Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(54)

Foolishness.

She shook her head, the slight gesture rattled the wood panel. “’Tis nothing,” she said at last.

He proffered his glass. “No thank you,” she murmured. Since her meeting with the mysterious Odysseus at the masquerade, she’d forever sworn off spirits.

“Never tell me you’re afraid to try a sip of brandy?”

Sophie wasn’t afraid to try it. She was afraid to try it, again. “I’ve drunk brandy before, Christopher.”

His eyes widened. Good, she liked that she’d shocked him.

“And?”

And she’d paid with a wicked megrim the next day. “I don’t care for it.”

“I’d wager there is a story behind that furrowed brow.”

She smiled. “You’d win that wager.”

She should turn on her heel and leave. If they were discovered, she would be ruined. They’d be forced to wed. Instead, Sophie wandered deeper into the room.

He jerked his chin to the spot beside him. Sophie hesitated, and then sat. The scent of him; a rich combination of sandalwood and brandy wove about her senses, more intoxicating than any fine liquor.

Christopher’s arm came to rest along the back of their seat. His fingertips brushed the sensitive skin along the tops of her shoulders. She swallowed, and looked up at him to determine whether he was affected by her nearness the way she was by his.

His gaze was fixed upon the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Before this moment she’d always been ashamed of her plump décolletage. With the heated gleam in Christopher’s hazel eyes, it was hard to feel anything other than this heady sensation of a woman who’d captivated a man.

He captured a golden ringlet between his fingers and studied the strand. “Is it truly possible we’ve known each other this long and never felt this pull?”

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. With trembling fingers, she reached up to caress the firm line of his square jaw. The tip of her finger rested upon the faint cleft there. “We were quite awful to each other as children.”

Christopher released the lock. It bounced back into a tight curl against her lip. “We were.”

She blew back the piece of hair but it fell promptly back into place. “You teased me a good deal.”

He brushed the tip of his finger along her lower lip. “You weren’t the sweetest young girl, Phi.”

Sophie swatted his hand. “Only because you were so unconscionable.”

“Was I?”

She nodded. “Horribly.”

“Phi?”

“Yes?”

“Do you really want to spend this time talking about the childhood years we spent fighting one another?”

Her mouth went dry. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

***

No truer words were ever spoken.

When Christopher accepted the invite to Lord and Lady Brackenridge’s soiree, he’d done so with the most dishonorable of intentions. He’d intended to follow through with his father’s directive and compromise Sophie. All Christopher’s honor and integrity had been replaced with a blood-curdling fear of being locked away in Bedlam for the remainder of his days.

He’d entered the hall, sought her out, and lured her to Lord Brackenridge’s library, knowing very well the likelihood of their timed departure being observed and discovered.

Only, Christopher had come to appreciate her wit, intelligence, and…the candlelight bathed her face in a soft glow— the depth of her beauty.

She deserved more than this…more than him.

It struck Christopher that he cared more about her happiness than he did his father’s plans for him.

He could not ruin her reputation.

Not even to save himself.

“You need to leave, Phi,” he said, quietly.

She tipped her head at an endearing little angle. “What if I don’t want to leave?”

His eyes slid momentarily closed as he battled the selfish desire to keep her at his side. “Go,” he said, his tone harsher than intended. However, they danced with disaster. Christopher needed her to flee. He needed her to save herself from the threat of scandal.

Hurt flooded Sophie’s eyes. She jutted her chin out. “Tell me you want me gone, and I shall leave. Tell me you don’t want me here.”

Resplendent in her diamond encrusted pale pink gown, with generous breasts cresting the floral bodice of her glittering décolletage, he could sooner cut off his left arm than set her free. Christopher didn’t care about the threat of scandal, the lies between them—he only knew and felt her.

“I don’t want you to leave, Sophie.” It was the first honest thought he’d had that evening.

She smiled and leaned close. “I know,” she whispered. Again, that loose golden tendril he’d released from her intricate chignon fell over her brow. He reached up and tucked it under the thin diamond band that rested like a shining halo upon her shimmering gold locks.

Christopher cupped the back of her satiny soft neck and rubbed the flesh.

A little moan escaped her. “I’m sure I shouldn’t say this, but that feels delicious.”

He lowered his brow to hers. “I like that you’re honest with me, Phi.” You crave her honesty, but you’ve been duplicitous in your intentions for her. He crushed the jeering voice inside his mind and lowered his head.