Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(69)

“Deplorable. When I was a girl, you claimed my playing was deplorable.”

Christopher rocked on his feet. “Did I?” He smoothed his palms over the lapels of his jacket, not for the first time, shamed by how he’d treated Sophie.

She nodded. The rapid movement dislodged a golden strand of hair from the butterfly comb that held her silken locks in place.

“I was a bloody fool, Phi.”

Her smile expanded.

“Will you continue?”

She hesitated and then reclaimed her seat. “Would you like me to perform a particular piece?”

“Anything will suffice.”

A coy little smile played on her lips. “Anything?”

Christopher imagined that was the smile that had gotten her into trouble with her mother and brother over the years. He settled into the yellow velvet sofa, and draped his arms along the back of the seat.

Sophie tapped the tip of her finger over her lip, and then stopped. Her hands froze, poised over the keys and with a slow wink, she began to play.

I met a young lass, as bold as brass

With cheeky retorts and flashing eyes,

She opened her mouth and sounded quite crass

So I scolded the lass who then raised up her glass, and told me to kiss her…

Christopher’s sharp bark of laughter cut across Sophie’s playing.

“Hand, goodbye,” Sophie sang between her laughter.

“Wherever did you learn such a song?”

Sophie shrugged. “When I was a girl I spent a good deal of time in the stables. I made friends with one of the stable hands. He taught me all number of improper songs.”

Thick, all-consuming jealousy filled him at the thought of Sophie and this unknown stable boy. It licked at his insides. Sophie continued talking, seeming unaware of the powerful emotion that gripped him. “His name was Robert. He also taught me how to skip stones upon the lake.”

“Did he?” The question came out clipped and harsh.

Sophie nodded. She whispered conspiratorially. “Mother forbid me from seeing Robert anymore when he…”

A growl worked its way up his throat.

“Allowed me to ride Geoffrey’s horse astride,” Sophie finished.

He blinked. “Astride?”

“All very scandalous. Said that girls of twelve must only ride sidesaddle.”

That was all. Suddenly feeling very foolish at the irrational path his jealous mind had traveled, Christopher cleared his throat. “I thought I recalled Lady Ackerly reporting that you’d been seen riding through Regent Park astride.”

“Well, Mother never elaborated upon ladies of eighteen.”

He chuckled and climbed to his feet. “Oh, Sophie. Sweet, sweet Sophie.”

***

Sophie turned on the bench, and rested her elbows upon the ivory keys. A discordant thrum filled the room as she faced Christopher. He stopped in front of her, and she craned her neck to look up at him.

Her breath caught. Her husband possessed the kind of beauty captured in paintings and carved in stone. And he belonged to her.

Christopher took her hands in his and guided her to her feet. “Should I be suspicious of that impish smile, Phi?”

Her smile grew. “Not at all.”

“I was disappointed this morning, sweet.”

Her brow furrowed. “Was it my playing? Or…last night?” She felt her cheeks flame with heat at the boldness of that question. “Uh, that is…”

Christopher lowered his lips so they were a hairsbreadth apart from hers. “Quite the opposite. I was disappointed to find you gone.”

“I thought you needed to sleep.”

“Sleep is never more important than making love to you.”

“But—”

“Never.” That one word came out as a silken whisper that washed over her.

His mouth closed over hers and this exchange was not the gentle meeting of lips but a man laying claim to his woman. The possessiveness of his touch enflamed Sophie. She arched into him, angling her neck so he might avail himself to the sensitive flesh.

He did not disappoint. His lips caressed the rapid beating pulse there.

It was the kind of wickedness that had gotten many an innocent consigned to life in an abbey, but Sophie didn’t want to wait to feel his touch.

Christopher fisted her skirts and slowly raised them. The air slapped her skin, as Sophie realized her husband had no intention of waiting. He sat down upon the piano bench and lifting her skirts, pulled her astride him.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she breathed.

He responded by reaching between them and releasing his shaft from the confines of his breeches.

Sophie gazed down at the impressive length, filled with a desire to please him the way he’d pleasured her the evening prior. She wrapped her fingers around his thick, solid length. His manhood throbbed in her hand.

“Christ,” he hissed. His head fell back and he squeezed his eyes tight, as though in pain.

Delighting in her newfound power over him, Sophie sank to her knees and stroked his shaft—slowly at first. Then, as he arched his hips upright, she grew bolder, squeezing him until moisture beaded on the tip. She stared, riveted by the sight of it and leaned down to taste the clear drop.

Her husband nearly shot out of his seat. His hips arched. “Oh, god,” he groaned.