Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (4 page)

Perhaps she was merely dreaming, but if so, she didn’t want to wake just yet. The
truth was, she had never been kissed by a rake before, and she badly wanted to know
what it felt like. And when
this
particular
rake smiled at her with that devilish charm, how could she possibly resist? Especially
when she was feeling oddly rebellious at the moment.

Therefore, Sophie remained perfectly still when Lord Jack cupped the back of her head
and tilted her face up to his. Her heartbeat hammered in her throat as his mouth descended
to cover hers.…

The impact stunned her. The first time his lips had touched hers, the barest pressure
had felt like fire.
This
contact was more like a lightning bolt—No, a dozen lightning bolts assaulting her
at the same time.

He dragged his lips over hers slowly, then more forcefully, before letting his tongue
part the seam and sweep inside. He kissed her deeply, sending a blaze of heat shuddering
through Sophie that made her very blood sizzle.

Wanting to let herself dream just for a little while longer, she closed her eyes and
melted against him. His maleness surrounded her—his hands, his mouth, his intoxicating
scent. After what could have been a moment or a lifetime, she felt herself falling
backward, but Lord Jack was only easing her down so that she lay on the table. With
one strong arm supporting her, he leaned over her, his hard, virile body pressing
against hers while his sensual mouth worked its potent magic.

His embrace was so profoundly arousing, Sophie thought she might die from pleasure,
and when his hand moved to her breast and began lightly fondling the peak through
her gown, she moaned. She felt so dazed and lost, she only vaguely heard someone calling
her name.

Lord Jack froze at the unexpected sound, however.
When her great-aunt’s voice came again from the vicinity of the doorway, he abruptly
broke off his kiss, while Sophie struggled to gather her fractured wits.

“Sophie, dearest, are you here?”

He murmured another quiet curse, evidently frustrated by the untimely interruption.
Disappointment flooded Sophie, swiftly followed by alarm that she might soon be discovered.
Not wanting to be caught in such a flagrant display of passion, sprawled on a library
table, welcoming the sensual assault of a brazen pirate who was not only a stranger
but her family’s chief enemy, Sophie scrambled upright.

With similar urgency, Lord Jack helped her down from the table, then grasped her hand
and whisked her toward the rear of the library, into a reading nook created by a tall
bank of shelves.

Breathing heavily, Sophie managed to find her voice. “I am coming, Aunt Eunice,” she
called before whispering to Lord Jack. “Quickly, you must hide!”

Gesturing toward the draperies that covered the French doors, she indicated his escape
route.

His grin flashed white while a devious sparkle lit his eyes. “What will you give me
to disappear?”

“This is not the time for games!” she hissed frantically. “Please, you have to go.”

“Very well,” he murmured with a theatrical sigh. “But this is not over, beauty.”

To her surprise, he pressed a quick, heated kiss on her lips, then slipped behind
the curtain before she could aid him with a shove. Clearly his audacity knew no bounds,
Sophie thought with exasperation and relief.

Straightening her disheveled gown, she came out of the nook just as her aunt entered
the room.

“I thought I might find you here, poring over some literary tome,” Mrs. Eunice Pennant
remarked. “I wish I could avoid my guests as easily. Did you forget I arranged this
ball for your sake?”

Sophie had never liked lying, especially to her favorite relative, so she settled
for a small prevarication. “I just needed a momentary respite from the dancing, Aunt.”

Her elderly great-aunt’s penetrating gaze surveyed her, making her very aware of her
hammering pulse and flushed cheeks. Mrs. Pennant’s sharp glance then shifted and settled
on the library table, where Lord Jack Wilde’s cutlass still lay gleaming in its leather
scabbard.

“A respite, you say? Honestly, Sophie. I never expected you of all people to be lured
in by a rogue.”

Embarrassed heat flooded her when she realized she’d been found out, but her response
was cut off by her great-aunt.

“We will continue this discussion later, after my masquerade ends. Your parents are
wondering where you went, and Dunmore has been asking for you. For now you had best
put on your mask and cover your hot face. And do straighten your hair. You don’t want
to give the impression you have been indulging in a torrid love affair.”

“No, of course not, Aunt,” Sophie murmured meekly, grateful her elderly relative was
on her side.

