Defiant: 5 (Noble Passions) (5 page)

All pretense of not peeping evaporated.

He sat and took a moment to work off his boots. And then he
stood. His trousers were tight, as was the fashion, and he had to peel them
off. As he bent, she caught a flash of his bare behind.

She must have made a noise because he whirled around.

His cheek bunched when he saw her watching. “You’re supposed
to have your eyes closed.”

She hunkered in the covers as though that would disguise the
fact that her eyes were open wide.

“Sophia…”

It was probably wrong to grin at him but she couldn’t help
it.

“Sophia Fiona!”

“Stop calling me that. It always makes me think I’m in
trouble.”

“You
are
in trouble. You have no idea how much
trouble you’re in.”

She tipped her head to the side. “We both know Ewan will be
so relieved to see me he’ll forget how angry he is—”

Ned stilled and fixed her with a dark glare. “What makes you
think I’m talking about Ewan?”

“I…ah…”

“I’ve a mind to bend you over my knee.”

Why a shiver rippled through her, she had no idea. She’d
been spanked once or twice as a child and she hadn’t cared for it in the
slightest. But something dark and domineering in Ned’s tone made her womb warm.

“You—you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I? Now look away. Your brother would skewer me if
I gave you the education you’re about to have.”

She attempted not to snort. Ned—and everyone—thought her a
prim and innocent miss on account of the polish she’d acquired at Lady Satterlee’s.
Nothing could be further from the truth. As a child, before Ewan had made his
fortune, they’d lived a hand-to-mouth existence in the slums of Perth. She’d
seen more than one couple rutting against a wall in a dingy alleyway. And at
one point she and her brother had taken refuge in a bordello. She’d been only
seven, but if she’d had an education, she’d gotten it there. She could probably
teach Ned a few things.

Still, because he seemed to expect it, she squeezed her eyes
tight and didn’t hardly peep at all as he finished changing. Besides which, the
spot she was interested in was mostly shadows.

With a great huff, he threw himself back into the chair. “Now
go to sleep.”

“Don’t you want me to put out the light?”

“No. I want to be able to see where you are.”

“I’m not leaving again tonight.” Probably. Unless her
despair overcame her once more.

“Leave it on.” A grunt, and not a very nice one at that. Why
he had call to be annoyed, she couldn’t fathom.

Blast and damn, he was an annoying man. Sophia grunted as
well and rolled over, facing the wall of the cabin. She studied the patterns
the swinging lamp made for a long while, listening as he shifted one way and
then the other.

It was really unfair for him to have to sleep in the chair.
This was his room. But he would never share her bed. She grimaced at the way
the words came out but it was true. He wouldn’t. Unless…

She rolled over again and watched him twist in the chair. He
caught her eye and frowned.

“Ned?”

An impatient groan. “Yes, Sophia?”

“Ned, I’m cold.”

He stilled. Then barked, “Put on another blanket.”

“There aren’t any more.” She faked a shiver. She wasn’t cold
in the slightest. She never was. Ewan said she ran hot. “Brr. My teeth are
chattering.”

His glower became a frown.

“I hope I don’t get ill.”

He paled. “You shouldn’t have gone out in the rain. Why did
you go out in the rain?”

She sneezed. Or something like it. “I don’t know.”

“Sophia?”

“Am I running a fever?” She put her palm to her forehead. “I
think I’m running a fever.”

His brow wrinkled. He stood and made his way across the tiny
chamber as though on his death march. He set the backs of his fingers to her
cheeks. His frown darkened. “You are warm.”

“No. I’m cold.” She shivered and peered up at him, her eyes
as wide as she could make them. “Won’t you warm me?”

He wrenched his hand away as though she’d burned him. “What?”

“Lie here beside me and warm me up?”

“There’s not enough room for both of us.”

“I’m small.”

“Sophia.”

She’d never heard her name in such a strangled voice, not
even when Ewan was at his wit’s end. “Just for a bit? You can be on top of the
covers. Surely that is decent.”

The muscle in his cheek bunched again, as though he was
grinding his teeth.

“Please?”

