Badcock (14 page)

Elinor
took a deep breath. She had to lie. It would not do to let
Wisbech
know how deeply she was involved. “I overheard them planning the deed when we visited
Amberley
.”

Wisbech
trembled visibly. “She planned to leave me standing at the altar? To embarrass me in front of my peers?”

Elinor
cast her gaze to the ground. “It appears so, my lord.” From under lowered lashes, she regarded him for a moment. His nostrils flared with each breath. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Why didn’t you say anything to me beforehand?” he asked, his voice low and menacing. Murderous.

“I…I should have. Certainly, I didn’t think she would go through with such a foolish plan. After all, isn’t Lord Stafford engaged to a Pomeranian lady of some sort?”

Something sinister flashed in
Wisbech’s
eyes. “Indeed he is, Lady Huntingdon. Indeed he is.”

* * * * *

Jack sipped a glass of wine as he watched Sophia doze. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight than her, sated and sleeping with her delicate fist curled loosely against the sheets and her black hair trailing in stark contrast across the white pillowslip.

Abducting her from her own wedding procession had been pure idiocy. What had he been thinking?

And yet, he did not, for one moment, regret it. No matter what damage their relationship would cause her in society, she would still be better off with him than with Lord
Wisbech
.

Jack had always remained aloof when it came to the affairs and deportment of others but he could not allow himself to stand idly by, knowing that
Wisbech
had a penchant for physical cruelty. The thought of that bastard laying a hand on Sophia enraged Jack.

Besides, society reeked with debauchers and debauchery. Jack could not imagine Sophia becoming a disenchanted harridan like Lady Huntingdon. Despite all the things they’d done together, Sophia was still very innocent and very emotionally fragile.

Keeping her that way was the least he could do, especially after he’d stolen her innocence—and her hopes for an advantageous marriage.

A pang of guilt threatened to rise but Jack tamped it back down.

No use feeling guilty now. The deed was done. She was his mistress now.

His.

Knowing that at least some part of her belonged to him evoked something possessive and carnal within him. Nothing could dampen the physical desire he had for her. With his past dalliances, he’d always been able to walk away, to forget. Not with Sophia.

Her face, her words, her kisses, her touch had haunted him since that day he’d put her in a coach and sent her away. When he’d found out she wasn’t Lady Huntingdon, he’d been unable to stay away from her.

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He should have stayed away from her. When his father died, Jack had promised himself that he would be the responsible man his father had been. He’d put aside his trifling behavior, his heavy drinking, the gambling—all of it. He’d made a good match with Lady Hilda. And now…

Now all he could think about was spending every waking hour with Sophia. He wanted to protect her, to please her, to feel her arms around him and to hear her whisper the words he’d heard her say that day in his garden.
I love you.

His insides churned.

I love you.

Other women had avowed their love for him but he had never believed them. He hadn’t wanted to believe Sophia.

And yet…

He warmed at the memory of her standing in the pouring rain and putting her hand in his earlier this morning. A smile played on his lips when he recalled how ridiculous the wilted ostrich plume looked in her carefully coifed hair. Even then, he’d wanted to strip the powder and plumage and panniers away. On Sophia, it seemed false and foolish. He wouldn’t care if she ever put another stitch of clothes on her body. His cock stirred at the thought of keeping her perpetually naked.

How wonderful it would be if he could shirk his duties and society so he would never have to be separated from her for an instant. A dark cloud descended on his thoughts. His own wedding was only weeks away.

He buried his face in his palm and massaged his throbbing temples with his fingertips.
This
with Sophia could not have come at a worse time in his life.

He had a responsibility to his title, his servants and staff, not to mention the estate. Part of that responsibility meant siring an heir—with a wife. His stomach twisted. Why did the thought of being with another woman rankle him so? That had never been a problem before. When he’d been in Paris, he’d had his pick of willing women. Sometimes two a night. Sometimes two at a time. He grinned in spite of himself.