She found her mask on the sofa and slipped it on. Yet as she followed her aunt from
the library, Sophie couldn’t help but cast a wistful glance behind her,
wondering if Lord Jack was still there or if he’d escaped through the French doors
into the night.

Her fingers strayed to her still-tingling lips as she remembered his blazing kiss.
Then, with a scoffing sound of self-annoyance, Sophie dutifully exited the library
in order to return to the masquerade ball.

The hour was late when the festivities ended. Once the final guests departed, Sophie’s
parents retired to bed, clearly satisfied with her progress in winning the Duke of
Dunmore—in part, she realized, because they knew nothing of her romantic interlude
spent in the arms of their enemy. They would be appalled to learn she’d been kissing
and cavorting with Lord Jack Wilde under any circumstances, let alone at a ball intended
to reel in his grace. Thankfully her great-aunt had not mentioned her indiscretion.

Yet Aunt Eunice was apparently not willing to forget the incident either.

“A word with you, my dear,” the elderly lady murmured when Sophie would have sought
her own bed. “Pray attend me in my sitting room.”

Suspecting she was about to have a peal rung over her head, she accompanied Mrs. Pennant
upstairs to her elegant suite of rooms. Whenever the Fortins came to London, they
stayed at Mrs. Pennant’s London mansion. And since her parents couldn’t afford the
enormous expense of a London Season, Aunt Eunice had sponsored Sophie’s debut almost
entirely. It therefore stood to reason she would have a large say in their affairs
and their attempts to find a noble husband for their daughter.

The silver-haired lady settled in her favorite chair, prepared to quiz her grand-niece.

“So tell me what happened tonight, Sophie. You were kissing the pirate, were you not?”
Without waiting for a reply, she shot another question. “Who was he?”

Sophie replied truthfully, since there was no point in delaying the inevitable. “The
pirate was Lord Jack Wilde, Aunt.”

Surprisingly, Mrs. Pennant nodded. “I suspected as much, for I recognized his physique.
Few men have such magnificent shoulders as he. But I confess I am shocked at you,
miss.”

Although spurred to defend herself, Sophie tried to keep her voice even. “I assure
you, it was not an arranged assignation. I have never spoken to him before tonight.”

“Then why was he here uninvited?”

“I believe he was acting on a challenge from a member of his family.”

Her aunt’s thin lips twisted into something resembling a smile. “Leave it to a Wilde
to do something that outrageous. I have to admire his gall, however. In my day, men
were bolder than the namby-pamby crop of beaus who flock around you. But surely you
are aware of Lord Jack’s reputation, Sophie. He is a rogue of the first order, and
the very devil with the ladies.”

“So I have heard, Aunt.”

For generations, the fiery, passionate Wilde clan had cut a swath through the bedrooms
and ballrooms of Europe, and Lord Jack was the worst perpetrator
of the current cousins. Reportedly, he loved women and they loved him back.

Certainly Sophie had noticed him before this. How could she not? With his charisma
and brazen, dare-the-world charm, he was impossible to ignore. But she had followed
his career much more closely since spying him at the Arundel Home for Unwed Mothers.

For most society misses—young ladies other than herself—Lord Jack was eminently eligible.
He tantalized marriage-minded mamas and left their daughters breathlessly eager for
his attention. And she’d heard that more experienced females vied for the pleasure
of his bed. He was the sort of hot-blooded lover women dreamed of in dark, erotic
fantasies.

“So did you like it?” her aunt demanded, interrupting her musings.

“Like what?”

“Kissing Lord Jack?”

The impertinent personal question took Sophie aback, but she had only one answer.
“Well … I … Yes.”

He had simply overwhelmed her senses, setting her body on fire while holding her spellbound
in a thick, dreamy pleasure. It was said that the Wildes wielded their legendary charms
like weapons, and she now had personal, incontrovertible proof.

“Thank heavens you enjoyed it,” Mrs. Pennant murmured. “I suppose you would have to
be dead not to. But I worry that your father’s strictures have deprived you of the
simple pleasures every young lady should experience at least once in her life.”

Sophie quelled her surprise at her aunt’s unexpected proclamation. “I do not feel
deprived, Aunt.”