He gusted a sigh. “All right, Sophia. Scoot over and make
room.”

She did. With alacrity.

“And roll over, facing the wall.”

She frowned at him “Why?”

“Just do it. Please.”

“Oh, all right.” But only because he said please. And
because when she was facing the other way, he couldn’t see her grin.

He settled in behind her and a shiver rocked her. He was
warm. And he smelled delicious. Not fishy in the slightest. It was delightful,
lying here with him. She closed her eyes and imagined he wanted this as much as
she.

If only. If only.

It was hell. Sheer hell lying next to Sophia on that narrow
berth. There was no other word to describe it. With every breath, with each
lunge of the boat, her soft body brushed against his. And with every passing
moment, Ned grew harder. When he was certain he couldn’t possibly be in more
agony, she shifted and her round bottom nudged his cock. He stifled his groan
because he didn’t want to wake her. Arching away, he gritted his teeth.

He’d wanted her for years with a blazing passion. He’d
watched her flit through season after season, dancing and laughing and flirting
and utterly oblivious of him as a man. He’d ceased to exist for her
that day
.
It was burned on his brain, the memory of what he’d said to her as she’d
trotted up to hug him at the Darlington house party. He’d been surrounded by
his friends and stinging from a dual set-down delivered—in tandem—by Ewan and
Edward.

“She’s your sister-in-law,” his brother had growled.

“You’re nae good enough for her,” her brother had spat.

Ewan had spat other things too, including dire threats to
Ned’s person should he so much as speak to her again. So when she tried to hug
him, he’d pushed her away. Called her a pest.

Her expression had slayed him.

Nothing had been the same between them since.

And damn, he missed her. He missed their riotous
conversations. He missed her laughter, her smile. Her spirit.

It was torture being so close to her now, knowing nothing
could come of it.

At the same time, it was heaven. This was all he would ever
have of her. He should savor it.

The ship lurched and he teetered on the edge of the bed.
Madly, he grabbed for the rail built into the wall of the bunk. He’d wondered
why one would build a rail into the wall of a bunk. Now he understood.

Still, it was an awkward position. He lay on his side,
trying desperately not to touch Sophia, with his arm practically around her as
he clenched for purchase and tried to sleep.

Sleep?

Hell, there would be no sleep on this night. Not for him.

But he was wrong.

At some point he must have drifted off, because when he
awoke they had both shifted positions. He was on his back and she was draped
over him with her cheek resting on his chest and her thigh draped over his—

Holy God.

He was stone hard in a breath.

He locked his muscles and tried not to move.

Holy God.

His pulse thrummed in his temple. When she murmured in her
sleep and rubbed her leg up and down on his aching cock, he went cross-eyed.

It felt so good. But it was so wrong.

So utterly wrong.

That her legs were bare didn’t help.

Ewan would kill him simply for entertaining the thoughts
whipping through his mind.

Sophia nestled closer. Her hair scraped against the
underside of his chin. Her hand skated over his chest. The ship heaved and he
tightened his arms around her. Surely that was the reason. The only reason.

She blew out a sigh and her breath danced across his neck.
He squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to imagine it was a kiss.

He’d been with women before—he was hardly a green lad—but he’d
never wanted like this. Never had such a feral need, so strong it made him tremble.
And he was not a trembling man. All he could think of was rolling her over,
spreading her thighs and mounting her. The desire to do so blinded him.

Instead he fisted his hands in the covers and held as still
as he could while she found a comfortable spot on his body.

He must have been a wicked child. He must have committed
some heinous sin for God to punish him so.

But he was a strong man. And he was an honorable man. And he
was a stubborn man. And her brother was very large. So Ned banished his lust.
Wiped it completely from his mind, focusing on a horse he’d seen at Tattersall’s
and the price of tea in India and the lineage of the English kings.

He had almost succeeded in reining in his arousal when her
lips touched his neck, just under his ear.

She was still sleeping, soft and warm against him, but her
lips touched his neck. And then her tongue.

The lust he’d thought quiescent raged to the fore. He could
not hold back his groan. It did not wake her. She riffled a little snore and
settled back down.

