Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

He had not intended to kiss her, only to pay her for his ducking. Then he felt her in his arms, felt her slender, curved body through the soaking cloth and, as they surfaced chest to chest, felt her nipples hardening against his own.

‘Sophie darling,’ he murmured. ‘May I kiss you?’

She looked up at him, eyes wide, lashes wet. ‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure? Before, I should not have assumed– ’

‘Yes,’ she repeated, impatient, and her arms curled around his neck. He felt the strange mixture of body heat and cool cloth against his own heated skin, tasted her mouth, slid his tongue into the soft warmth.

She kissed him back, her tongue found his and began to play, tentative, wildly erotic.

Hal shifted his grip and broke the kiss, leaving her protesting, ‘No, Hal, don’t stop.’

‘I won’t, sweetheart,’ he assured her. Not yet, not quite yet… He swept her up in his arms and waded out of the water, laid her down on the short-cropped turf of the bank.

The sun was beginning to set sending slanting shafts of light through the willow fronds, sparkling on the disturbed surface of the brook. It reflected on the wet planes of his naked chest as he pulled off the clinging shirt and tossed it aside and as he bent over her again he could see the droplets like diamonds on her brows and lashes.

She reached up her arms to pull him down again. He felt as though he was in a dream amidst the dappling light, the quiet sounds of the evening countryside. The two of them were in another world, one in which reality did not exist, time had been suspended and they were the only people.

‘Kiss me again,’ she murmured as he rested on his elbow just to look at her.

‘Don’t be impatient,’ he chided softly. ‘We have all the time in the world.’ Time to show her pleasure, time to savour her before he must stop. Would stop.

 

Sophie felt his fingers on her shirt buttons, then the sodden fabric was being eased from her body. Suddenly shy, yet trusting Hal absolutely, she closed her eyes. feeling only his sure fingers trailing tantalisingly down the curve of her shoulder until they cupped the warm, yielding curves of her flesh.

His fingers were mapping the route and his lips followed, nibbling, tasting the wet skin of her shoulder and then down to tease the aroused nipple below.

With a gasp of shocked pleasure Sophie pulled his head down, arching against the source of this delight. She had had no idea that kissing could be like this, no idea that Hal’s lips could send such wonderful messages to her body. Messages that she could scarcely comprehend, but which her betraying body seemed to understand by instinct.

She became hazily aware of his fingers, of his finger-tips brushing the sensitive skin of her stomach. This is what it is to be ruined. It is wonderful.

Then, as though she had heard her own thoughts properly, she stiffened. Ruin. No. She said it, sharper, harder than she meant. ‘No, Hal, no. You must not. We must not.’

Hal’s fingers stopped moving, he slowly moved his hand away from her body and sat up.

‘No,’ she repeated fiercely, confused by what she saw in his eyes.

‘You thought I would – ’

Before he could complete his sentence Sophie twisted away as the realisation of what had happened, how she had responded, hit her. ‘How dare you assume... presume... that I would... that because I am ruined I will give myself to you?’

Hal got to one knee and reached for her. ‘Sophie, I don’t. I would not – ’ he took a deep breath and tried again. ‘Sophie, you are an innocent, I know that. But you must know that this escapade has only one possible outcome?’

‘Oh, yes, I do understand,’ she stormed at him. ‘I understand only too well.’ He would seduce her because the whole world would assume that he had. And dukes did not marry the sisters of obscure country gentlemen, especially those with a shadow over their name already. He would pay her off, of course. Make sure she was well established, she was sure.

Tears she was too proud to shed prickled the back of her eyes. She loved Hal, she had trusted him, and now it seemed that he was like all the others, only after one thing, even if he did stop when she told him to. She threw the nastiest accusation she could think of at him. ‘Are your appetites so insatiable that you are not satisfied unless you have a woman a day? Was that painted female last night not sufficient?’

