The Infamous Rogue (11 page)

“I think the party is going to the park for an afternoon of boating. The earl’s sister is organizing a waterside picnic, too.”
“Hmm.” The matron twisted her lips in thought. “We will all be at the picnic, so there isn’t much chance of him proposing to you there…but a boat ride sounds romantic. We must get you and the earl alone in a rowboat. He will surely ask for your hand then.”
There was a quiver of doubt in Sophia’s breast. “I was alone with the earl tonight. We were together on the terrace. He did not propose, however.”
“Drat!” But then the matron paused and eyed her charge. “You were alone with the earl tonight?”
“Briefly.” She was swift to impart, “He was a perfect gentleman.”
The older woman’s lips puckered. “I trust he was; the earl is not a rogue.”
Unlike Black Hawk. The pirate lord had come upon her shortly after the earl. And he
was
a rogue, with his sinful touch and wicked words. She was woozy just thinking about their encounter.
“You must never put yourself in a questionable position, Miss Dawson.”
Sophia’s sensual thoughts snapped. “Yes, Lady Lucas.”
“It is one thing to sail with the earl during the day and in full public view. However, you mustn’t be alone with him in the dark, even for a moment. It might ruin your reputation.”
Sophia’s heart started to thud. What then would being alone with Black Hawk do to her reputation? Smash it beyond recognition, she supposed. The very thought was chilling, and she shuddered.
“I understand, Lady Lucas.”
The matron nodded. “Lord Baine is an honorable man. Even if a scandal had resulted from the encounter, I suspect the man would’ve immediately proposed to save your good name. He is not the sort to take initiative, but if pushed…”
“What is it, Lady Lucas?”
“That’s it!”
Sophia pinched her brows. “What’s it?”
“We will push the earl.”
“Off the boat?”
The woman looked aghast. “No, my dear. We will push the earl to propose.”
“How?”
“We will use Captain Hawkins to make the earl jealous.”
Sophia’s heart dropped. She trembled at the thought of using the captain. She trembled at the thought of what he might do to her “good name” if he ever discovered the ploy. “But you said scandal will ruin—”
“Yes. Yes. Scandal
will
ruin a young lady’s reputation. But we will not cause a scandal, my dear.”
“Then what will we do?”
“It’s obvious the captain is smitten with you.”
Blood throbbed in her veins. “It is?”
“He admires you all the time.”
Sophia did her utmost to ignore the brigand in public. Did he really admire her “all the time”? Something stirred in her heart at the thought. Something suspiciously akin to sentimentality. She quickly stomped the feeling dead. The blackguard wasn’t smitten with her. He just wanted to make her miserable with his piercing stare, unnerve her.
“Do you remember what Lady Rosamond said the other night?”
Sophia’s head was unfortunately filled with thoughts about Black Hawk; there was room for little else. “No.”
“‘Let the barbarian admire you from afar,’ she had said. And so you will. The more the captain admires you, the more the earl will see you are worthy of admiration. Jealousy can be a powerful motivator.”
Sophia wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. She pressed her fingers to her breast to quiet the quick bangs of her heart.
“Come.” The matron took her by the hand and dragged her off the bed. “We must prepare the dress you will wear tomorrow. We should pick another sparkling jewel to match the outfit, too. Baubles capture a man’s interest.”
After another few minutes the matron had decided upon the proper attire, and Sophia had consented to the garb and jewels selected. At last she was alone in the bedchamber.
She rubbed her brow, thinking about tomorrow—and using Black Hawk to make the earl jealous. The matron was adamant the scheme would work. But she wasn’t privy to the past between her charge and the captain. The woman would balk if she ever discovered Sophia’s sinful affair with the pirate. She would do everything in her power to keep her and the brigand apart then. The matron might even dismiss Sophia from her sight entirely. But she would not suggest Sophia cross swords with the devil, that much was for sure.