Sophia turned over and Jack watched the sensuous movements of her legs under the covers—those legs that had been wrapped around his neck earlier. He grinned. His cock lurched and without thinking, he gripped and squeezed it.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He would never get enough of her. No matter whom he married. In one gulp, he downed the rest of his wine and then gained his feet.

It was high time Sophia awakened from her nap.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed and trailed his fingertip down her exposed arm. Her skin felt like silk. Soft. Smooth.

She moaned softly as he pulled the sheet down. Leaning over her, he kissed the delicate shell of her ear and then raked his teeth lightly along her earlobe. Sleepily, she voiced her pleasure. Jack’s kisses moved to her neck where he nibbled and sucked until he elicited a giggle from her.

Twisting onto her back, she smiled and for an instant, Jack couldn’t breathe. Trust and adoration shimmered in her dark eyes. She’d never looked more unguarded, more vulnerable—more beautiful—than she did at this moment. He stared, drinking in the sight of her, mesmerized until she broke the spell by reaching for him.

With a soft growl, he ripped down the covers and moved over her. She welcomed him, opening her thighs and reaching to guide his hard cock into her channel. He sighed as he sank into the tight, wet heat of her sheath.

Her body was soft in all the right places. Her nipples stabbed at his chest. Her legs wound around his. Her hands roamed over his back, her nails dragging deliciously against his skin.

Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in the sultry scent of her. With all the powder and perfume washed away, he inhaled that fragrance that belonged only to her, reveling in the scent of sex and skin—and Sophia.

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered.

Her body rose beneath his, countering his slow, deliberate thrusts. Out, in. Out, in again.
Sophia.
He cupped her head in his hand, anchoring her as he braced to penetrate her farther, faster.

Her thighs parted wider. His groin ground hers and his sac pushed up hard against her bottom. The harsh sounds of their breaths mingled with the wet suction of their lovemaking.

He ached for release.
Oh yes, almost there…
But no. Sophia had not found her own release yet. Difficult as it was for him, Jack pulled out and moved down. Sophia’s fingers threaded into his hair as he sought out her
cunny
. He moaned as his lips closed over her swollen clitoris. Her essence filled his mouth. He chewed her, sucked her, drank her. Sweet and sexual, her cream drove him wild with the urge to bury himself in her once more. A frisson shook her body and her fingers tightened in his hair. The idea that he was giving this pleasure to her flooded him with emotions he could not identify. All he knew was he wouldn’t stop until she cried his name.

The muscles in her legs tensed and when he pushed a finger inside her channel, she bucked up hard against his mouth. He clung with his lips, sucking and tonguing relentlessly, holding her to prevent her wriggling away as her back bowed so that only her shoulders and head were left touching the bed.

Jack continued his oral onslaught until she grew limp in his arms, until she cried, “Stop, Jack!” Then he reared over her and drove into her intent on placating this unquenchable lust.

Chapter Nine

Lord
Wisbech
trailed his finger down the barrel of one of his deceased father’s dueling pistols. The honorable thing to do would be to call Lord Stafford out, demand satisfaction.

Lifting the pistol out of the case, he drew in a sharp breath.
Wisbech
curled his finger around the trigger and aimed the pistol at the wall, imagining leveling it on Stafford. A burst of wicked joy filled him with pleasure. Holding his chin high, he straightened and squeezed the trigger. The hammer clicked but
Wisbech
only wickedly imagined the explosion of gunpowder.

Calling Stafford out would be the honorable thing but hardly the prudent thing to do.
Wisbech
sneered. He’d heard of Stafford’s reputation with a pistol. Gossip abounded that Stafford had wounded several and killed at least one man in duels during his time abroad. Challenging him would hardly be sensible.

Ralph snorted. Sophia wasn’t worth the risk.

Casting the pistol aside, he downed his snifter of brandy in one gulp. Every nerve in his body was taut to the point of snapping. He felt as if he’d been rendered impotent. Bringing a breach of promise suit against Sophia would be expensive and even if he won the suit, he didn’t have the funds to file it. Besides, courts were loath to award a man damages, as it was widely considered a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.

