A Perfect Storm (7 page)

“What in the hell is the matter with you?” Magnus hissed softly, clearly keeping his comment for their ears only. “You were successful last night. Sophie is more curious than she ever was. I don’t know why you’re swinging this ax like it’s a guillotine and looking dark enough to make me think it’s your own head you’re fantasizing about chopping off.”

Lucien couldn’t keep the tightness out of his mouth. “I moved too fast with her.” Admitting he’d screwed up on day one choked in his throat. “It was a rookie mistake. Maybe one that ends this before it begins.”

Shaking his head, Magnus put the ax on the ground. “She’s a real person, Lucien, and so are you. You got caught up in her for a minute and lost yourself. It’s human. You can’t have thought you could do this completely devoid of feelings.”

Heat crept up Lucien’s neck. He couldn’t stand Magnus’s scrutiny.

“Son of a bitch,” Magnus murmured. “You did think that.” He whistled soft and low in a way that worked Lucien’s last nerve. “That’s shockingly shortsighted on your part, my friend. Not like you at all.”

Lucien gritted his teeth. “I have to think quickly and course correct.”

“Or you could give it all up and recognize how terribly destructive a plan this is,” Magnus offered instead.

There were days Lucien had to remind himself repeatedly that he wasn’t actually a violent person. Right now, he barely held his clenched fist at his side. “If you don’t have anything legitimate to contribute,
friend
”—he snatched the ax back into hand—“then you are welcome to swim your goddamn way back to the mainland and never set foot on Raven Island again.”

Magnus leaned in and bared his teeth right back. “If you’re not careful, you will bring to fruition that solitary, brooding vision you have of yourself wandering this damn castle alone. Your revenge and Josh’s ghost won’t keep you nearly as warm as you think.” His gaze slid over Lucien’s shoulder, and his pupils suddenly dilated. “Now you’d better fucking figure out your next move in about thirty seconds, because our guest of honor just stepped out the front door.” Magnus jerked his head, and Lucien looked up to find Sophie traipsing across the soggy lawn.

Jesus
. Lucien swallowed thickly. Back in her own clothing, Sophie was covered from top to bottom. Blonde tresses rioted wildly around her face. Her blue eyes glinted as if they were the ocean filled with crystals, and her freshly scrubbed pink cheeks, makeup-free face, and easy smile arrested Lucien in place. Rays of sunlight seemed to beam from within her, and Lucien wanted nothing so much as to sink into her and lose himself in her warmth.

Stop it
! Lucien went rigid. He could not afford to forget himself. He had never let himself get lost in sexual attraction or a lively, pretty woman in the past, and he had no intention of losing his way and doing so now. Sweet Miss Emerson needed some prepping for the next stage of this game, and no one had yet to best Lucien in the subtle art of manipulation. He would not let an innocent become the first.

As Sophie joined the group on the front lawn, she tried to control her blush. But gosh, she’d seen the cocks of two of the three men in front of her and swore she could still feel the imprint of the third against her spine right this second. She couldn’t get the sensation of that same man’s fingers off her mound either. Her channel still pulsed with the feel of his hand pressing between her thighs. She remained unnaturally slick in his presence too. Her immediate response to him was as much a mystery to her as the secrets still hidden on this island.
Darn it.

Sophie bounded—with a little too much bounce, jeez—to Lucien and Magnus. “Someone should have woken me,” she said. “I’d have been happy to help with the cleanup.”

“With all the extra
research
”—Lucien landed a pointed stare on her—“you took upon yourself for your story last night, I thought it best to let you get some rest.”

Sophie blushed even hotter under Lucien’s scrutiny. She had on her own clothing again, in addition to the extra layer of Emma’s hoodie, yet she felt as naked and on display right now as Emma had been in actuality last night.
Whoa
. Sophie rubbed her arms. The mere thought dotted her skin with goose bumps under her clothes.

Her savior once more, Magnus glared at Lucien and gave Sophie’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Ignore him. He doesn’t mean to be an ass, particularly since it looks like you’ll be stuck with his company for at least another day, maybe longer.” Magnus shared the news about the
Maiden’s Voyage
having slipped its mooring, as well as the damage done to the smaller boat they sometimes used for transportation. Magnus also explained that the official cleanup was focused on the mainland, and that as long as Raven Island had functioning generators and enough food to sustain its residents, rescue workers would not put getting Sophie back home at the top of their list.

