Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (7 page)

Julian forced a smile. "Of course not," he replied, his chest strangely tight. "I would never assume such a thing."

She needed a drink.

Setting the heavy, silver-backed brush on the vanity, Sophia rose from the thickly padded stool, reached for the silk wrapper draped over the foot of her bed and slipped it on over her matching night rail. It wasn't very warm, but it was all she had. Edmund hadn't liked her in warm, heavy fabrics such as velvet. They hid too much, and he liked to have as much of her as possible available to his sight and touch.

The idea of running into Julian while wearing it was almost enough to send her hiding beneath her blankets, but she wasn't about to let his presence in her house interfere with her usual habits. She was going to go to the little room that served as her library, and she was going to sit by the fire and enjoy a glass of wine as she read.

There was very little chance that Julian would stumble upon her sanctuary and even less chance that he would stay there if he did. No doubt he was in his room either writing one of those morose poems of his, or he was asleep— his feet dangling over the edge of the little bed.

The idea of Julian being so uncomfortable made Sophia smile. She imagined those long feet of his, bare and blue with cold, sticking out from beneath the quilts as he shivered and sniffled his way through the night.

Unfortunately, she also imagined the bare legs attached to those feet. And with the thought of bare legs, came the thought of a bare everything else.

"Idiot," she mumbled, fastening her robe around her. The man barged into her house, practically accused her of trying to corrupt his sister, and how did she react? She pictured him naked! And she couldn't even picture him looking disfigured and misshapen. She had to imagine him as perfect and proportionate as only Julian Rexley could dare be.

It was humiliating, degrading and just plain
wrong
. Surely it was some kind of defect in her character that made her think such improper thoughts when it came to Julian. She thought that side of her nature had been duly repressed by her marriage. Edmund had been the only man to know her so…
intimately
, despite all her earlier efforts with Julian. She had thought that finally knowing what all the urges were about would put an end to this longing, but it only seemed to make it worse. She knew what kinds of things a man could do to a woman, the pleasure he could give, and it had only taken one look at Julian to set her wondering what delights he was capable of bestowing.

Just the thought of it made her tingle in places that hadn't tingled in quite some time.

Opening the door to her room, Sophia tiptoed into the dark corridor, avoiding by instinct every creaky floor-board and stair on her way to the library, where Mrs. Ellis would have left a fire burning in the hearth. Sometimes the dear woman even had a glass of wine waiting as well.

The library door squeaked softly as she pushed it open. Light and warmth from the fire greeted her as she stepped inside. Entering this room was more like entering another world, it felt so different from the rest of the house. The library made the drafts and uneven floors and smoking chimneys bearable. This room gave her the strength to shoulder anything Charles threw at her.

After closing the door behind her, Sophia turned toward her chair and froze.

Julian Rexley sat in her favorite chair, a book in one hand, a glass of wine in the other.
Her
glass of wine. He was dressed in nothing but a shirt that was open at the throat, exposing a shameful amount of tan chest and the curly hair that covered it, and trousers that pulled taut across the leg he draped over the arm of the chair. His feet were bare and the glimpse of hairy shin that showed above reminded Sophia of the thoughts she'd had in her bedroom. Thoughts that had her attention flitting back to the spot between his legs where the fabric of his trousers stretched in such a way that her heart tripped at the sight.

Somehow, she managed to lift her gaze to his face before she completely humiliated herself— if she hadn't already, by looking him over like a thirsty woman looking at water. He stared at her expectantly, as though he thought her there for no other reason but to see him.

That was
it
.

"Get out." As the words reverberated in her head, she couldn't believe that she had actually said them.

His expression would be forever frozen in Sophia's memory as one of the most satisfying things she had ever seen. Those low, darkly arched brows of his lifted, creasing his forehead and widening his eyes in an expression of thick-lashed amazement.

"I beg your pardon?" He looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be angry or to laugh.

