honored to attend the opera with you and your sister, my lord."

"Splendid!" He was quiet for a moment before he said, "I do hope you wil allow me to escort you to many other functions, Miss Dawson?"

Sophia wanted to shake the man, make the proposal pop from his tongue. She'd do the b.l.o.o.d.y ch.o.r.e herself if it wasn't considered so scandalous. But she couldn't afford to lose Maximilian, to wait another year for another season and another suitor to come along.

Very soon she would be on the shelf as the pirate captain had so boorishly expressed.

She suppressed a sigh. "I can think of no one I'd rather teach me about this great nation."

The couple walked in quiet.

The earl paused and crouched. "Look, Miss Dawson!" He snapped the blossom from its stem and handed it to her. "Centaurea cya.n.u.s."

Sophia's heart beat swiftly. She accepted the cornflower, a mark of love according to folklore. She peered into the man's soft green eyes, keeping her features prim yet inviting.

Ask me, d.a.m.n it!

But the earl only smiled and resumed the walk.

Sophia huffed quietly and fel in step beside him. She twirled the brilliant blue petals between her fingers, admiring the striking shade. It was such a rich, dark color. So intense, like the tropical sea...like James's eyes.

"I believe the cornflower originated in southern Europe," he said.

She pinched the bloom's underside, forcing the blossom to open even more. She peered into the deep blue center. "No, it was northern Europe."

"I see."

Maximilian fell quiet. A cramp gripped Sophia's breast. She quashed the reflection about the pirate's eyes. The blackguard disturbed her senses even now. He distracted her from the well-orchestrated seduction.

"Let us join the rest of the party for tea, Miss Dawson."

Sophia sensed the earl's withdrawal. She had wounded his male pride by correcting him about the cornflower. Oh, curse James for upsetting her thoughts! She quickly searched her brain for a way to bridge the sudden distance between her and the earl.

"Ouch!"

Sophia grimaced and crumpled.

Maximilian crouched beside her and grasped her hand. "Miss Dawson, are you all right?"

Lady Lucas skirted toward her charge and knelt, too. "What happened, Miss Dawson?"

Sophia reached for her foot. "It's my ankle."

"Oh, my dear!"

The earl glanced at her foot. "Might I examine it, Miss Dawson?"

Sophia pinched her lips together as if in agony. "Yes, please."

Gingerly the man pressed his fingers to the bone at her ankle. She eyed him closely. He kneaded the joint in slow and circular movements, searching for a breakage.

"I don't think it's broken, Miss Dawson."

"Oh, thank heavens!" said the matron.

Sophia thanked the heavens, too. The man was aroused again, his wounded pride forgotten. Sophia could tell; his fingers quivered as he touched her ankle.

She struggled to stand.

"No, my dear!" The matron pinched her wrist. "You might make the injury worse."

"Lady Lucas is right, Miss Dawson. I will fetch help."

"Did someone cal for help?"

Sophia cursed in her native patois under her breath.

James quirked an inward smile. The remaining company didn't hear the whispered expletive, too engrossed with the woman's ankle. But even if the earl and harridan had heard the word, only James understood its meaning.

"Miss Dawson is injured," said the earl. "I was just about to fetch the servants to bring her back to the house."

James glanced down at the prostrated Sophia. A garish string of diamonds choked her throat. He resisted the impulse to snap the necklace and scatter the rocks across the woods, the unnatural beauty so distracting. He was blinded by the stones, so much so that the harridan sensed his lingering gaze. She removed her shawl and draped the diaphanous material around her charge's shoulders.

James lifted his gaze. He detected the acrimony in Sophia's handsome brown-lying!- eyes.

He crouched. "Might I be of a.s.sistance, Miss Dawson?"