Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(4)

Sophie wrinkled her nose. Yes, it would appear she’d been correct and the library was not Lord Thomas’s favorite…“Achoo!” She clamped a hand over her mouth.

She held her breath.

“Please don’t feel you must stay there all evening on my account.” She jumped when the stranger’s deep, mellifluous baritone shattered the quiet.

Sophie squeezed herself behind the sofa in search of refuge. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, contemplating her next move.

If she were wise, she’d run as though Hades himself were after her.

Except, she was attired in costume. Liberties not normally afforded young, unmarried ladies could be indulged by the luxury of a mask.

A shriek escaped her when a pair of leather sandals came to a stop in front of her. White robes swirled about the gentleman’s feet.

Her eyes slowly climbed up, up, up his long, powerful legs, a broad, muscular chest, and shoulders to rival Atlas. She tilted her head back to examine the masked stranger, and swallowed.

“Hello.” His voice, gruff and low, washed over her like a hot, summer sun.

She gulped. “Hullo.”

He set a full glass of brandy down on the dark mahogany table beside the sofa, and fell to a knee beside her.

Before she knew what he’d intended, the gentleman edged up her skirts to inspect her ankles. He captured first one foot in his hand, rolling it delicately, as though he were holding the finest Spanish lace, and then moved to the next.

His fingertip trailed along the heart-shaped birthmark at the inset of her ankle. He lingered a moment, as though transfixed, and then removed his hand. “Are you hurt?”

Sophie swallowed and managed a nod. Until she realized his attention was still directed down toward her ankle. “Just my pride,” she said on a husky whisper. Never before had she felt a man’s hands upon her bare skin. It was headier than the finest French champagne. Her gaze roved a path over his tall, commanding figure clad in long, white robes. She loathed the gold helmet that covered his head and the mask that concealed the better part of his face. Her fingers twitched with a sudden urge to tug his disguise free.

He dropped her skirts back into place and stood, holding a hand out to her. Sophie stared at his long fingers, then placed her hand in his. The mysterious gentleman guided her to her feet.

Shivers of awareness tingled along her spine as she studied him.

In his white robes and sandaled feet, he resembled a Greek god. She squinted into the dark of the room. She would wager her smallest finger that underneath his helmet, he possessed a thick crop of golden hair…silken strands to rival a Greek god.

“Odysseus,” he said, in answer to her unspoken question. He continued to speak in a gruff, husky tone so that she wondered whether it was in fact his speaking voice or an attempt at concealment.

Sophie’s spine stiffened. She looked over to the forgotten copy of The Odyssey and then back to this gentleman who’d burst into her solitude.

Fate.

The word breathed to life inside her; it slipped around her mind like the whisper of fog at the break of dawn.

Sophie gave her head a clearing shake. Don’t be silly, Sophie.

The stranger seemed unaware of the foolish thoughts that swept through her. He rescued the fine brandy he’d pilfered from Lord Thomas’s drink cart. “And you are Aphrodite?”

Sophie shook her head.

He picked up his gaze to study her. “Dionysus?”

She fetched her sword and armor and held them up.

Even in the dark shadows of the room, she detected the dawning awareness in his eyes. He held up his glass in salute. “Ahh, Athena.”

“Yes.”

Sophie fiddled with her shield and spear. She glanced toward the door, then back at the stranger. “I should leave.” Instead, against all better judgment, she moved deeper into the library. She set her weaponry down upon a round, oak table. At the feel of his hot gaze upon her person, she shuffled back and forth on her feet. Unaccustomed to such frank masculine appreciation, she found herself grateful for her concealed identity.

From behind his golden mask, the stranger’s eyes sparkled. “Ahh, but you are Athena, a veritable warrior undaunted by any challenge.”

Sophie paused several steps away from the towering figure. What she wouldn’t give to gauge the color of his eyes. She peered at him. They appeared to be either blue or green. If he angled slightly toward the faint candlelight she might be able to make out…

He took a sip and then set his glass down. “Do I pass your inspection, Athena? Or will you need to see my teeth as well?”

Sophie’s skin heated with the sting of embarrassment. Giving a toss of her head, she said, “That’s a splendid idea. Why don’t you smile so I might inspect?”

A burst of laughter escaped the stranger and her lips twitched in response. In more than two Seasons, she’d not found enjoyment such as this. Where had this stranger been since she’d made her come out?

Odysseus smiled. “Well?”

Sophie folded her arms and caught her chin between her thumb and forefinger. She made a show of studying him. “Hmm. I suppose they will do.”

“Which is very good,” he said with solemnity, “because the alternative is no teeth or wooden teeth.”

Sophie giggled. “Really? Wood teeth? Is there such a thing?”