Sophia closed her eyes. She really
was
getting a headache now.
She moved toward the adjoining room. The ceramic tiles were cold beneath her warm feet. A sharp memory returned: cool cedar planking under her bare toes.
Sophia shrugged off the reflection as she shrugged off the silk wrapper. The garment slipped silently to the floor.
She dipped her hand in the water, testing the temperature. It was warm, but not hot. She made a grimace. Still, she resigned herself to a tepid bath and stepped into the tub.
Quickly her bones sighed. Stiff muscles loosened, too. She watched the dreamy candlelight dance across the wall and lull her senses…but soon a distinct throbbing distracted her from the respite.
Sophia glanced at her leg. The water was still, and she looked at the marks on her outer thigh.
Her leg surfaced. She pressed her knee just under her chin to better examine the scratches.
The skin was flushed, the nail marks a deep red and glossy from the water. She eyed the wound, stinging. Her thoughts pounded in her head, her mind crowded with sensations and memories.
The tub quickly morphed into James; it cradled her as he had cradled her. The water kissed her skin in every place, embracing her.
Sophia skimmed her fingertips lightly across the scratches. Back and forth she stroked the swelling marks, thinking about James. Thinking about the man’s touch in the woods…on the terrace. Such small touches, so short in pleasure. But the impressions lingered afterward.
Sophia slipped her leg beneath the water’s pristine surface again. She rested her head against the tub, breathed deep to quash the heat stirring in her belly. But the pirate lord’s damnable caress still haunted her thoughts, her flesh. His fingers still moved over her body and tortured her senses.
Sophia pressed her hand against her belly. The muscles bounced. She was tight. Even the warm water failed to soothe her, to douse the fire in her blood.
Slowly she slipped her hand between her breasts. She rubbed the bone there. Softly at first. Then with more vigor.
She splayed her fingers…reached for her nipples. There she ached. There the nerves thrummed with need and begged for satisfaction.
Sophia brushed her nipple with the pad of her thumb. Her heart beat wild and sure under the ministrations. The sore nub puckered and stretched under her quick and hard strokes. She rubbed and rubbed, searching for release. The tip of her breast was so tender, painfully so.
She bit her bottom lip hard to quell the groan rising in her throat. She moved in the water, undulated her buttocks in the pool. Small waves appeared, lapped against her swelling breasts.
She gasped as the pressure and tenderness settled between her thighs. She cursed the brigand for putting her in such a raw and burning state. Cursed him to hell.
“Oh, James!”

James stood beside the window, transfixed.
He braced his hands against the frame, arms outstretched. The glass was open. The breeze whisked inside the room. Curtains quivered. Candlelight flickered.
But he remained still.
Perfectly still.
Across the courtyard was another window. Inside the candle flames danced. Something else danced, too.
Shadows.
James watched the shadows…he watched the naked woman inside the room making the shadows.
He had aroused her. And the satisfaction in his blood was keen. The pain was also intense. The pain he had for her. The ache.
She slipped her hand between her breasts. It was the only part of her he could see from his vantage point. But then…
The hungry growl in his belly slowly turned into a howl as he observed her hand dip below the water.
He imagined her as she tickled her quim. She gasped his name; he heard the begging words in his head.
James touched the scratches at the back of his neck. He spread his fingers apart to match the spacing and stroked the wounds, the marks she had made on him.
“Sophia.”
He breathed the name like a spell, a curse. She was a witch. She ensnared him with her need, called to him with her desire.
But he would not come to her. He would not give her the pleasure she craved. If she wanted his touch, she would have to come to him—and beg for it.
Chapter 10
S
ophia strolled between the rows of great oak trees lining the thoroughfare. It was a quaint park, well manicured. The cooing birds, the soft patter of the water were idyllic. The sounds quieted the fierce storm in her breast.
She had searched for satisfaction last night, searched for pleasure. But her own fingers hadn’t smothered the passion in her blood. Not all of it. Embers of longing still burned in her belly.
