Alistair jostled a very wet and shivering pup in his hands as he turned the corner in the hedge leading from Elm Place to Sophia’s little cottage. Bo’s tongue slid out and licked his chin.
He smiled. “What a sweet, stupid mutt you are. Now stop using that devilish tongue of yours to get on my good side. You have caused my life to scramble.” He cringed as the wetness of Bo’s fur soaked through his waistcoat and shirt. “Stupid mutt.”
The door to Sophia’s cottage opened, and Quinton strode out shaking his head. “Stupid. Idiotic fool.”
Alistair stopped at the gate as Lord Quinton strode toward him. Alistair’s fingers fisted in Bo’s fur. The scoundrel would regret having come to Sophia’s. His heart beat rapidly in his chest.
He reached across the wall with Bo in hand and set the mutt on the other side. His hands fisted. If Lord Quinton said one thing to him, he would uncork him right here and now. The gumption he possessed coming to see her after his deceptions!
His heart pounded in this throat. Maybe it didn’t matter if he said something or not. Lord Quinton deserved a good pummeling.
Bo bounded over to Lord Quinton. “There you are little pup. Your mama certainly could use a little kiss from you.”
Alistair cleared his throat. “I imagine after seeing you she can use all the comfort she can get.”
Lord Quinton’s head jerked back. Their gazes locked.
What indeed would Lord Quinton do? The lying fop. He didn’t have the sack to uncork him. Where as Alistair had marbles in spades.
“You have more spine than I thought to come here. What I don’t understand is why you deceived her when you employed Anne. Anne will find you what you are seeking. She never fails.”
“Anne is a dove of a different sort, Alistair. As you are well aware. She sells her services to anyone who employs her talents. She is not more than an overpriced wench.”
“You…you…unclean son of damnation.” Alistair dove over the wall and straight into him. They landed in a hard lump on the cold earth. Limbs tangled and hands slapped.
Alistair never lost his position on top of Lord Quinton. He sat with his legs astride him and pushed himself up. He stared down at Lord Quinton, pinned beneath him on the ground. “You never deserved such a woman. Or the services of such a talent as Anne. She is the best at what she does and she does not sell herself out. Not even to me. For what you have done to Sophia, you deserve your sack to be cut. If I only had the sheeas I would do the deed right now myself.”
“Really. Anne certainly has you tied about her tiny nip.”
“She does have me. I am her confidant and protector. And I have what you crave. I desire Sophia for more than a mistress…. She needs me.”
“You are worse than a dog, Alistair, and she very well knows it. She would never have had you in her bed if I had not lied.”
“But you did, and I have had her. I will not let go.”
“No one has me.” The calm voice of Sophia turned both their heads in the direction of the cottage door. “I don’t want either of you.” She stood like an avenging angel with all the fury of hell in her eyes, her long cloak wrapped about her as she shook with anger. “I made a very big mistake in what I did. The circumstances were nothing like I have ever experienced, but it does not make up for my poor behavior. I won’t be speaking to either one of you again.” She turned calmly and closed the door to the cottage.
Crack. Lord Quinton’s fist hit Alistair squarely in the nose. Blood sprayed across Lord Quinton’s face. Alistair wavered on top of him and his life went black.
On the 15th Day of January
In the year of our Lord, 1823
Lord Quinton,
I am afraid after seeing your behavior on our visit to Elm Place in the month of November, I regret to inform you that I will not be providing one of my girls to you. I also refrain from any further contact and will be sending your monies back minus the cost for my expenses thus far.
Miss Anne Cathcort.
Alistair stared at Anne. Why was she doing this?
“What do you think, Alistair? Is this letter sufficient?” Anne sat at her desk and rolled her pen between her fingers. “Or do I need to mention your scuffle with him over the dove no one achieved?”
The hairs on the back of Alistair’s neck rose. Sophia was no one’s dove. She had all the class of a lady. Alistair stared at Anne as she tilted her head to the side and considered her missive.
