Bewildered, it was Sophie’s first instinct to say something coy, something sarcastic. Something that would shore up the wall she had spent the last week building to protect herself against the charming Alex. A wall that had been shaky at best, and now that she stood next to him, felt the heat of his caress, the warmth of his words, crumbled completely.
She had been angry with him for chasing off her suitors tonight, but she had been angrier at herself. She’d been so happy to see him, so relieved to be rid of the company of men who valued a well-practiced giggle over a well-read mind. The charade had grown increasingly depressing with each passing minute. She hated pretending to be something she was not, hated catering to the whims of men she couldn’t respect, hated the knowledge that by binding herself to one of them in marriage, she would be giving up the chance of love forever. It was likely she would never know the joys of mutual respect, affection, and desire with her husband.
But perhaps she could know them to night.
“Walk with me,” she whispered.
It was a terrible idea. A dangerous idea. She had a husband to find and Whitefield to save. She needed to make her way into Lord Forent’s study, find proof of treason. But she couldn’t bring herself to see to those tasks just now.
What ever it took, she would secure her family’s survival. She’d traveled the world, seen more places in a decade than most people would see in their lives. Only one place was home. Only one held memories of a mother and sister she’d adored and lost.
She would give her future to Whitefield. This moment, this small sliver of to night, would be hers.
Alex took a cursory glance across the interior of the ballroom to make sure they wouldn’t be seen. Then he was leading her quickly down the stone steps and into a maze of well-lit paths past rosebushes, and fountains, and hedges, and more rosebushes, until she was completely lost.
Alex brought her to a small gazebo, pulled her behind one vine-covered wall and then into his arms.
For a moment, he simply rested his forehead against hers and held on. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, as holding Sophie. In the past, holding a woman was merely one of the steps to lovemaking, a sensual act that added pleasure to the occasion.
It was different with Sophie. Her soft form molded against his was much more than a formality to seduction, much more than one step in a sequence of steps needed to reach that ultimate goal. Having Sophie Everton in his arms was an end in itself.
He could feel her every curve, every angle through the fabric of their clothes. He could hear her heart pounding, feel her breath against his neck. He felt the way she relaxed against him and it sent a surge of pride and possessiveness through him.
She was his.
And suddenly it wasn’t enough just to hold her. He needed to taste her, to mark her as his own. To leave no question of to whom she belonged.
His lips danced over hers lightly until he felt her yield. Then he slanted his mouth over hers hungrily, teasing her jaw open with his thumb until her lips parted enough to allow his tongue to slip between them. She gasped into his mouth at the new intrusion and his muscles tightened in response.
“So good,” he groaned, leaving her mouth to taste her ear, then the side of her neck. He lingered in the tender spot where the base of her neck met her smooth shoulders.
She gasped again and Alex knew that if one of them did not call this to a halt soon, it would go too far. As a gentleman, he should do it. He should set her away from him.
His arms tightened around her instinctively at the thought. A few more minutes he decided, just a few more minutes.
He returned his attention to her mouth, delighting in the little sounds she made, the tentative movements of her tongue against his, the shy exploration of her hands against his back.
Without conscious thought, one hand stole up from her waist to settle lightly against her beautifully displayed breast. Perhaps her new dress had benefits after all. He felt her tense and he expected her to pull away. When she leaned against his hand instead, he knew he had to end it now or it would be too late.
He pulled back from her, a little surprised at how wrong the movement felt. It took every ounce of his willpower not to snatch her back up again. He took a step back just to be safe.
She blinked up at him. “Why did you stop?”
“One of us had to,” he said in an equally strained voice.
“Oh,” she responded, a bit stupidly she imagined. It took a moment for her to grasp the meaning of his words.
“Oh,” she finally said with a great deal more feeling. “Oh, no. How long have we been out here?”
“Not nearly long enough,” Alex muttered under his breath.
“Mrs. Summers is sure to be looking for me.”
“She shouldn’t have let you come out here in the first place,” he pointed out. And without the slightest trace of rancor, she noticed.
“She could show up at any minute,” Sophie replied, mostly because she felt she owed it to Mrs. Summers.
He caressed the side of her face with one finger. “No doubt you are right. Back to the ball with you then.” He wanted to press her about Loudor, but he’d kept her out too long already.