“Isn’t it a lovely day, Miss Dawson?”
Sophia moved through the unnatural beauty of the landscape, so symmetrical and tame. She moved through it like a shadow in a dream.
“Yes, very lovely.”
She was exploring the grounds with Imogen. The earl and captain had yet to join the party. The men had gone horseback riding. And Sophia wasn’t prepared to endure the company of so many ladies alone. There was a harmony in the air when the gentlemen were present. The ladies tended to keep their sharp tongues somewhat dull.
“I’d like to think we’re friends, Imogen.”
The woman smiled. “So would I.”
“Then please call me Sophia.”
Imogen appeared sheepish. “I must admit, I don’t make friends easily.”
Sophia glanced at her. The young woman wasn’t like the other ladies. She didn’t have a quick tongue. How had she befriended such a posh brood?
“How long have you been friends with Lady Rosamond?” said Sophia.
“For three years.”
“And you met her at finishing school?”
“Oh no! I didn’t have the means to attend the best finishing school in Switzerland. I still don’t. Mondie and I met through our parents. My father offered the late earl financial advice.”
“I see.”
“Mondie befriended me.”
Sophia heard the indifference in the young woman’s voice. “You didn’t return her affection?”
“Not at first.” She shrugged. “We are…dissimilar in so many ways. Perhaps you’ve noticed?”
“Well, I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s all right.” The girl chuckled. “It’s very simple, really. Every young lady needs friends…but Mondie is very selective.”
“How so?”
“She doesn’t want anyone to outshine her.”
“Imogen!” Sophia gasped, feigning outrage. “That was very frank.”
“Forgive me.”
“Nonsense. I appreciate it. You can be frank with me all you like.”
She smiled again. “I have a gift for music, Anastasia is well-bred, and you…”
“I have money.”
“Yes.” She laughed. “Meanwhile, Mondie has all three traits.”
“I see.”
Was that why the earl’s sister had befriended her? Because she had
one
desirable aristocratic trait and no more?
Sophia made a moue.
“I accepted Mondie’s friendship at my parents’ behest.” Imogen folded her hands behind her back. “Mondie’s patronage raises my own social standing, so I can make a more respectable match.”
Sophia lifted a brow. “And have you made a respectable match?”
The girl fell quiet.
“Pardon my intrusion.” Sophia dropped the banter in her voice. “I should not have inquired about something so personal.”
“It’s not that,” she said quietly. “I want to tell you…I sense you’re an honorable woman, Sophia.”
Some might not think so, she thought. Black Hawk considered her a coldhearted viper. But she dismissed the devil from her mind.
“I trust you won’t betray my confidence,” said Imogen.
“I can keep a secret.”
Sophia had so many of her own that one more seemed a trifle.
“I’ve met someone,” whispered Imogen. “He’s wonderful. Handsome and kind…I love him!”
Sophia listened to the young woman’s heart, bursting with passion. She had once guarded such romantic ideas in her head, too. But that had been a long time ago.
“I’m happy for you, Imogen.”
The girl’s features fell flat. Tears appeared in her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” said Sophia.
She sniffed. “I can’t be with him.”
“Why?”
“He’s not the sort of man my father would approve. He isn’t suitable.”
An image came to mind: an image of a rogue like Black Hawk. The impulse to protect Imogen from such a man welled in Sophia’s breast.
“Perhaps it’s best if you listen to your father’s counsel,” she said gently. “If the man isn’t suitable—”
“You don’t understand. He is respectable. But he is…Jewish. I’m afraid my father would disown me if I married him.”
“I’m sorry, Imogen.”
“It’s so hard to be apart from someone you care about!”
Sophia listened to the woman’s suffering. It was romantic rubbish. The wound in Imogen’s heart would heal with time. The girl was naïve. It was better to make a respectable match than to live in ignominy. She would learn the truth one day. Love wasn’t real. Desire ensnared the senses, fooled the heart. But desire wasn’t worth the pain of disgrace.