He was well aware of Anne’s game. “If you feel you need to send something, it will suffice, Anne. It has been several months since that hellish trip to the country. He no doubt is not expecting any word from you or your girls.”
“Do you suppose he is back with the lovely? Or do you think she truly kept her word?”
Alistair had sent several letters to Sophia after returning to London that very same night, and the only word he got back from her was that she was no longer living in her cottage and now resided in London with her aunt. He stared unseeing at his fingers as he absently cleaned invisible dirt from beneath his polished nails.
“You have genuine feelings for her, don’t you?”
Alistair’s gaze snapped to Anne. Her eyes were filled with compassion. She knew Alistair better than anyone.
“Quite so. I have since I jumped out the carriage and first saw her…her and that stupid mutt of hers.”
“Stupid mutt or not, Alistair, I have never seen you quite so over a woman.” She tilted her head to the side considering him. “I think this is something that you should not shy away from. If you love her—or whatever you wish to call how you are feeling—you should tell her.”
Never in all of his life had a woman entered his heart. Not even his mother. “You believe I love her? Is this what love does to a person, Anne? Makes them sad and fidgety and daft? I do believe the country air simply made me ill.” He rubbed his temple. “I believe I should see a doctor because certainly I am touched in the head!”
“Love is a madness of sorts, Alistair. I know we never really talk much about my past. But love no matter if it is requited is powerful. It affects us in so many unforeseen ways. The emotion ruined me and forced me to wish to help others find their way. For me watching you…the biggest indicator is your lack of interest in other women since we returned.”
Love! His heart did jump in his chest when he thought of Sophia. Yet at the same time it pinched in pain.
“Saint Valentine’s Day will be upon us in a fortnight. You should do something for her…something to show her how you really feel. If you like, I shall help you. I am doing so for another of my clients.”
Show her how I feel.
He shook his head. He didn’t truly know what was happening to him. Anne was correct. He had not futtered a soul since that day with Sophia.
Anne had used her mouth on him once and he had asked her to stop. He cringed. Stop! That was not the only part of him going soft. If word got round the club, he would be looking for another table to drink port and play hazard at.
Something indeed needed to happen, or else he was going to go mad. He needed to futter just like he needed wine.
“Well, Alistair?”
Alistair stared at Anne. She had never given him bad advice yet. “I will follow your advice, but I shall do this on my own.”
Sophia sat with yet another unopened letter from Quinton folded in her hand. She stared at folded yellow parchment with the red seal. She should open the missive. This was the fourth she’d received since arriving at her aunt’s for the New Year, and each she had tossed into the fire without reading.
She had not told him where she had gone, yet he had somehow found her. There was a part of her that wished to open the letter…a part that longed for the passion they had shared to have been more than simply futter partners. Her mind knew better. If the letters said anything at all, it would be simply to restate what he had previously expressed: “I want you. I want to continue to pleasure you this way.”
She sighed.
Then there was Alistair…One week after he’d left Elm Place she received a letter from a Mr. Alistair Taylor. She opened it, only to read two sentences.
“You deserve more than what he or I can offer you, Sophia. Your decision was sound.”
In a weak moment she had sent a short missive to him in reply, explaining her soon-to-be change of residence. A small part of her had hoped she would run into him here in the capital. She realized sending such a note when Alistair was who he was only gave her false hope.
“Ma’am, there is a gentleman here to see Miss Sophia.” The butler held out the silver platter with the calling card perched on top.
Sophia held her breath, not wanting it to be her past coming to haunt her here once again. “Who is it Aunt?”
“It is Mr. Taylor.” Her aunt glanced over at her. “He is the third son to the marquis of Lanktor. Do you know him, dear?”
All the hairs on her arm rose, and her brow drew tight. She had not expected this…“Possibly.”
“Show him in then, Burton.”