“So let me just say that we”—Magnus beckoned to Cale and a stunning, dark-haired beauty—“would appreciate any help you’re willing to offer.”

The statuesque woman stuck her hand out in Sophie’s direction. “I’m Jade.” They exchanged a firm handshake. “I heard Ravenstoke had a guest. It’s nice to meet you.”

After murmuring “Likewise,” to Jade, Sophie clasped Cale’s waiting hand.

“Cale.” The man’s fingers closed tightly around Sophie’s, and she immediately sensed that if he didn’t maintain control, he could easily crush her hand and break bones. “I’m the groundskeeper, and I gladly accept your offer of assistance.”

His smile reached his eyes, and Sophie automatically grinned back. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she replied.
Officially, anyway
. She’d never forget Cale plowing his thick penis into Emma’s pussy or the gleam of joy in his milk chocolate stare as he fucked her. Shaking herself mentally—
stop thinking about sex, darn it
—Sophie plastered an even bigger grin on her face. “Just put me where you want me, show me what you want done, and I’ll do my best.”

Right then her stomach churned and grumbled. Very loudly.

Lucien chuckled, the sound a strange mix of indulgent and superior. “You are welcome to help out with the cleaning as much as you’d like”—he held up a hand when Sophie parted her lips—“provided you get yourself to the kitchen for some breakfast first. I don’t need you passing out and pitching over the cliffs.”

To the left, waves crashed against the cliff’s rock-face. Sophie envisioned the tide swallowing the cry of a victim and the frigid water clutching a body as it pulled a helpless being to its death.

“You won’t get a fight out of me.” Sophie shivered but not against the cold. “I’ll go find something to eat right away.” She took an automatic step toward the castle, even though she wasn’t anywhere close to the cliffs.

“And, Sophie?” Lucien’s bourbon-smooth tone snared Sophie at the foot of the stone steps.

She turned in a slow half circle and found Lucien’s gaze. “Yes?”

An unnatural glint sparked in Lucien’s eyes. “If you are overcome by the urge to explore my home again, please request an escort. Either I or any of my employees would be happy to give you the
official
tour again.” His dark brow raised in prominence against his silvery-pale features. “Understood?”

Sophie’s jaw clenched hard enough to make her molars hurt. “Right.” A hint of shame fluttered in her belly, but for reasons she did not understand, this particular man made it difficult for her to feel true remorse for her snooping. “Let me go get some food. And no worries, Mr. Cabot”—she smartly saluted him and his subtle superiority complex—“I’ll make sure to go straight to the kitchen. I will not pass Go or collect two hundred dollars.” Sophie wiggled her fingers at him. “Bye.”

She spun and hustled up the steps quickly, leaving Lucien to stand amid new chuckles, this time from Magnus, Cale, and Jade. More guilt poked at Sophie’s conscience as she made her way inside. She had no right to tweak Lucien at every turn, particularly not in front of his employees. She’d never behaved so unprofessionally in her life. Yet she sensed an ease, a closeness and protection for Lucien from his employees that registered in her as something more accurately described as friendship. Lines were obviously either very blurred or simply outright didn’t exist among this small group—evidenced clearly by last night and a bit more this morning. Once again, Sophie wondered exactly what she’d stepped into when entering Ravenstoke yesterday. And beyond that, she still had a thousand thoughts about what role they, but Lucien in particular, expected her to play.

Sophie entered the kitchen to the inviting waft of warm, yeasty bread filling the air and snaking into her nostrils.

The bread called her, but her thoughts remained squarely on the exchange outside.
What do you want with me, Mr. Cabot
? A sense of caution weighed heavy in Sophie’s middle amidst an unusual anticipation rocketing missiles willy-nilly throughout her system anytime she got near Lucien. Heck, if she were honest, every time she thought about him.

