Authors: Brenda Joyce
“Aren’t you going to invite me to join you in your bed?” Edward asked in a low voice, undulating his pelvis suggestively against her.
Tears filled Sofie’s eyes. “No,” she said in a choked whisper. “No.” If only the desire would go away, but he was stoking it—purposefully, expertly. Her body was quivering against his. It was hard to breathe.
“Whyever not, dear Sofie?” Edward asked, suddenly gripping both of her arms again. His thigh slid between
both of hers. Hard, hot. Male. “Surely you are not faithful to dear Georges?”
Sofie stared into his handsome face, eyes wide, determined to ignore the position of their bodies. She stared into his cold blue eyes, as beautiful as ever despite the frost there, and at his firm, mobile, expressive mouth. “How dare you cast stones at me!”
He laughed. “I dare. I dare
everything.
”
His innuendo was sexual and she knew it. “You are despicable. You have changed. You are every bit as ugly as your reputation claims!” She tried to push away from him.
His laughter died, but he would not release her.
She ceased wriggling and struggling, for her every movement only made her more aware of him. “Let me go. This moment, before I scream for help.”
Edward’s grip only tightened. “Damn you! Are you in love with him, Sofie? Are you?”
“You do not understand!” Sofie cried.
“Oh, I understand, darling. I understand perfectly.” His smile flashed. His thigh pushed harder and higher so that she was forced to ride him. “Come, sweet, we need not play games, we know each other too well for games—unless they are games of pleasure.”
Sofie gasped. With real indignation, she tried to jerk free, to dismount him. He laughed, low and rough, and bent over her, unsmiling. Sofie comprehended that he was going to kiss her—and she froze completely.
“Better,” he murmured, “much, much better. Let’s see how much you’ve learned during your stay in gay Paris,” he murmured in a bedroom tone. He pressed her closer, so that the size of his erection could not be in any doubt.
Immediately Sofie’s hands came up to press him away. She did not want this, she did not. At least, not with her mind. But her body was so hungry, starved, and Sofie had actually forgotten how urgent desire could be. How mind-shattering, how consuming. Images tormented her now, not images of the past—but images of the future. Of her and Edward, naked and entwined and flushed with passion. Straining at each other, clinging, gasping. Edward driving deep and hard and smoothly, so smoothly, inside of her. The
ecstasy she had once known. “No, Edward. Not like this.”
“Why?” he whispered, his mouth close to hers, his breath feathering her lips. “We’re friends. Old friends. Don’t you have any fondness for me at all?”
“Old friends?” she gasped, but the rest of her reply was cut off. His mouth touched hers. A moment later she was the subject of a massive invasion, open to him as he thrust his tongue deep inside her, repeatedly. It was not a mating. It was a rape.
Sofie cried out, not because he was hurting her, but because she was becoming afraid. Of him—of herself. She tried to push him away even as her lips yielded and became pliant. He tore his mouth from hers, panting. “God, Sofie! It’s so damn good!”
She was panting, too. “You think that because we were … we were lovers … that gives you a right to treat me like … like …”
“Like what, Sofie?” he gasped, dangerously. “Like a hussy? Like a harlot? Like a whore?”
She whimpered, turning white.
“Forget your new lover.” His eyes blazed. “I’m better than he is. I’ll prove it. We’ll be better. Come. Come willingly, Sofie … This time it won’t be rough. I promise.”
Sofie stared at him, his seductive tone enveloping her like a warm cocoon.
He stared back. “Sofie. We both know you want me. And I want you. It was good. It can be good again. Better now, in fact, because you have experience. It can be
the best,
Sofie.”
“Get away from me,” she whispered.
“Why? Do you love him?” he snarled.
“You are mad,” she gasped. “I like Georges—I do not love him!”
“Good. I wasn’t too fond of the idea of taking a woman to my bed who was in love with another man.” His smile flashed eerily. “But if that’s the way it was—” he shrugged “—I would.”
She stared, for he had become a monster. Someone she did not know—had never known. “You do not understand.”
His vivid blue eyes were as hard as sapphires. “I understand. I understand how bohemian you are. I understand you
Sofie, and your needs. I was your first, remember? I awoke you to desire. I guess that makes me a lucky man.”
“Get away from me,” Sofie said, low, desperate. “Please.”
“You prefer him to me?” His smile flashed, cruel and cold. “You won’t—not after today.”