Sophia sat perched on the edge of her seat. All the memories came flooding back of his determination to bed her, him pushing her up against the bathhouse wall, him telling her what to do in bed as he found his release had haunted her dreams since that day.
She had not futtered since. She had simply wished to forget she craved such shameful things. To forget the scandalous, wanton behavior she had exhibited.
The door opened and Burton stepped into the room. “Mr. Alistair Taylor.”
Alistair walked in, his fair hair slicked back from his face, excitement dancing in his eyes. Her breath caught. He certainly was handsome…. He bowed to her aunt, and the muscles of his cheek twitched. He turned to her and bowed. “Good morning. I hope you are well.”
“We certainly are, Mr. Taylor. To what do we owe this kind intrusion on our staid day?”
Sophia laughed. “Aunt, am I that boring?”
Her aunt winked at her. “No, dear, but I am.”
Alistair coughed to hide his laugh. “I have come in the spirit of Saint Valentine’s, ma’am.”
“Saint Valentine? What do you mean, Mr. Taylor?” Her aunt’s eyes lit, and she glanced from Sophia to Alistair and back again.
“Please do call me, Alistair, ma’am.”
“Very well.”
“Surely you know of Saint Valentine’s Day?”
“Only its reference by Chaucer as being a day for lovers, Alistair.”
“Indeed.” Alistair winked at her aunt, then strode over to Sophia.
The musky scent of the woods made the flesh of her cunny tingle. Damn him. What was he up to?
“Will you allow me?” he held out a folded parchment to Sophia.
Sophia stared at the missive. “Alistair, what is this about?”
“Please take it, Miss Sophia, and you shall see.”
Sophia’s fingers gripped the thick paper. She placed the parchment in her lap over the letter from Quinton. Oh, two letters…one from a man who lied to her and the other from a man who stood an arm’s reach away. She would only open one.
“Open it, Sophia.”
She cracked the crimson wax seal with the marquis of Lanktor crest. Her fingers shook as she unfolded the paper. Within the folded sheet resided a finely cut paper heart. She picked it up, and on one side of the heart she read…
Miss Sophia,
You have been in my thoughts since the day I pulled you from the road. You and your stupid mutt. You have never left my thoughts…. Your strife endeared you to me. And your soul’s expression slid you deep into my heart. You are the only woman who has ever resided there. I wish you to be mine, Sophia. Mine in heart, body, and soul. I wish us to share all things…will you be my lover, my dear friend, and wife?
Alistair
Sophia stared at the heart and tears trickled down her face. She had in no way expected this from Alistair. He was a man who made no excuses for who he was. But could she trust him? He had said he had his girls.
“What about your girls, Alistair?”
“My girls have all been very disappointed since I returned from my trip to the country…for I have not been able to concentrate on one of them. I will always be honest with you, Sophia. I will be yours and yours alone. I simply never imagined I would feel this way for a woman. So I never considered this outcome in my life’s plans.”
He knelt before her and grasped her hand in his. His hands shook. He was nervous. The warmth and the sincerity in that alone cut through her fears. She smiled. Alistair was so very much the kind of man she desired; both sexually and intellectually. “I believe you, Alistair. As completely unexpected as this event is, I do not believe you would lie to me as Quinton did.”
“Sophia. No one can predict what our life will be. All I know is I need to be with you. Feeling that way, I know I will do all I can to protect you and cherish what we shall build and share. So please take pity on me, Sophia. Wed me, my love.”
Sophia glanced to her aunt, who sat with a huge smile on her face and tears running down her cheeks. She nodded her head at Sophia.
Sophia looked at the man before her. A man she truly did not know all that well. He knew all she was capable of and what her fears were and still wanted her, and she wanted him. She closed her eyes, a smile of joy turned up her lips
“All right, Alistair. Yes, I will wed you.”
Alistair released her hand and scooped her up into the air. He spun her around and kissed her harsh on the lips. “Ah, Sophia you shall never regret you said yes.”