Sophie stared at him. “You are telling me that you have … serious intentions toward me?”
“How can you doubt it? I am utterly and completely entranced by you, Sophie. I all but worship you.”
She continued staring.
He took her chin in one hand and raised it. “Believe it, Angel. I am in earnest.”
“I think I would like to resume my lesson,” she said in a low voice.
Frank looked over to where Fanny had sat watching them. Sophie followed his eyes. To her surprise, Fanny was nowhere to be seen.
Her archery instructor took the bow and arrow out of her hands and tossed them on the ground. Putting both arms around her, he pulled her close with great energy. “At last,” he murmured.
With his arms around her, she felt once more shrouded in the velvet intimacy they had shared after the Mozart. But now a wave of heat ran through her and a swirling sensation began in her abdomen and twirled up to her heart. She laid her head upon his chest, and Frank held her tightly to him like a precious find.
“Angel, you feel perfect in my arms. But you are trembling again.”
“It is your nearness. It makes me feel as weak as a noodle.”
“Maybe a kiss would help.”
“I think it could not hurt.”
He placed his lips carefully on hers, kissing her gently. His mouth tasted delicious. It strayed from her lips to kiss her eyelids, then trailed to her temples, her cheeks, and down her jawbone, leaving a trail of fire behind. When he came to her lips again, his ardor increased as though he were starving. Taking her upper lip into his mouth, he stroked it with his tongue. Then the lower lip. Her heart was beating like a tambourine in a gypsy band. And wonder of wonders, she could feel that his was doing the same.
Frank pulled away slowly. “I do not want to dishonor you. That must be enough for today.”
“Fan is very unconventional, you know.”
“The perfect chaperone.”
“I have so many things to learn about you, my lord …”
“Frank.”
“Gorgeous Frank. I think we have moved beyond our trial friendship.”
“We did that the moment you picked up your violin. We’ve skipped friends altogether and have become lovers.” He stooped and kissed her forehead.
“But … it has only been four days since we met. How can this be?”
“I feel you have been eternally mine, Sophie. We fit together as though we were made that way. Do you not feel that there is some kind of recognition between us? You have unlocked me so that I am finding deeper parts of my heretofore shallow self.”
Sophie pondered this. “I remember when I first saw you, you looked familiar. You think we existed before this life? Like Wordsworth?”
“Yes. You at least are ‘trailing clouds of glory.’ I am just an ordinary fellow.”
“Not ordinary,” she whispered. “Never ordinary.”
He kissed her again and to Sophie, it seemed as though their heat melted them into each other.
{ 10 }
PACING HIS LIBRARY, Frank did not know when he had felt as humbled and alive. Ennui had left him days ago. He had waited all his life for a purpose that would consume him, and now he had it: marrying Sophie and starting a family, nurturing her brilliance, loving her every day of his life. What they had together was surely not garden-variety passion. It was something only the poets knew of. There was enough substance in little Sophie’s great soul to spend a lifetime exploring. Reliving the moments he had held her in his arms, he physically ached for completion. His whole body was aflame with twin urges to possess and to protect her.
Tonight, he was staying in. He could not even contemplate attending a ball followed by a card party. He had tried to do his duty by attending his godmother’s ball the previous evening, and after one dance with Lady Melissa, he had bid Godmama goodnight. Now, penning his regrets to his hosts and hostesses, he rang for Dinwoody, his butler.
“Have these delivered by one of the footmen. I shall dine at Brook’s, but then I shall stay in this evening.”
“Is your lordship ill? I must say, if you will pardon the familiarity, you do not look it.”
“No, Dinwoody, I am not ill. I am in love. And you are the first I have told. I trust you will keep it to yourself. I should not care for my emotions to be broadcast along the servants’ grapevine.”
“No, your lordship. Congratulations, your lordship. There is claret in your carafe. Would you rather I brought brandy?”
“Yes, Dinwoody, that would be splendid!”
~~*
When Frank returned home from Brook’s at half past nine, it was to the news, conveyed by his butler, that he had a visitor.
“Lady Manwaring insisted upon waiting for you in your library.”
“But how did she know I wasn’t out for the evening?”
“She said she would wait, I quote, ‘as long as it takes.’ I made up the fire in there, your lordship, so you should find it quite comfortable.”