Was there nothing he could do to get satisfaction?

Sophia and Stafford had humiliated him beyond common decency and Ralph knew he would not be satisfied until he had been vindicated.

Perhaps the delightful and conniving Lady Huntingdon would have an idea.

* * * * *

“But I don’t want to leave this place,” Sophia said as she nestled into Jack’s embrace.

He chuckled softly. “We can’t stay here forever. And besides, we drank the last of the wine.”

Sophia smiled but inwardly she wished they could remain here where the outside world seemed far away, where she could linger in Jack’s arms and pretend he was not betrothed to another.

“I’m afraid of what Lord
Wisbech
will do,” she confessed.

“Afraid? Of that halfwit?” Jack pulled her even closer so that her forehead rested against his chest. “Why? Did he threaten you?”

She worked her fingers through the soft dusting of hair there. “Once.”

Jack’s body tensed and Sophia regretting confiding in him.

“When?” he demanded.

“After Lady Huntingdon’s party,” she said. “It was nothing really. He just told me not to embarrass him again.”

“Or what?” Jack asked, obviously aware that she hadn’t related the entire encounter.

She swallowed. “He said…” She blinked and tried to draw away from Jack. Intuitively, she knew nothing good could come of telling Jack how Ralph had threatened her.

Jack, however, did not release her. His arms tightened. “What did he say to you?” he asked. “I’ve heard of his reputation. A mean sort, that one.”

Mean was hardly the word to describe Ralph. Cruel was a far better summation of his character. “I’m sure it was just an idle threat,” Sophia said.

“No matter. What did he say?”

“He said…he said he would kill me,” Sophia confessed.

Jack drew in a sharp breath and expelled it with deliberate slowness. “I won’t lie to you, love,” he said. “After you visited me with Lady Huntingdon, I inquired as to his character.”

Sophia’s heart skittered. After telling her their meeting had been a mistake, he’d cared enough to ask after her. She batted her lashes against the hot tears in her eyes. “What did you learn?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“He’s a tyrant who flogs his servants for the least infraction—and he’s impoverished.”

“Impoverished?” Sophia wrenched herself from Jack’s embrace and propped on her elbow. “What?”

“He has no money. None.”

“The lying bastard,” Sophia said. But, darkly, she remembered him telling her that the only reason he was marrying her was because of her dowry. Her heart twisted that a man would only want to marry her for money. He’d never had even an inkling of love for her. At first, she’d thought she could grow to care for him. After all, he was handsome. He was titled. His houses seemed well appointed.

When she had agreed to be his wife—or rather when her father had
informed
her she would be his wife—she’d never known the passion she’d come to know with Jack. She’d always wanted more from Lord
Wisbech
, some show of affection. But there had been none. None!

That wasn’t true with Jack. Even now, his hands sought her out, reaching to brush an errant lock of her hair behind her shoulder.

“Do not concern yourself with
Wisbech
,” Jack told her.

“But—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Not now. Not right now.”

His eyes darkened. Sophia recognized the look. Desire. Her stomach fluttered and her channel tightened in anticipation.

His fingers skimmed lightly down her arm, over her hip and around her bottom, where he cupped her toward him possessively. “I haven’t yet been inside that fetching little
lovebud
of yours.”

Sophia sputtered a laugh. “
Lovebud
?”

He smiled. “
Lovebud
.” One eyebrow arched wickedly.

“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that,” she protested although her heart leapt at the thought of him invading her there. The little plaything he’d pushed up that hole earlier had felt far better than she ever imagined.

Jack’s eyes narrowed devilishly. “After all the spankings I’ve met out to you, I can’t believe you would dare deny me. I’m keeping count of your refusals, you naughty minx.”

He scooted out of the bed and Sophia’s mouth went dry as he headed for the chest of drawers. Her pulse seemed to beat in her throat as he returned to the bed with the leather strap and the jar of cream he’d used to lubricate her bottom before.