Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) (12 page)

His face softened at her joking tone and she saw a fleeting longing in his beautiful eyes. Then he lowered his lids and when he lifted them his face was composed and cold.

She longed to go to him and have him take her in his arms once again. Glancing at his pants, she saw the familiar bulge between his legs. If she only felt free to do so she’ d rub her body against his and demonstrate how much she longed to join bodies with him again. A familiar emotion, but one he wouldn’t encourage right now.

He wheeled and turned away.

“Be ready at one o’clock. We’ll need a long afternoon.”

Beaming with delight, Sophie nodded. “You don’t know how I long to explore London.”

Let him sound cold if he wanted to. She was about to explore London

* * * * *

The days sped by in an ecstatic blur for Sophie. Lars reveled in her uninhibited enjoyment and in her interest in anything historical. Although he knew London thoroughly, he took to boning up on the next day’s site. Sophie’s intelligence demanded that he provide her with only the best information and in surprising detail.

One night when he was in the library reviewing the history of St. Paul’s church, he heard the door quietly open and looked up to see Sophie.

She was evidently ready for bed, as her glorious hair streamed over her shoulders, and she was clad only in her night clothes. His instant erection made him catch his breath. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Dear God, why did she have to tempt him like this?

She stopped short when she saw him.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m sorry, but I needed something to read.” She looked at him shyly from under lowered, long eyelashes. “But since I’m here, Lars, would you kiss me good night? It’s been so long since you kissed me. I quite long for a kiss.”

Surprised he could even speak, Lars said only one word as he turned to leave the room.

“No.”

At the hurt look on her face, he wheeled back.

“Sophie, you put me in hell when you offer something I cannot in all conscience accept. You know how much I’d like to caress you in every possible way. My head is filled with images of how to pleasure you with every part of my body. I assure you I can surpass your expectations. Are you ready to accept my marriage proposal?”

She looked so stricken he almost relented and consented to kiss her good night. Her little movement of taking a step closer nearly destroyed his resolve. Only the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to stop with one kiss kept him immobile as she shook her head.

True, her eyes were anguished. She looked at him with longing, her lips trembling like a child’s denied a longed-for treat. When one tear rolled down her cheek Lars strode from the room.

Damn her beauty and his inability to resist her.

He could not stay a moment longer without taking her in his arms. And to his bed. He wanted nothing more than to sheath his cock in her lovely body, time after time, until they were both at least partially satiated. His bed might be forever lonely unless he could rid her of her demons.

Perhaps it was time to let her confront Stephen Mallory.

He’d kept her from that with his excursions and excuses. Sightseeing with her had been a delight, her pertinent reactions sometimes amusing and always interesting. But he could not forever evade the problem of her enemy. Lars could find him and eliminate him, but then he’d never win all of her heart. She needed to know her own strength, face the bastard and let loose some of her rancor. She needed to feel confident of herself and worthy of marriage to him.

He sighed at the thought of his difficult love. She was going to confront Mallory sooner or later. He needed to make sure he’d be at her side when she did. She was a brilliant woman, but even her intelligent mind might not prove enough when faced with pure evil. She was too bent on revenge to allow her mind to direct her instead of her emotions. She’d be in great danger when she got her wish to confront Stephen Mallory. With her single-minded dedication to justice he had no doubt she’d manage the confrontation sooner or later.

He sighed again, even more deeply. The next meeting of the Mathematical Society was tomorrow. He was positive his love would manage to be there, and plunge herself into danger once again.

He resolved to go to the University College where the meetings were held. He wanted to investigate every inch of the building, particularly the room where meetings usually took place. He expected Mallory would have someone planted to help him refute whatever charge Sophie made. Lars wanted to reconnoiter any possibility of a trap.

He’d never been afraid for himself. But he definitely feared for Sophie. It was time to have a talk with Smythe. He’d held up his deportation for this exact purpose. He’d even had him released from jail temporarily, counting on him to lead him to Mallory as soon as possible. He’d ordered Smythe shadowed every minute, but so far there had been no meeting. That didn’t mean they hadn’t communicated at all, but the mathematician seemed to have disappeared. Lars knew that was only temporary. He wanted to kill Mallory before the mathematical meeting took place, if at all possible.