“Well, if you want to indulge in an indiscretion, you could not choose a better candidate.
Lord Jack inherited his wickedness and joie de vivre directly from his mother, did
you know? Lady Clara Wilde fell head over heels for some European nobleman, but they
never married. Young Jack was an audacious scamp in his salad days, although I don’t
believe there was ever any
real
bad in him. In truth, I’ve always found his scandalous deeds amusing—and for a woman
my age, finding entertainment is rare.”

Sophie had purposely familiarized herself with Lord Jack’s outlandish deeds and history
by now. He was the illegitimate son of Lady Clara Wilde, the Marquis of Beaufort’s
shockingly notorious only sister. Thirty years ago Lady Clara had borne a child out
of wedlock and forsaken her family to live in Paris with her lover. When she perished
during the savagery of the French Revolution, her young son had been brought back
to England by his uncle, Stephen Wilde, Marquis of Beaufort, and later officially
adopted.

Sophie, along with most of society, found the entire Wilde brood fascinating. Lord
Jack was actually a first cousin to Stephen’s children—Lady Katharine and the present
Lord Beaufort, Ashton Wilde—and a much more distant cousin to Lady Skye Wilde and
her older brother, Quinn, the Earl of Traherne. Although the Wilde clan boasted a
number of noble titles, Jack’s title of “Lord” was merely honorary.

It seemed Mrs. Pennant was not finished with her inquisition, however. “Setting aside
the impropriety of kissing a strange man, my dear, you realize that you crossed the
line of family loyalty tonight.”

Feeling guilty at the unnecessary reminder, Sophie shifted in her seat. “Yes, I know.”

Her father, Oliver Fortin, had grown up a poor commoner, understandably bitter and
resentful of the Wilde villain who’d deprived his branch of the Fortins of the title
and fortune. The barony might even have returned to their line had Sophie’s brother
not tragically perished from a fever at a young age.

But Mrs. Pennant was not in the least concerned with Oliver’s proper inheritance,
since she was Sophie’s mother’s aunt, related to the Fortins only by marriage. In
fact she thought the feud silly, as Lord Jack did.

At nearly seventy, the wealthy widow was irascible and hard to please, and she thoroughly
disliked Sophie’s father. Believing Oliver to be too controlling and domineering over
his wife, Rebecca, Mrs. Pennant went out of her way to tweak his nose at every opportunity.

Tonight’s ball was a prime example. A masquerade was a bit risqué for the more genteel
denizens of the ton, and the fact that it had been held in the gardens rather than
the ballroom was highly unconventional. Mrs. Pennant had known Oliver wouldn’t approve.

She had also wanted to show up the Duke of Dunmore, who was rather staid and proper.
Thus, she’d invited a number of other eligible bachelors to the masquerade because,
she’d explained, she wanted to give Sophie more choices in whom to wed.

Mrs. Pennant eyed her thoughtfully now. “Your father would be apoplectic if you were
to pursue an association with Lord Jack, but you should know I
would not object. Indeed, I could not be more delighted.”

Sophie’s eyebrows lifted. Far from scolding her, was her aunt encouraging her to revolt
against parental wishes?

“Lord Jack is a handsome devil, you cannot deny,” her elderly relative continued.
“If only I were fifty years younger, he would set more than
my
heart aflutter.” Her gaze sharpened on Sophie. “If you allowed him to kiss you, you
must be attracted to him.”

Oh yes indeed, Sophie thought, remembering his stunning, stolen kisses. He fascinated
her in a forbidden, thrilling sort of way. He wore his raven hair longer than the
current fashion, so that he resembled a pirate in looks as well as deeds—starkly masculine
and sinfully male. When he smiled at her in that rakish, wicked manner, he set her
heart leaping. And when he kissed her, he’d tasted like everything she’d secretly
dreamed of.

But it was the height of foolishness to let herself be captivated by him, Sophie reminded
herself, since nothing could come of it. She could never betray her parents that way.
They had suffered so much from her brother’s death, facing life’s cruelest disappointment,
losing a child. After all their heartbreak and sorrow, she couldn’t hurt them further.

For years she had known it was up to her to restore the family fortunes by making
a good match. Her parents had sacrificed significantly to secure her a promising future,
scrimping and devoting every spare penny to groom her for a future role as a nobleman’s
wife, and she hoped in some small way to make up
for their grief and privation by giving them what they craved most: financial security.