“Listen to me blather.” The girl wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I’m souring your good mood with my melancholy.”
“Rot.” Sophia slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her. “I cannot help you, but I hope I can offer a sympathetic ear.”
“And that you have. Thank you.”
Sophia smiled. The two women walked the length of the thoroughfare and returned to the riverside picnic.
“There you are, ladies,” said the earl. He bounded up to them in greeting. “The captain and I had prepared to search the park for you. We feared you both lost.”
Sophia’s heart quickened. The captain was positioned beside a tree. He stood under the canopy of leaves, arms folded. He watched the quiet river with a thoughtful expression—and for the first time since their reunion she desired to know his thoughts.
The man was detached from the party in both proximity and regard. He still emitted an unfriendly aura…but he also emitted a seductive one. That lazy stance belied a maelstrom of feeling.
Sophia sensed his restlessness…and the sentiment inspired fretful feelings in her own breast. She was supposed to make the earl jealous. She was supposed to use the captain to encourage the earl to propose. But their truce was so tenuous. If she flirted with the black devil, even in jest, she might get the earl’s attention—but she would also get Black Hawk’s.
Sophia quieted her wild heartbeat with a few measured breaths. “How was your ride, my lord?”
“Spirited, Miss Dawson.” He eyed the emerald bauble at her bust; it matched her rich green frock. “Come and sit, ladies. You must be parched after your long walk.”
Imogen approached the picnic blanket and settled beside Anastasia. Sophia was prepared to take a seat, too. However, the cool breeze coming off the river was so inviting, she approached the shoreline instead.
“I’ve procured a boat for the party,” said the earl. He stepped beside her and gestured toward the raft staked in the ground. “We shan’t all fit inside, but the captain and I will take turns ferrying each of you across the river. The scenery is marvelous.”
“Oh yes, I long for a boat ride,” said Sophia.
The earl beamed. “Well, then—”
“Perhaps Miss Dawson will accompany me in the boat?” The man’s voice was low yet commanding. “She is keen to see the scenery and I would be happy to take her.”
Sophia gulped. A dry heat closed her throat. She stared at the glassy water. She ignored the barbarian. But the man’s deep and penetrating glare was impossible to snub.
She glanced at Lady Lucas. The matron bobbed her head in accord. She even smiled.
“Your parasol, my dear,” said the woman.
There was a feeling in Sophia’s gut that stirred with each shaky step. She crossed the lawn and took the parasol from Lady Lucas before she approached the captain.
The brigand was formidable. The restless energy inside him strengthened with each step she took, she sensed it. He was calling to her, beckoning her to approach.
Come to me.
Blues eyes, so mesmerizing. A strength so pulsing and raw…
Sophia licked her lips. She was trapped. He was watching her keenly, summoning her. The rest of the party was watching her, too. She had to restrain the restive impulses inside her. She had to remain composed.
“Thank you, Captain.”
He eyed her with the care of a hawk. The man’s lips twitched into a handsome smile.
She shuddered.
James helped her into the boat before he removed the stake from the ground and pushed the craft into the water.
He stepped inside, his boots wet.
Sophia chewed on her bottom lip. She glanced at the shoreline slowly fading away. The earl was still standing beside the river. He was looking at her differently…possessively.
Lady Lucas had been right: jealousy
was
a powerful motivator. The earl would soon propose, she was sure. However, Sophia would have to suffer plenty to get the man’s title.
She lifted the parasol and quickly blocked the party from her sight. If only there was a way to blind the black devil from her eyes, too. The man’s glare was making her blood burn.
Sophia stared at the scenery: well-hewed grass, brilliant wildflowers, majestic trees. But it wasn’t easy to ignore the brigand. He always commanded attention with his presence. Even if she averted her eyes, her other senses obeyed the man’s call…robust musk filled her lungs…the soft splash of water danced in her ears as he powered the boat’s movements with his meaty hands.