He didn’t want him close to Sophie ever again, and yet he might have to allow it to satisfy her pride.

How he wished his inner voice had not stopped talking to him. He’d seldom felt so confused, and he would welcome an advisory voice. But his voice had stopped communicating when they’d all come to London.

His every instinct warned him this might be ominous, but he’d just have to do his best.

* * * * *

Acquainting himself with University College proved easy. He roamed the premises and found several large rooms where the Mathematical Society meetings could take place. Calling on his elfin senses, his mind soon zeroed in on the room where the Society usually met. There were too many entrances to the room to suit him, but still he could handle this if he situated himself inside the hall before the lectures. Preferably toward the back so he could see everything that went on.

The first problem would be to get Smythe in hand so he could face them one at a time. This shouldn’t be hard. Usually the lout was lurking around close to Viking Hall trying to be inconspicuous, which was really amusing. In this part of town, one of the most luxurious in London, just the uncouth sight of him caused every doorman to go on the alert.

Mallory had doubtless ordered him to keep watch to see if there was any opportunity to breech the tight security of Viking Hall. And to grab Sophie if she ever went out unattended.

Lars planned to let Smythe capture the powerful Count of Alfheim. That should really stir up the pot. It would not be difficult, not at all, to insert himself into Smythe’s path and be captured. Lars had no doubt Smythe would be so excited at his feat he’d immediately report to his sponsor and be taken to him. And then he could face the despicable Stephen Mallory before the meeting of the Mathematical Society. Lars wanted Mallory eliminated from this dangerous game as soon as possible.

He must get to Mallory before Mallory got to Sophie.

* * * * *

Lars went out the front gate, unattended, and walked along the street with his head down, striving to appear preoccupied and not as wary as usual. He swung his cane with nonchalance, as if he was concentrating on some inner matter and not his safety. He’d seem a perfect set-up for ambush.

He covered more ground than he’d expected before he heard the footsteps trying to sneak up behind them. He kept on walking, ostensibly absorbed in his thoughts. Although his mind told him Smythe must be near, still the suddenness and ferocity of the blow on his head disabled him more than he’d expected. He fell unconscious to the pavement, his last thought one of wondering if he’d made a mistake. He’d expected to direct the scenario, not be forced into an unacceptable position. Why had his elfin senses not warned him he was dangerously close to this kind of danger?

When he regained consciousness, he was in more discomfort than he’d ever felt in his life. To his chagrinned amazement, he was bound with his spread legs to the rungs of a chair. His arms were painfully stretched behind his back and secured with a rope. Another thing he’d never planned. His mind tried to function through the dizziness sweeping through him and disorienting his every sense.

He’d never felt this kind of vulnerability. Almost as if his powers were no longer at his command. Had that ferocious blow somehow hit a spot that could lessen his abilities? He’d never realized this was possible. He only knew something was very, very wrong. Trying desperately to collect his thoughts, he kept his eyes closed. Keeping his breathing slow and even, he tested himself. Putting Smythe to sleep should be easy if he possessed a modicum of power. Almost automatically, he projected the spell that had always worked, saving him from danger when he’d needed to subdue an opponent. He felt no answering tingle, no little frisson telling him he’d taken over another’s mind. He’d always known the spell would only last an hour, but that hour was often vital. Fighting not to slump even more against the ropes, he concentrated on giving no sign he was at least alert and thinking again.

And he’d better think hard, fast and accurately. With whatever brains he had.

Sophie would be setting out for the Mathematical Society meeting soon. He almost smiled at the thought of how she’d be plotting to get there without tipping her hand, not knowing he’d intended to monitor her and follow as soon as she made a move. And now, now he’d better deal with Smythe any way he could. Without a doubt, even in his compromised state, he knew Sophie would need him, and soon.

The fear that he might not be able to get to her in his present condition almost made him twitch and betray himself. He needed his elfin abilities. He must keep Sophie from going to the meeting of the Society. She must not be allowed to attempt her revenge without him by her side.

He didn’t visibly move, but he flexed his muscles to get himself ready for the first opportunity. Smythe would be only too happy to torture him any way he could.

