Page 19 of The Sheik's Son

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“I think one kiss will pay the debt for your insult,” he told her quietly.

Sophie thought for a moment that she had misheard him. One moment she was in the rain enjoying the silence and now she was being accosted by a stranger. She would scream.

“You could scream,” he suggested.

Sophie looked into his handsome face and he smiled broadly.

“Women. You think alike.”

“Indeed? I’m quite certain the women you are used to don’t think at all,” came her retort.

When he dipped his head down to touch her lips with his, Sophie wanted to scream. But then suddenly she wanted to feel his lips on hers. He was arrogant and self-centered and used to getting what he wanted. She would show him. But the feeling was tantalizing as his mouth touched hers and she had to curl her fingers into the bark of the tree behind her to stop herself from winding them into his hair.

At first his lips were warm against her cool ones. Then she felt his hand on her neck and she opened her mouth and his tongue was touching hers delicately, intimately.

He could feel himself harden and realized it had happened with only one simple, innocent kiss from the auburn-haired lovely. It was a feeling that he welcomed in the rain under the tree. She smelled of floral and sweet orange flowers and it was as if he’d stumbled upon a garden amid the rain. He knew she was holding back because she deliberately kept her hands away from him.

She closed her eyes and felt his tongue teasing her mouth and his hand on her neck. She savored the feeling, wanting it never to end and wanting it to stop. She was behaving badly and it was unseemly. If her grandmother saw her, she would probably faint. Before Sophie changed her mind, she bit down on the man’s bottom lip.

“Hoyden!” He pulled away, his tongue licking blood from his tiny wound.

Sophie backed away. “You lack any semblance of manners!” She made her way back to the safety of the refreshment tent as her heart pounded in her chest.

Meanwhile, Sebastian stood in the rain tasting blood, with her scent still lingering in the air.

***

Dorset had asked that Sebastian speak to the young lady he had invited for dinner. He wanted her to know the time and place, and asked to be pardoned for having to leave early from the match. The girl was to join him at his home for an intimate dinner and he would, of course, be delighted to entertain her grandmother as well.

“Grandmother?” Sebastian asked.

“Don’t ask,” Dorset said. “She’s a lady and her grandmother will act as chaperone.”

Sebastian shrugged. This would be a first, he thought.

“She’s sitting with Madame Necker and her daughter Germaine,” Dorset said as he entered his carriage.

“It will be done, sir.”

Sebastian walked towards the tent, still relishing the taste of the unknown woman. He would have to find her. He hadn’t been so intrigued by a woman in a long time. He knew from her response that she was an innocent and he would savor her all the more.

He looked through the tent and saw Madame Necker in deep conversation with two women and he moved toward them.

Germaine saw him coming and bounded up to meet him. “Hello, Sebastian,” she said, smiling.

“Mademoiselle,” he returned as she led him to the table.

Madame Necker motioned to the empty seat and then spoke. “I don’t think you know our newest addition. Sebastian Fairfax, this is Sophie Gauvreau. Sophie, this is Sebastian Fairfax.”

Sebastian turned to the young woman and looked deep into the hazel eyes of the witch who had bitten his lip in the drizzle of a Paris rain.

Chapter 6

Sophie’s eyes narrowed as she saw the man who had accosted her outside in the rain. She wanted to point to him and yell that he was a seducer of women, but then smiled to herself. That only happened to women who read too many novels. She was determined to be a woman of the world. An intellectual woman of the world. The only way to deal with a man like him would be to ignore him entirely.

“Monsieur Fairfax,” she said coolly, extending out her hand.

He bowed to her slightly and took her hand in his. “Mademoiselle Gauvreau. A pleasure.” He kissed her hand, as expected, but his finger lingered underneath it, touching her palm intimately.


Tags: Nicola Italia Historical