Panting, Sofie lost all control and struggled against his hold. Wild and crazed. Edward released her immediately. Sofie backed away and stumbled, then hit the redbrick wall. She hugged herself, panting, close to tears. “How dare you!”
“No,” Edward shouted abruptly, pointing his finger at her. “How dare you! How dare you deny me my daughter, damn you, Sofie O’Neil!”
Sofie met his blindingly furious gaze. “I am not denying you Edana.”
“No?” He paced towards her, then halted, raised a hand, fist clenched. It was shaking. “I want to know why you didn’t tell me sooner.”
Sofie hesitated. She decided he deserved the truth. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid! Afraid of what?”
Tears filled her eyes. She hugged herself harder. “I don’t know. Of this.”
He stared, his mouth twisted and down-turned. She saw he was trying to understand but did not. Sofie was not going to enlighten him. Because it was as she had feared. He had come because he cared too much. About their daughter. Not about her.
They walked in silence back to her flat, careful not to touch one another. Sofie was also careful not to look at Edward. Her spine stiffened when they entered her apartment building, for she expected him to hold her elbow to aid her up the narrow, steep stairs. He did not. For the first time in a long time, Sofie became aware of how awkwardly she still moved as she climbed the stairs ahead of Edward. She was quite certain he saw everything.
Sofie heard Rachelle singing when they reached the top of the landing. “They are home.” She inserted her key into
the lock and pushed open the door. “Edana.
chérie.
Mama is home!” Sofie cried, rushing to her daughter.
Rachelle and Edana were on the floor on a big blanket. Rachelle was sitting cross-legged, in a black skirt and a stark white shirt and her heavy black boots. She wore a bright blue shawl. Edana was not sitting up yet. She lay on her back, waving her hands in the air, cooing. But at the sound of Sofie’s voice, the sweet baby sounds stopped and she smiled instead.
Rachelle’s gaze was wide as she got to her feet. Sofie had already scooped up Edana and was hugging her, hard. The baby laughed. Sofie half turned, just enough to glimpse Edward remarking Rachelle, just for an instant. Then his gaze was on the baby—and only on the baby.
“Oh, God,” he said harshly.
Tears came to Sofie’s eyes. There was no mistaking the fact that Edward loved his child already, utterly and irrevocably. His eyes were shining and suspiciously bright. The tip of his nose had turned red. Sofie held Edana out to her father.
His gaze shot up, startled. “I don’t know.”
Sofie’s heart pumped in painful spurts. Still she offered her daughter to Edward, agonizingly aware of how special the moment was—and that it should have taken place long ago in the hospital, and that it should have been shared by man and wife. “It’s all right. Edana is friendly”
“I’m afraid,” Edward confessed, staring at the baby girt. “She’s so small—so beautiful.”
“You won’t hurt her,” Sofie said, perilously close to shattering.
Edward took Edana and cradled her carefully in his arms. He sat down on the worn sofa, never removing his rapt, besotted gaze from the child. “God, she’s blond like you—but blue-eyed like me.”
Sofie wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve. But the tears wouldn’t stop. Fortunately, Edward only had eyes for his daughter and was unaware of her upheaval. “M-Most children are blond and blue-eyed. She m-might have black hair as an adult, or brown eyes.”
Edward made a sound, half a laugh. Edana was smiling up at him, waving her hands, as if trying to touch his face. “She likes me,” Edward said thickly. “Hi. Hi, sweetheart. I’m your daddy.”
Sofie could not stand it. Bursting into tears, she hurried from the room before Edward might see. But he was still bent over Edana.
Edana began to cry.
Sofie came to the doorway and saw Edward walking the baby, rocking her in his arms, trying to hush her. He sensed Sofie’s presence and turned, alarmed. “What’s wrong? Did I upset her? She was fine a minute ago!”
“She’s only hungry, Edward,” Sofie said softly. “It’s time for her to eat.”
Edward paused and stared at her, his gaze moving to her breasts.
Sofie had been nursing her child ever since she was bom, but she began to blush. Briskly she strode into the room and took Edana from Edward. “Perhaps this is a good time for you to leave.” She would not meet his gaze. Edana had begun to wail. “You can visit her again tomorrow.”
“No. I’ll wait.”