At that moment, though, Sophie stumbled upon the freshly cooked loaves of bread still in their pans on the stovetop, and nothing else mattered. Holding back her hair, she leaned in, inhaled deeply, and let the smells of her earliest childhood memories roll through her. Love for her mother and father and the united, tender pair they’d constantly presented to Sophie and Royce filled her heart with the sweetest, welcoming pain. She and Royce might not share the same blood, but Sophie’s mother and Royce’s father had never once let them believe they were anything but true siblings. Royce’s dad had adopted her and made them all a real family in the eyes of the law. Because of that upbringing, when their parents had died, Royce had never even let the idea of someone else taking custody of Sophie become part of the conversation. He’d been of an age to assume legal responsibility for her, and she’d still needed a guardian, so Royce had done everything necessary to gain and then maintain the right to assume the role. Thank God. Although Sophie loved her extended family, it would have devastated her world had Royce contemplated making her someone else’s ward.

Looking at this bread, Sophie laughed to herself. Royce had tried to make her bread once—with disastrous results. He’d almost burned their kitchen down. Some quick thinking and a handily placed fire extinguisher had saved them from authorities possibly reassessing granting a young man the caretaker role for his little sister when there were many adults around capable of taking on the job.

“You sure do seem to like that bread.”

The sound of a young, scratchy voice shoved Sophie’s heart right into her throat. She whipped out of her meandering thoughts, scanned the kitchen, and found an auburn-haired boy who appeared to be nine or ten. He stood at the entrance wearing jeans and an Incredible Hulk sweatshirt.

A child?

With one look at the kid, all the confusion that had been swirling and growing inside Sophie since stepping foot on this island increased a hundredfold.
What. The. Heck?

All arms and legs, the gangly boy continued to study Sophie from his position just outside the kitchen. His wide-eyed stare surely matched hers, and his immobile state spurred Sophie to action.

“Hi.” She walked across the kitchen and stuck out her hand. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Sophie.” After a handshake, Sophie explained, “I’m staying at Ravenstoke because of the storm. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to leave.”

“My name is Owen,” the boy shared. “I lived here before the storm.”

Ah, Owen
. Sophie remembered Emma’s mentioning him by name.
So not another employee
. Lucien’s son, then?
No
. For all the mysterious nature of the man, she could not see him showing her around this place, eating dinner with her, sharing the study quietly for hours afterward, and somehow just letting it slip his mind that he had a child on the premises. Still… Maybe she was letting her growing interest in the man create explanations for every surprise she came across at Ravenstoke in order to continue to justify her quick attraction to an absolute stranger.

Just as Sophie groaned inwardly at the convoluted direction of her thoughts, Owen pushed past her into the kitchen. “The storm was baaaad,” he said, heading right for the stove. With the way the boy dragged out that word, combined with the light in his eyes, Sophie imagined what he’d really meant was badass, cool, and awesome.

“It was pretty spectacular,” Sophie agreed as she joined him. “I don’t know about you, but I could hear the windows shaking in their frames all night. One or two times, I thought they might bust right out of the walls.”

“Jade stayed with me.” Owen made a face worse than if he’d swallowed down a tin of rancid sardines. “But I didn’t need her to. I’m not a baby or anything. I’m not scared of bad rain.” The kid suddenly wore a huge smile. “My mom says I might not have to go to school for a whole week cuz of all the mess from the storm.”

Sophie’s thoughts drifted to the battered island and still-tumultuous waters. She could only imagine the destruction on the mainland. “I think your mom might be right.”

As fast as Owen grinned, he hopped up on a stool and grabbed a knife out of a wood block. “My mom said the bread is cool now, and if I’m careful, I can cut it.”

Sophie leaned her elbows on the counter and worked with everything in her to maintain a casual stance and tone. “Your mom?”
Please, please, don’t let my interest come across as more than casual.

Owen nodded. “She made it, so she knows, and that means it’s okay.”

Sophie exhaled. “So Emma’s your mother.”

“Uh-huh.” As Owen nodded again, he flipped the bread onto a plate and sliced off a huge wedge from the end.

Hating her desire to know, Sophie asked anyway, “And your da—”

“Sweetheart.” Emma swept into the kitchen right then, looking harried but lovely, and Sophie snapped her mouth shut. “You were supposed to cut slices for everyone and take them outside.” After joining them at the counter, she raised both eyebrows at her son. “I believe that was my condition. I’m sure you understood it as clearly as I spoke it.”