Hal’s face was rigid, but he reached for her again and, suddenly panicking, Sophie hit out at his hand, missed and slapped him hard on the cheek. The sound of the blow seemed very loud in the still evening air. Sophie crouched on the bank, a wave of shame and dismay washing through her.

He got slowly to his feet, his face bleak, the marks of her fingers red on his cheek. He stood looking at her for a long moment, then bent, tossed her shirt to her, picked up his own clothes and walked off without another word.

Sophie watched him stride away, her eyes, although they were misty with tears, fixed on the rivulet of water tracing the line from his nape down the length of his spine. She put her hands over her breasts, suddenly unbearably aware of her nakedness, then, suddenly too weary to move, sat huddled in the warm evening sun.

At last some sort of composure returned and with it, common sense. She reached for her shirt, wrung out the remaining water and put it on with a grimace. Her shoes at least were dry, and she thrust her bare feet into them.

Where was Hal, and how would he be with her when she found him? She realised she had no idea. No idea how this man would behave, despite the days and nights she had spent in his company. Well, wherever he was, and whatever his mood, they had to eat. She collected up the trout, wrapped each in a large dock leaf, and trudged back to where they had left the horses.

Both animals were grazing peacefully in the shade and the fire was burning well. But there was no sign of Hal. Sophie took refuge in practical tasks. The saddlebags were under a tree and she found a clasp knife which was sharp enough to gut the trout. She cut small forked stems to make a support over the fire, skewered the fish on straight sticks and set them to cook as old Cobbett, the gamekeeper in Hertfordshire, had shown her. She spread a clean kerchief on a flat stone for a table, added the salt and the heel of the loaf and dipped the flask in the stream to fill it with cool water.

Her hands moved mechanically on these practical tasks, but her mind was running round and round the events of the past hour like a dog in a turnspit. No, she should not have hit Hal. And, yes, she had learned a lot, especially what happened when a man got aroused. And she had also learned how susceptible she was to Hal’s lovemaking. How could it be otherwise, when she loved him?

But he should not have tried to take advantage of her like that. She had trusted him with her story, and now it seemed he had taken it as a carte blanche to seduce her.

‘But I love him,’ she said to the fish as they smoked gently over the fire. How could she still love him when she was so disillusioned? But then, he had stopped when she had told him to. But...

A snapping twig made her turn her head sharply, cutting into her tangled thoughts. Hal stooped under the willow fronds as he walked into the clearing and Sophie eyed him cautiously. He was wearing a dry shirt, but his hair was still damp and tousled, which only served to make him look more attractive than ever, unfortunately.

‘That smells good,’ he said by way of greeting, nodding towards the trout.

‘Yes,’ Sophie agreed. ‘They are almost ready to eat.’

They both fell silent, this small interchange exhausting the conversation. After several minutes of wary silence while Sophie collected a handful of dock leaves for plates and Hal sat down on the far side of the fire, she asked, ‘Shall we eat now?’

‘I’m starving,’ Hal admitted, his face relaxing slightly as he tore the bread into pieces.

Sophie thought that he was probably relieved she hadn’t thrown a fish at his head. She lifted the spitted trout gingerly and managed to push them off on to the leaves without burning her fingers.

Just as she was raising a portion to her lips Hal said abruptly, ‘Sophie, what happened just now... I think you may have misunderstood my meaning.’

She put the fish down again and stared at him, taken aback. She had expected him either to apologise, or to be angry with her. Not to start discussing it. She reacted rather more sharply than she intended. ‘On the contrary, sir, I understood your meaning only too well. I may be innocent, despite your continued efforts to the contrary, but I do understand quite well what you were trying – ’

‘For heaven’s sake, Sophie, stop calling me sir in that tone. All I was trying to say was that as we both seem to have a strong attraction for each other, and as – ’

‘That is no reason for you to try and seduce me,’ Sophie protested indignantly. From the look on Hal’s face she was only too aware that he could truthfully claim that she had not needed much seducing.