She had come this far, she couldn't turn back now. Squaring her shoulders, she met his dark gaze evenly. "It was bad enough that you arrived at my home uninvited, Lord Rexley, even worse that I was forced to offer you any hospitality at all, but to find you prowling about at this hour— "

"I am not prowling," he interrupted with an amused expression as he held up the book in his hand. "I am reading."

Heat flushed Sophia's cheeks. Trying to make a fool of her, was he? Well, she didn't need
him
to do that.

"You are sitting in my chair," she continued petulantly. "And you are drinking wine that was left here for my purposes."

Setting aside his book, Julian rose to his feet. He was so tall, so lean and intense. He reminded Sophia of a wolf she'd seen once on display. Long and rangy, the beast had looked more like a lanky dog than a wild animal. It had even let her touch it, but Sophia knew that it would kill her without hesitation if it deemed it necessary.

What would Julian Rexley do to her if he thought it necessary?

"Forgive me," he said in a deceptively mild tone. "I had no idea. There is more wine and another glass if you would like some."

"What I would like," she replied, peevish at his gentlemanly behavior, "is to have some peace and quiet. Can you not take your book and your wine back to your room?"

His lips tilted upward on one side. It made him look cute and boyish. No doubt he'd rehearsed it many times in his looking glass.

"It is warmer down here."

A wave of guilt washed over Sophia. Of course it was. His room was in the far end of the house— the coldest end.

Despite her earlier thoughts, she really didn't want him to freeze. He might catch cold— and that would mean a lengthier stay.

"Then you should stay here." How quickly her backbone dissolved where he was concerned! "I will go."

"The room is not that small," his voice came brusquely as she turned to go. "Cannot we make the best of the situation and share it?"

Lord, the man didn't live up to only the "wolf" in his name but the "ram" as well. He was as stubborn and single-minded as an old goat. Why did he want her to stay?

Frowning, she faced him. He seemed hesitant as he met her gaze. Surely he didn't desire her company, did he? No, it was impossible. He despised her— even more than she despised him, blast it all.

She raised a brow. "I cannot imagine the two of us sharing anything."

What disgustingly awful choice of words, because it conjured up all kinds of naughty images and painful memories— such as all the breath, touches, and secrets they had once shared.

Tilting his head to one side, he didn't look as though he agreed with her. "I believe we share something already."

"What?" Yes, what? A past? A creeping discomfort that was somehow strangely appealing whenever the other was near?

His expression softened, revealing just a hint of vulnerability. "Affection for my sister."

Oh! That wasn't what she had expected. "You believe I care for Letitia then? That I am not out to corrupt her with my wickedness?"

The thinning of his mouth told her that the thought had crossed his mind— and that he hadn't completely given it up, either.

"She is a difficult young woman, Lady Aberley," he replied. "You must love her, otherwise a woman of your rank would not bother with her."

Something in the region of Sophia's heart swelled and began to ache. The blackguard. He always seemed to know what to say to her to get the reaction he wanted.

"Oh." Unable to stare into those bright eyes of his any longer, Sophia dropped her gaze to his neck. His throat was smooth, his flesh shifting over cords and muscle as he moved, his Adam's apple dipping ever so slightly when he swallowed. She could remember the feel of that warm, salty skin beneath her lips, the soft abrasion of stubble against her cheek…

Flushed with shame, she jerked her gaze back to his face. He was watching her with an expression of guarded heat, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking and was trying to rein in his own reaction.

Good Lord, he felt it too! Perhaps if he was any other man, Sophia wouldn't recognize it so readily, but she and Julian had never bothered to hide their desire from each other in the past, and because of that, neither of them could hide it now. So if she could see it so plainly in his eyes, then he could undoubtedly see it in hers.

Oh no
.

This couldn't be. It was ludicrous! There was no way they could feel the way they did about each other and still want each other in
that
way! It was perverse.

"I had forgotten how incredible you look with your hair down." His voice was little more of a whisper, but it shook Sophia right to the very soles of her feet. She hated her hair and he knew it. It was thick and poker straight and so heavy that she couldn't wear it any longer than just past her shoulders before the weight of it started to give her headaches.