Scant moments later, her hand began to rove. She, in her
sleep, rubbed his chest, his sides, his arms. Her palm drifted over a nipple,
sending rivulets of pleasure through him, but still he did not move. Did not
yank her away as he should.

It was far too alluring.

The effort of holding preternaturally still wore on him; his
muscles began to shake. A sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. Still, she
explored him. Her tiny hand skated down—he sucked in a breath—but then it
skated back up again, beneath his shirt. He groaned at the sensation of her
skin on his.

God.

God.

She kissed him again, just a tiny buss, her open mouth
against his neck. Her lips closed in a tiny suck.

His vision blurred.

Thank heaven she was sleeping, else he would have to stop
her.

He would have to stop her at some point, he reminded
himself. He wasn’t sure how long he could bear the torment. In fact, he was
very close to a disaster. Yes. He should stop her. But not yet. Not just yet.

Hell.

He should have stopped her.

She shifted her leg and her palm drifted to his braes.
Before he could push her away, before he could leap from the bed, before he
could so much as assimilate what she was doing, she palmed him.

Every muscle locked. The breath caught in his throat. His
pulse surged.

Hell and damnation.

He looked down to see her gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Fuck.

She was awake. She was awake and she had hold of his cock.

“What’s this, Ned?” she asked in a curious, fiendishly
innocent voice.

“
Jesus, Joseph and Mary
, Sophia. You shouldn’t be
touching that.” He tried to pry her fingers away. She gripped him tighter. He
shuddered as heat boiled through him.

“Why is it so hard?” Her lashes fluttered as she blinked.

“Christ, Sophia, I—”

Ah, God.
She stroked.

Not a light flutter of virginal fingers, but a full-bodied
tug. He gritted his teeth.

“Are all men so large?”

“Sophia—”

“Because you are very large.” Another pump and another. If
she didn’t stop, he would disgrace himself right there in her hand. She shifted
up on her elbow, propped it on his chest and stared down at him. She did not
release her hold on him. “You should explain this to me. I’m to be married, you
know.”

Denial howled through him. Denial and a deep
dissatisfaction. Also, lust.

“Your husband would not appreciate this moment.”

“Husband-to-be.” She shrugged. “And I hardly give a whit
what he thinks. I don’t even know the man, whoever he is.” She smiled and he
was dazzled by the brilliance of it. Too dazzled, apparently, to realize she’d
been distracting him. So she could unfasten his trousers.

With an odd mix of horror and delight, he realized what she’d
done as her hand closed on him. He scrunched his eyes shut and hissed a breath
through his teeth.

God almighty, what bliss. Her warmth. The scrape of her soft
skin. The pressure as she fisted him.

“Hmm,” she said.

His lids flew open. “Wh-what?”

“It’s very smooth. Like velvet.” She nibbled on her lower
lip as she rooted in his braes, tracing him, circling the engorged head. “And
this is damp.”

He grabbed for her wrist but could not stop her exploration.
“Lady Sophia!” He used her title—though it was an honorary title at
best—because he hoped in doing so he could recall her to her station. It did
not work. “You must stop this at once!”

She peered at him with a very naughty smile. “Or what?”

“I am only human. Only flesh and blood. You’re killing me.”

Unaccountably, her smile broadened as she renewed her
heinous caresses, gazing into his eyes and murmuring evil things such as, “You
are so hard, so strong, so rampant.”

He wondered where she’d heard such talk but then all
thoughts fled as she added a circular twist to her wrist.

You should stop her
, a little voice in his head
cried. But it became smaller and smaller as his insanity rose. His crisis neared.
His cock swelled and his balls tightened. Heat boiled at his core. Need and
want and desperation clawed at him.

He writhed, moaned, groaned to her wicked ministrations.

She didn’t know what she was doing, he told himself. It was
all right because she really didn’t understand.

But as he exploded, releasing his passion onto his belly, he
caught her expression and a horrible realization flooded him.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

And she’d done it very well.

Magnificent!

Sophia grinned down at Ned, taking in the ecstasy on his
beautiful face, the shudders and the cries as she pleasured him.
She
pleasured him.