‘If you will let me finish, what I was trying to say was, that as we are going to have to get married anyway, why not anticipate some of the pleasures beforehand? It won’t change anything,’ he added as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. ‘But of course, if you do not wish it, I would not dream of so much as kissing you. I was about to stop when – ’

Sophie realised she was sitting with her mouth open and hastily closed it. ‘Married?’ she croaked.

‘Yes, married. It was inevitable from the moment that wheel came off the carriage and I could not get you home that night. Admit it, Sophie, you must know it is inevitable.’

He shook his head as her stunned silence stretched on and for the first time his lips relaxed into a smile. ‘Sophie, surely you must know that there is all the difference in the world between a youthful escapade from which you were rescued within a matter of hours by your brother and with no-one else, whatever he says, aware of the facts, and this. You and me here. You and me, alone for days and nights. You dressed as a boy in my company. You sharing a chamber with me in Newark, dining with me in public.’

‘But no-one knows. It doesn’t matter.’

Hal raked his hands through his hair. ‘You know. George knows. At least, he knows you are away without his permission and with goodness knows who. And I am honour-bound to marry you.’

Oh. So that was it: he was honour-bound to marry her. It was not that he liked her, cared for her – it was too much to hope that he might love her – no, he was honour-bound to marry her. Even the fact that he was a duke was not enough to over-ride that.

Sophie realised that she felt very miserable indeed. This was not how it should be, this was not how it happened in the daydreams she had let herself indulge in these last few days. She was sitting in front of a rapidly cooling trout, in damp and uncomfortable clothes, with a blister on each heel and probably pond weed in her hair. And she was being told by the man she loved that she had to marry him because of his honour.

‘Nonsense,’ she said robustly. ‘I do not believe a word of it. All we have to do when we get to York is for me to speak to your sister-in-law. She can provide perfectly acceptable chaperonage. When I return to London it might be thought strange that I had left so abruptly, but no one will think twice about me visiting such a respectable family. After all, Hal, I cannot be twice ruined, can I?’

Hal sank his head in his hands. ‘I thought I had just explained that you can,’ he said wearily. ‘Never mind, we'll discuss this when we arrive in York. Eat your trout, it’s getting cold.’

Darkness seemed to come suddenly in the little valley and Sophie realised how tired she was, how exhausting the day had been. Hal observed her yawns and shook out the heavy cloak from behind her saddle. He laid his own a respectable distance away and they settled down to sleep.

 

Sophie awoke to the dawn light chilled, stiff and with a strange sensation of a breeze on her nape. Then she realised that the heavy weight on her waist was Hal’s arm thrown across her protectively and it was his warm breath on her neck that she could feel. She lay there for a few precious moments, enjoying the feel of his long body curved against hers, then she slid carefully from his embrace and tiptoed round the bend in the river to wash, her heart an ache in her chest.

 

When the two tired horses finally clattered across the cobbles under Bootham Bar, Sophie thought she had never been so glad to see anything in her life as the great mass of the Minster rising majestically before them.

The grey mare’s head was down and she was beginning to peck again as her bruised hoof met the hard surface of the Minster Yard. Sophie thought she must have gone beyond being tired, hungry and thirsty about ten miles back when Hal had reined in the horses and decided they must walk them the rest of the way.

He was riding ahead of her as they circled the Minster and she saw how dusty his coat was and how stiffly he stretched in the saddle to ease his shoulders. The neat houses of the clerics of the cathedral clustered closer, each with its carefully tended front garden facing onto the scythed grass of the lawns. There was little sign of activity, but as they passed the great doors Sophie could hear the swelling notes of the organ and voices raised in a hymn.

Hal twisted in the saddle. ‘Evensong. I had not realised it was so late.’

Sophie smiled back wryly. ‘I had no idea it was that early.’

‘I know how tired you must be, but we are nearly at my brother’s house now. See, the one with the black front door.’