"Last time you saw me with my hair down you ruined me." It was the only thing she could think of to ease this awareness between them. Despising Julian was safe. Wanting him wasn't.

"I remember removing the pins." The heat in his gaze cooled a fraction. "You ruined me as well."

Sophia supposed he meant that his reputation had not gone unscathed either, but there was a hint of something deeper in his voice, as though he meant she had ruined him for other women as well.

She met his gaze and the trembling in her stomach intensified. "I only wanted to marry you."

"I know." He said it in such an accusatory fashion that Sophia would have to be completely witless to miss his meaning. It was no secret that he thought she had sought to trap him. What hurt was that he hadn't wanted to be trapped by her.

"Yes, well thank God I did not succeed," she replied, her voice stilted with emotion. "No doubt we both would have come to regret the union."

He had the nerve to smile at that, his mouth curving upward at one corner— mocking her pain. "Perhaps." He raked her with a stare that was nothing short of carnal. "Some aspects of the union might have proved themselves quite enjoyable."

An inferno raged beneath Sophia's skin. Indignation and sexual attraction simmered her blood. But there was no shame. It would be easier to despise him— and herself— were there only a little shame.

She straightened her shoulders as the weight of his gaze settled heavily on her breasts. "It is a little late for regrets, do you not think?"

That honey-clear gaze lifted to hers. The smile and all trace of emotion was wiped clean. "I have no regrets."

Face flaming, Sophia turned to leave him. Let him have her library. In the morning he would be leaving and she would wish him good riddance.

His voice stopped her before she took a step. "Are you and Aberley lovers?"

What
? Stunned, shocked and frozen to the very core, Sophia could only gape at him. After all that had happened between them, he had the nerve, the unmitigated gall to ask if she and Charles were lovers?

"What in the name of heaven makes you think that my personal life is any of your concern?" She demanded, her fists curling tightly at her sides.

Julian's eyes brightened. In the lamplight they were a warm chocolate brown, but Sophia knew that in reality they were almost as amber and as dangerous as that wolf's. He took a step toward her, those sensuous lips curving into a slight, but assured smile.

"Because," he said, his voice soft and gravelly, "you used to be more discriminating than that."

Staring at him, Sophia wasn't certain whether she should laugh or scream. Of all the puffed up, stupid male arrogance!

She fixed him with what she hoped was a haughty expression. "In fact, my preferences have much improved since I was a girl."

The blasted man had the nerve to look more amused than affronted. He took another step toward her. "Oh?"

Nerves jangling like warning bells, Sophia took a step back and bumped into a chair. Her action did not go unnoticed. Julian's smile grew even more predatory as he took yet another step closer.

Ashamed that she'd let him see how much he affected her, Sophia lifted her chin defiantly. "Yes. I'm not quite as stupid as I used to be. It takes more than a pretty face to turn my head now."

"Does it?" He was so close now she could smell him. He smelled of that distinctly masculine smell that was Julian and…lavender? Of course, Mrs. Ellis had prepared a bath for him. The only good soap in the house was Sophia's own. It was both unsettling and arousing to smell her own scent mingled with the warmth of his skin.

"Of course." She held his gaze, despite the fact that he was standing close enough to touch— close enough that she wanted him closer, even as her brain told her to run away. "And you?"

He tilted his head again. "I believe my taste has improved somewhat as well. Although I fear that in some respects I'm every bit as stupid as I ever was."

Her heart hammering against her ribs, Sophia could only stare at him as he lowered his head to hers. Against her own volition, her eyelids fluttered shut as the soft warmth of his lips brushed against hers.

It felt so good it hurt. He didn't try to force his tongue into her mouth as Charles had that time he had grabbed her in the parlor. He seemed content just to press the sweetness of his lips to hers, capturing first her upper lip, then the bottom one between his own, teasing her with the hot wine sweetness of his breath as he drew her deeper and deeper into the dark ache that threatened to envelop her.