His movement had not been slight enough. Smythe must have been watching him breathe to have caught it. Lars was immediately hit by blows to his ribs, evidently with the same cosh that had downed him. Repeated blows, and Lars could not contain a groan as he felt the cracking of at least two of his ribs.

“Don’t play possum with me, you bastard. The only reason I haven’t roughed you up before is I want you to feel every blow. You’re going to get every bit of the punishment I got on your hellish ship. I’d kill you now if Mallory didn’t want you alive.”

He delivered two more blows, this time with his fists, and this time on Lars’ kidneys. He followed up with a vicious blow between his legs and one directly on his cock. The excruciating pain forced Lars to groan in spite of himself, as he again slipped into unconsciousness.

Even as his vision darkened he wondered again about his lack of power. What had happened to his elfin abilities? Where was the strength he’d always used to help others?

Were his abilities limited now when he needed them so badly? What in the name of all the gods had gone wrong?

He thought he heard a familiar soft murmuring in his mind, a voice he struggled to listen to. But the pain pulled him under and he knew nothing more.

Chapter Eight

Sophie couldn’t believe her luck when she went to the front door, preparing to sneak out if necessary—but found no one there stop her. A footman came running, his eyes frightened when he saw her alone in the hall complete with hat and gloves.

She gathered her wits and smiled brightly at him.

“I’m going to get a little exercise, Max. Lord Lars has agreed I need a daily walk.”

Thank heavens for her prodigious memory. She had yet to call a servant by the wrong name.

Max beamed at her, bowed, opened the door, and she strolled slowly away until the door shut behind her. Then she scurried, turning round the nearest corner. Drat, not a cab in sight. Well, she’d walk all the way to the Mathematical Society meeting if she must. She’d left enough time, though it would be close. She mustn’t miss the chance to ask for permission to present her new paper. She thought the premise original and a complicated formula her father would have loved. She’d enter it under her father’s name, and then claim it as hers after it was accepted. Hopefully just the presentation would gain Mallory’s attention and show him he had a formidable rival in her.

She’d dressed carefully, putting a lot of thought into what would be best to wear. None of them had ever seen her without her hair braided and stuffed into a dark snood. She wanted Mallory to recognize her at once, however. The memory of the slave-trainer running his filthy hands through her unbound hair still made her shiver. He’d obviously yearned to rape her, sometimes grinding his pelvis into her as he ran his hands over her naked body. He’d whispered with garlicky breath what horrible things he’d wanted to do to her. Then he’d pushed her from him and told how only his fear of Mallory kept him from plowing her cunt then and there. And he’d told her Mallory had much enjoyed viewing and fondling her when she was unconscious.

Both of them had seen her naked. She cut off her thoughts. She could not afford to let her emotions loose and blunt her thinking. In spite of her determination she shook with anger and then, fortunately, spotted a cab and hailed it. She was on her way. She’d soon see her nemesis face-to-face.

She’d dressed in one of her new walking outfits, since she deemed it decorous but still attractive. She’d tied her hair at the neck with a blue ribbon to match the velvet trim on her jacket. She had a blue velvet hat perched on her head, a small cap just large enough to observe convention. She knew the color would emphasize her pale hair. She’d brushed her hair until it shone, and let it flow down her back. This was the new Sophia she wanted everyone to acknowledge as her own person.

She carried her purse with a small but sharp knife hidden at the bottom, tucked away in a small tear she’d made in the lining. The papers of her new treatise were in a small writing case she also carried.

She sailed into the meeting room, head high, more beautifully dressed than anyone had seen her, her cheeks rose-tinted and her eyes defiant.

As eyes swiveled toward her, more than one gasp could be heard, one or two indignant that a strange woman was invading their meeting, others with a low hum of male appreciation.

As Sophie looked around for a seat, a tall, lanky redhead came rushing toward her.

“Sophia. Is it really you? You look so different and yet the same. Please tell me it’s you.”

His exuberance made him seem younger than Sophie knew he was. He was a respected mathematician, but a very shy one. She’d seen him eyeing her when she’d accompanied her father, and at the time had thought him rather sweet. He’d never had the nerve to talk to her about anything but mathematics. Now his delight seemed to have loosened his tongue.