Hal swung down from the saddle and came to help her dismount, which was fortunate because once out of the saddle her legs gave way and she had to clutch at his arms. ‘Poor Sophie,’ he said gently. ‘Can you walk, or shall I carry you?’

For one long moment the thought of being held close in Hal’s arms was irresistible, then common sense reasserted itself. ‘And what would your sister-in-law say if you appeared on her doorstep carrying a stable lad?’

His eyes twinkled, but he let go of her, steadying her against the horse until he was sure her legs would carry her. ‘The opportunity to scandalise Emma is tempting, but poor John would be mortified. Come along.’

He raised the brass door knocker in the shape of a dolphin and let it fall against the striker plate and after a moment the door swung open to reveal a bland-faced upper servant who broke into a smile as soon as he saw who was on the threshold. ‘Your Grace! This is a pleasure we had not looked for.’ He glanced past Hal’s shoulder and saw the horses standing at the gate. ‘No carriage, Your Grace? Jones is in the mews, so if your lad takes the horses round now...’

‘No, Grayling, the lad stays with me. Send one of the footmen round to fetch Jones, please. And tell him to check the mare’s feet, she’s got a bruised frog which will need a fomentation.’

There was the merest pause as the butler eyed Sophie from head to foot, from battered hat to dust-caked boots, then his eyebrows rose fractionally before he added, ‘Of course, Your Grace. The Reverend Lord John and Lady John are at evensong, but we expect their return immediately afterwards. If you and the young... person would care to step into the drawing room, I will have refreshments sent in at once.’

Sophie said, ‘He knows. He knows I’m not a boy,’ as soon as the door closed behind the butler, leaving them standing in a small, but elegantly appointed room,

‘I cannot imagine how, under all that dirt,’ Hal teased. He ran his finger down her cheekbone and held it up for her to see. ‘All this dust, you look like a road sweeper.’

Sophie swallowed. It was ridiculous how affected she was by his touch. It was only because she was so tired and hungry that she felt so dizzy, she told herself firmly. But in her heart she knew it was nothing to do with that at all. I really must pull myself together before Hal’s brother comes home, she thought desperately.

A footman arrived carrying a tray of tea things which he placed on a table at Sophie’s elbow. ‘The decanters are on the sideboard. May I pour for you, Your Grace?’

‘A large brandy,’ Hal replied with feeling, thrusting booted legs out and settling himself more comfortably in the wing chair.

Wordlessly, the footman handed him the glass and poured tea for Sophie. She could sense the effort it was costing him avoiding looking at her and wondered what on earth he made of the sight of a travel-stained youth sitting on his mistress’s best upholstery.

The tea was hot and sweet and the best thing she had ever tasted as it slid down her dry throat. Sophie was pouring her third cup and feeling revived enough to eye the plate of little macaroons when there were voices in the hall and she realised that their hosts had returned.

Hal shot her a reassuring glance as he got to his feet, then a man in his mid-twenties, so like Hal that there could be no doubt he was his brother, strode into the room and clasped his hand.

‘Hal, my dear fellow. We had not looked to see you. Did you write? Nothing has reached us. Grayling says you came on horseback, and I can tell that by the look of you! How is Elizabeth?’ There was a slight cough from the doorway and he stood aside. ‘Emma, my dear, forgive me. I am talking so much you cannot greet Hal yourself.’ He stood aside as a tall, high-bosomed, handsome young woman swept into the room.

‘Hal,’ Lady John said in cool, but not unfriendly tones, offering her cheek to be kissed. ‘This is a pleasure. I collect that dear Elizabeth is not with you? I do trust she is well.’

Hal did not reply directly, merely saluting the proffered cheek and saying, ‘No, she is not with me. I must apologise for this unannounced visit.’

‘Not at all. You know our house is yours whenever you wish to visit us.’ She turned as she spoke and caught sight of Sophie for the first time. And her mouth opened.