He shifted his boot, bumped her toes. She quickly tucked her feet beneath the bench, her pulse thumping.
After a few quiet minutes, the brigand set the oars aside…and caressed the brass buttons of his coat.
She watched, transfixed, as he removed the fresh-pressed garment, shrugged it off his wide shoulders in a slow and teasing manner. He was dressed in a clean white shirt and tight gray vest. She could see…nay, she could feel the man’s strength thrumming through the crisp apparel.
Sophia’s heart quivered. A longing stirred in her breast…a longing to see more…to feel more.
She curled her fingers around the parasol.
He next set to work on his cravat, stripping the material from his neck with an almost eager resolve.
Sophia’s heart pulsed as she watched the sinewy muscles in his neck throb. Sweat gathered between her fingers. He slowly reached for his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, revealing stalwart fists and thick forearms. He was starting to look like Black Hawk, the pirate. He was starting to look like the lover she remembered from the island.
“Are you going to take off
all
your clothes?” she finally snapped.
He picked up the oars again and rowed with more agility. “Is that a request, sweetheart?”
“No!”
Flushed at her erroneous—and erotic—assumption, she returned her gaze to the tranquil landscape. There were other couples strolling the shore, even children frolicking. Sophia might be trapped in the boat with the black devil, but she was safe. She was in full public view. There was nothing the bounder could do to her—except set her senses afire.
“The harridan didn’t seem too worried about our boat ride together.” Without a cravat, the man’s collar parted. The muscles at his neck and chest strained as he maneuvered the oars. “I wonder why?”
Sophia was bewitched by the beads of sweat that formed on his skin, glistening in the sunlight. She imagined pressing the tip of her tongue to the salty drops in ravishment.
“Are you thirsty, sweetheart?”
She inadvertently licked her lips. There was a smoldering look in the man’s eyes. She swiftly gathered her wayward thoughts.
“You heard what the earl said.” She looked at the bucolic countryside again…but something tugged at her eyes, forcing her to gaze at the brigand once more. “You’ll each take turns rowing one of the ladies across the river, remember?”
“Yes, I look forward to it…Let’s hope the boat doesn’t turn over.”
There was a wicked gleam in his eyes. Sophia wondered if the man would really capsize the craft with one of the other ladies aboard.
She wouldn’t put it beneath him.
“You still haven’t answered my question. Why didn’t the harridan make a fuss?” he said. “I am a barbarian, after all. It’s her duty to protect you from me.”
Sophia snorted. “I can protect myself.”
“Yes, I know. It was I who taught you, remember?”
He had gifted her with the knife she had tucked between her breasts. He’d instructed her how to wield it, too. But the steel blade and leather sheath seemed so heavy to her now: a burden rather than an asset. “Then what’s your point, Black Hawk?”
She shifted, her buttocks sore. The wood planking was hard, and the moisture forming beneath her thighs and posterior was making her uncomfortable.
“I was sure the harridan would’ve preferred the earl show you the scenery instead.”
The frilly parasol offered little comfort and shade under the man’s blistering glare. He was clearly prodding her for an incriminating answer.
“If you thought that,” she said, parched, “then why did you offer to take me on the boat ride?”
He shrugged. “For the same reason you so readily consented…to make the earl jealous.”
Sophia took in a sharp breath through her nose. Her heart started to pound with more vigor.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” The man’s lips curled into a sinful smile. “Did you think the barbarian too stupid to figure out your ploy?”
She was quiet. She didn’t know what to think. The man always disturbed her senses, tossed her wits overboard, as it were.
“If you want to make the earl jealous,” he said in a low and seductive voice, “there are other ways besides the boat ride…”
The dark and sensual look in his eyes was so inviting, Sophia’s heart pinched. “I have my knife, Black Hawk.”