Sofie’s gaze flew up at his flat, emphatic tone. Edward’s jaw was firm, his eyes dark, determined. She could not bicker now. Edana was becoming red-faced. Sofie turned her back on Edward and rushed her child into the bedroom. Quickly she unbuttoned her blouse as she sat down in a rocking chair Rachelle had bought for her. Within moments Edana was suckling vigorously. Sofie began to relax.
But then she sensed his presence. Her gaze shot up. In her haste, she had not shut the door fully. Edward stood there on the threshold, watching her nurse their child.
Sofie’s pulse skyrocketed. Not expecting an audience, she had exposed herself completely. Her breasts were full, pale, and blue-veined. And Edward was staring, but not at his daughter.
It was thoroughly inappropriate, but Sofie was stabbed with lust. She did not need to be a mind reader to know
what Edward was thinking, either. Abruptly he turned away, closing the door behind him.
Sofie began to shake, in relief. She moved Edana to her left breast, pulling her chemise up on the other side. She was perspiring. Edana was content and did not notice.
Oh, God, Sofie thought. She had never dreamed it would be like this if he returned. Insanely, she had thought that she could keep her distance, both physically and emotionally, and remain blandly unaffected by him. What a fool she had been.
Sofie dared not think about what would transpire next. She only knew one thing. Once before he had so casually happened into her life. But then, he had almost destroyed it. Every instinct Sofie had told her that this time he would be successful—if she let him.
Sofie closed the bedroom door carefully, leaving it just slightly ajar. Edward’s brow lifted. “She is asleep,” Sofie said.
He stared at her, far too intensely for Sofie to be comfortable. She recalled how he had looked at her breasts. She recalled how he had felt against her when he had been kissing her with punishing strength. His kiss had been hurtful. But mere had been nothing hurtful about the feel of the rest of his hard, aroused body.
“When do you want to get married, Sofie?”
“What?”
His jaw flexed. “You heard me. When do you want to get married? Now? Tonight? Tomorrow? There’s no point in waiting, the sooner Edana has my name, the better.”
Sofie could not breathe. It was exactly as she had feared. He cared too much—about Edana. She fought for calm. It was impossible. “You are very arrogant, Edward, to assume I would marry you because of Edana.”
His eyes widened. “Goddammit! You have to marry me, and we both know it! Isn’t that why you sent that letter?”
“No! That is exactly why I did not write to you until the very last possible minute!” Sofie shouted, forgetting all about the sleeping baby.
Edward gripped her arms. “I don’t understand.”
“And I don’t care! I am not marrying you, Edward. Not because of Edana.”
He was shocked. He had turned a ghostly shade of white. He released her, too dumbfounded to speak. “Jesus,” he finally said. “I don’t believe you!”
Sofie backed away from him, intent on staying out of his reach.
“You’d rather live like this?”
She knew better than to answer.
But now he was furious. “It’s him, is that it?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”
“It’s him!” he shouted. Edana began to cry. “Jesus, if that’s the way it is … I never meant it would be a real marriage, Sofie. Christ! You want your lover, that’s fine! Hell, take ten lovers, I don’t give a damn! But Edana will have my name. I won’t have my daughter a bastard, dammit!”
“You’ve woken the baby,” Sofie cried, shaking with her own anger, her own grief. “It’s time for you to leave, Edward. Now!”
He hesitated. Edana wailed. “All right. We’ll finish this tomorrow. But we will finish it, Sofie.”
Sofie did not answer. She rushed into her bedroom, as much to run from him as to soothe her child. Quickly she picked up Edana, forcing a smile through her tears. “It’s all right, darling, it’s all right. Hush, now. Mama’s not angry. Mama’s not upset. Mama loves you. And your daddy loves you, too.” She cradled Edana to her chest, crying harder than before.
Eventually the baby stopped crying. Sofie put her down, covering her with a light blanket, crocheted by her neighbor. She wiped her eyes. She hesitated, then saw that Rachelle stood in the salon, unmoving and somber. She took one look at her face and knew that Rachelle realized what was going on. Sofie left the bedroom.
“What are you going to do?” Rachelle asked, putting her arm around Sofie.
Sofie trembled. “You heard?”
“I heard.”
“I’m not marrying him. I can’t. Not like this.” A horrible scenario flashed through Sofie’s mind. Herself in a luxurious, canopied bed, nursing Edana in the middle of the black night, alone and knowing Edward was out with someone else and would not return anytime soon, and even then, would not return to her. Never to her.