“Yes, I’m really Sophia. How nice to see you again, Ben. I’ve been gone a long time, I know.”

She gave him her most dazzling smile, and the poor boy reddened to the tip of his nose. Spotting a nearby empty seat, she headed toward it.

“No, no, please come sit by me. You must have much to tell us all. Where have you been? You’ve been greatly missed. And your father, Sophia, I’m so sorry about him. The world has lost a brilliant mathematician.”

She followed him to the seats he’d indicated. Several members came up to her, expressing pleasure on seeing her and sorrow for her father. Sophie acknowledged them all, prettily but briefly, and then sat where the still-flushed Ben indicated. She was well aware every eye in the auditorium was on her. This was exactly what she wanted. She could feel Stephen Mallory somewhere near, although she couldn’t spot him. She’d expected him to be already there, pontificating to a court of young mathematicians, although her appearance might have shocked him into temporary silence. She had no doubt he was lurking nearby, making up his villainous mind what to do about her.

After the president called the meeting to order, Sophie stood and asked for permission to speak. An older gentleman with a white goatee, the president, had been an admirer of her father’s but had barely noticed her before. Now he smiled at her in welcome, his eyes roaming over her with patent appreciation.

“My dear Miss Masters. Of course you may speak. It’s a delight to have you with us again.”

He didn’t mention her father, but fastened his eyes on her bosom, which was heaving a little in apprehension. She’d been so afraid that without her father by her side she might be denied. Evidently not by this old goat.

She smiled her sweetest smile.

“Thank you, sir. You are indeed kind.”

He preened a little. “Of course, of course.”

“I would like to present a paper that is not on the agenda. It’s a theory my father and I worked on together before his tragic death.”

Although this wasn’t true, she knew she’d never be allowed to present a paper on her own. The idea and the new formula were all hers, but she was realistic. Wasn’t she? Even though every fiber of her body demanded she shout this was her own, still she knew it was better to get this paper out to the world. And gradually, perhaps by answering the questions that were sure to arise, she could establish her own reputation as a mathematician of note.

She was not surprised to see Stephen Mallory walk into the auditorium, his arrogant grin well in place. He cast her only one fleeting glance, but Sophie felt as if that one malignant sneer embodied everything in the world she hated.

He addressed the president. “I do not think we are abiding by the society’s regulations here, sir. This woman is proposing to bypass all our rules of scrutinizing a paper before it is presented. Granted, we all admire her courage in trying to preserve her father’s reputation. But should we break all the rules for a female’s perhaps mistaken desire to garner credits for a deceased man?”

He sent a brief, malevolent glance at Sophie but immediately masked its glitter with a benign expression.

Sophie shut her eyes and clenched her fists; digging her nails into her palms so tightly helped clear her mind. She would never know if it was admiration for her courage, her altered appearance or simply the ingrained British sense of fair play that provoked several of the delegates to protest.

“Shame, Mallory. Let the girl speak.”

“I admire her desire to perpetuate her father’s memory.”

“Her father was well respected. We should also respect his daughter.”

Seeing the audience was turning against him, Mallory faced Sophie with a smile. The smile of a devil from hell waiting to attack again.

“Proceed then, my dear girl. Although I do wonder where you’ve been for so long. None of us have seen you for some time. Have you been ill?”

Sophie would have liked to smash her fist in his face, but she managed to lower her eyes. “My father’s death devastated me, sir. I still wonder about the dastard who killed him.”

There, more than one gasp at her statement. Evidently his peers had no idea her father had anything but a normal death. A heart attack, perhaps. Regrettable but understandable. The man worked too hard. She could almost hear the thoughts running around in their brains.

The president looked at her benignly, although his eyes raked her figure even as he smiled.

“I’ll put you last on the program, my dear. No, don’t thank me. I’m sure anticipation will keep everyone in their seats ’til the end of the meeting. Something much to be desired.”

He grinned as if he’d uttered the most profound witticism in the world.