Never before had she felt such raw excitement, such power.

She’d never really understood what had happened to her
brother when he met and married Violet, why with his men he was as bristly as a
bear but when his wife walked in the room, he melted.

And she’d never really understood that smug look on Violet’s
face when it happened.

Now she saw. Now she understood.

As strong and powerful and adamant as Ned was, he’d been
helpless before her touch.

Flushing heartily, he reached to the floor and grabbed one
of the damp shirts to wipe his belly. Sophia watched with avid interest. This
made him flush more.

She grinned.

He caught her expression and winced. “Your brother is going
to kill me.”

“No, he won’t.” She plopped down on his chest and stared up
at him.

“He absolutely will.”

“We won’t tell him.”

He frowned at her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were having trouble sleeping.”

“I was not,” he sputtered.

“You were.”

“Regardless, that is beside the point.”

She tipped her head. “Was there a point?”

“Yes. There was.” He had to think for a moment to remember
it. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Didn’t you enjoy it?” She put out a lip, though she knew he
had. He’d enjoyed it a lot if his moans and cries were any measure.

He frowned. “That does not signify.” Though he was arguing
with her, he was not insisting she move away. Which was promising.

“It signifies very much.” She glanced at him through her
lashes. “
I
enjoyed it.”

“You-you did?” He softened, gazed at her, his lips slack.
And then he recalled himself. “But you should not have done that. Sophia,
gentle ladies do not…” He flourished a hand about his crotch.

“Tug a tallywag?”

His eyes bugged out. “Where did you hear that term?”

She shrugged. He didn’t need to know. “Point being, I always
wondered.”

“Well, stop wondering. Until you’re married.” He seemed to
rethink that. “And even then.”

“Oh, I wonder about lots of things,” she sighed. “They don’t
tell us much in those fancy English schools, you know.”

“I imagine not.” He jerked the placket closed and fastened
his trousers.

“For example, I wonder what that would taste like.”

He froze. Slowly his attention lifted from his frantic
fastening to her face. His Adam’s apple worked. “What, ah, what would taste
like?”

“That.” She pointed to the shirt he’d tossed onto the floor.
“And that.” She pointed to his safely secured, aforementioned tallywag.

For some reason, his breath seized. He wheezed mightily.
Another bulge formed in his trousers. “Jesus, Mary and—Sophia!” He grabbed her
wrist as she cupped him again.

“Is it always hard?” she asked.

He gusted a laugh and muttered beneath his breath something
that sounded like
around you
. Then he firmly, resolutely, dragged her
hand away from the object of her interest.

“You understand my curiosity. They never tell us anything.”

“For good reason. You’re dangerous.”

“I am not.” She pouted. She wasn’t. Not hardly.

He yanked the blankets up over her legs and then pooled the
rest about his lap as though that area needed additional defenses. “Come here,”
he said tugging her against him. She was charmed by his desire to hold her
until she realized he was only doing it to keep her still. Indeed, he grabbed
her hand and held it in his when she once again began foraging. “Tell me what
else you are curious about.”

This was clearly a ploy to distract her. She would not allow
it. He’d allowed her to creep this close. It encouraged her to creep closer
still. “Well, I often wonder how it is done.”

“
It?
”

“You know.”

His muscles tightened. “I am not explaining that.”

“And I’ve often wondered…” She paused. For effect. “If women
enjoy it.” She peeped up at him. In time to see him pale.

“If they did not, there would be no babies, Sophia,” he said
gruffly.

“Oh, I know, Ned. But I don’t really understand.”

“Understand what?”

“What it
feels
like.”

He stilled.

“What it feels like to have a man’s hands touching me. His
lips kissing me. His body over mine, thrusting—”

“Sophia!”

“I’d like to know. Just once.”

“You will.” He set his chin on the top of her head, most
likely so he didn’t have to look at her. The coward. “One day you’ll be married
to a horribly wealthy man and you’ll know.”

“I don’t want a horribly wealthy man. Or a prince.” She
pulled away so he would have to look at her. “I just want someone to love me.
Is that so much to ask?”