She ground her teeth but managed to smile back. She didn’t relish sitting through a long program when she was already nervous about her presentation and worried to flinders about Mallory. Still, she had the chance she wanted. She sat down again and Ben patted her hand. As he leaned over to whisper to her she shushed him; his open face showed his disappointment. He was sweet and deserved better of her, but she needed to think.

This delay gave Lars plenty of time to come after her. She had not a doubt in the world he’d know her destination the minute he realized she was gone.

She concentrated on the papers being presented. This was exactly where she wanted to be. With like-minded and appreciative people and with Mallory discomposed and wondering what she’d do next. She sat back to enjoy herself, confident Mallory could do her no harm when she was surrounded by his colleagues. But as the speeches went on and on, Sophie began to worry.

Where was Lars? Why hadn’t he come after her to stand glowering at the edge of the hall? Didn’t he know she was gone? Did he no longer care? Had she been so deceitful she’d lost his regard? True, she’d meant to elude him, but she’d counted on him to find her by now.

With a sudden realization, she knew she was incapable of leaving him. Worthy of him or not, she could never be anywhere but with him. And now she’d put herself in a position where she might have to disappear. He might no longer want her. He was not a man to take deception lightly.

She knew Mallory would find a way to get her alone. Yet suddenly nothing seemed to matter as much as Lars.

Where was her love?

Ben tugged at her arm frantically, and Sophie realized it was time to present her paper. Subduing her anxious thoughts, she rose and walked toward the platform. Already a long program, she was surprised so many were still there to hear her.

She’d do her best for her father and herself.

The audience listened to her, murmuring a little as it became clear a new outlook on an old puzzle was being presented. There was a moment of silence, then a smattering of applause that gradually grew into an ovation. She nodded in thanks to them all, and the chairman beamed on her.

“Miss Masters, are you prepared to take questions on the paper? You’ve presented a novel and brilliant idea. Can you tell us how your father came up with it?”

Sophie swallowed her chagrin and smiled sweetly. “Yes sir, I’ll be happy to take questions. My father and I were of one mind on many matters.”

Damn the idiots. But she knew she’d not have been allowed to give the paper on her own. Then she saw Mallory standing at the back of the room. His sinister look convinced her he knew the truth. That was one reason he’d sold her into slavery. Her degradation was important to him, as well as the fact she’d witnessed her father’s murder. He’d wanted her well out of the way. And in a place where he’d never have to worry about her again. He could not afford to let her live, then and certainly not now.

He was waiting to capture her again. And without Lars, he might be able to do so. This time he’d make sure she was killed.

Well, she’d fight Mallory with every force she could command. Perhaps she should let Ben see her home? No, he was too sweet to be the help she needed, and she’d get him killed too. But she’d make her father proud before Mallory succeeded in subduing her. He was a devil, and one she’d have to face alone. It was too late to think of Lars. He’d offered to help but she’d used trickery and deceit to get away from him. How wrong she’d been not to at least try anything he wanted to ensure a future with him.

She sighed. It wouldn’t have worked even if she’d given in to his almost irresistible charm. He was too far above her in so many ways.

No, it was better for him not to come. She wasn’t worthy of him. She’d be gone from his life and he could easily forget her.

Fighting off her fears and regrets, she answered the first question in a strong voice. She took all the questions, revealing more than she knew of her certain knowledge about this paper. Some of the members of the Society were exchanging looks, although she always could see Mallory, waiting. He leaned with folded arms against a wall, malignancy in his posture and his glance. Waiting to capture her again.

Well, perhaps it was for the best. She did not deserve Lars or the aristocratic life he offered her. She was unworthy of him in so many ways. Not only her commoner’s birth, but her sordid past. One look at Mallory brought back every dark memory. What would his peers say if they discovered she’d been a slave at auction to the highest bidder? How could she ever forgive herself for a past that could ruin Lars if discovered?

But she’d find a way to kill herself before submitting to the degradation she knew Mallory had in mind. Although murder would put her behind a wall that would forever enclose her, even if she were not hung. Was the knife in her purse enough to kill herself with one thrust?

Mallory’s lustful eyes never left her. She could feel his hunger reaching out, wrapping his evil desires around her.