Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) (7 page)

Desperate, he tried to keep from sounding pleading.

“Are you sure I don’t want to be married? I can help you with your vengeance, you know.”

She gave him a brilliant and knowing smile.

“Of course I know that. You’re my wonderful champion. I know you’ll help me as my lover and because you’re such a compassionate man. I can’t tell you how much I adore your magnificent body. All those muscles and your sinewy strength. You give me pleasure I never even dreamed of. You’re so beautiful, Lars.”

She leaned back to examine his cock, stroking her agile fingers over its veined sides. Then she shifted back and leaned over to suck at its head as he jerked in her hands. She watched with a gleeful expression as he immediately swelled and drops of cum wet her seeking fingers.

“Lars, I hope you don’t mind,” she gasped. “I want you inside me again.”

He lifted her, carried her to the bed and pushed her back against her pillow, then slipped two fingers into her hot cunt as she sighed and clutched at his shoulders.

“Lars, no more talk.”

With a triumphant smile she wiggled against this first penetration, gasping as he inserted another finger and pressed down against her the walls of her vagina. She was already dripping wet, and the sheet beneath them soon was soaked. Glorying in her passion, he withdrew his fingers and entered her with no further foreplay. Lars exerted control he wasn’t sure he had as he pounded into her. As a gentleman, even a randy one, he’d have to let her rest a little tonight. He wanted this night of fucking to go on forever, but didn’t want to hurt her with his insatiable desire. Although he grinned at the way she’d led him on.

Powerless with his passion, he felt himself getting close to climaxing. Kissing her breasts and then her lips, he fingered her cunt even as he pounded into her, carrying them both to an ecstatic culmination. When she started to scream out her pleasure he buried her face against his chest and tried to stifle his own groans in her hair.

* * * * *

The next few days drifted by as the lovers savored each other every night. And many times a night. Sophie proved to be an eager lover, participating with every part of her body with an innocent abandon that devastated Lars. Whenever they both needed to catch their breath Lars brought out the accordion he kept on board ship. Music was one of his chief pleasures, and the accordion at least meant he had no strings to deal with in the salty air. He grinned as he saw Sophie’s delight in his playing. Music was an integral part of his life, and any appreciation from Sophie was wonderfully satisfying.

Lars refused to allow her to go on deck without him, but he spent every spare minute with her. He was still haunted by the image of the black-bearded man pinning her so ruthlessly against the wall. He’d soon find out more about that, but in the meantime he was taking no more chances with his love. While the captain gave all the sailing orders, Lars kept checking the tides and the winds, quietly informing Captain Stevens of his results. A great deal of mutual respect existed between them, as with all the crew as well.

Everyone on deck loved to hear him play. Some nights he took his accordion and joined them in the mess, serenading them while they ate. Sophie went with him, always wrapped in her blanket, but still drawing appreciative looks.

The lovers spent as much time as Lars could manage with each other, both longing to get to Dover even though Lars sometimes wished they could stay in the seclusion of the boat forever. He talked frequently to the men manning the engines. Everyone seemed to understand he was not the usual passive owner of a magnificent yacht, but a man to be respected. They all were quite comfortable with his pointed ears as Sophie. They accepted him as he was.

It delighted Lars that Sophie liked to finger his hair and stroke his ears.

Besides, she often told him those ears were unbearably sexy. She loved to kiss the lobes, smiling as she soon had him grabbing her in amorous play.

He’d provided Sophie with pads of paper and plenty of pencils. She’d thrown her arms around him and kissed him with such passionate thanks he had to force himself to remember it wasn’t a sexual encounter she wanted at this point. Holding himself rigid, he watched as she quickly went to the desk and pulled the paper toward her.

“Lars, you angel. I’ve had a new theorem running around my head I was afraid I’d forget. Now I can put it all down and then decide if it’s worth pursuing. I think it is, actually, but I’ll have to check and re-check.”

Lars stood silent as the love of his life smiled at him, and then forgot he was there. Sophie bent her shining head over the desk and began to write. Lars could see in his mind what she was writing. He didn’t have to move and look over her shoulder. Her rapid pen strokes were moving with precision, setting down an algebraic formula evidently blossoming in her head.

He was not powerless. He could easily call upon his elfin power to help him decipher her swift scribbling. But that was not the point. The crux of the matter burst into his mind like an elf’s arrow. He’d fallen in love with a woman whose mental life might be more important to her than her physical one.

He respected her brains and her dedication. But could she ever give him her whole self, with no reservations? She was brilliant, even if she’d masked the truth from the world. He meant to see she was acknowledged as the beautiful brainy woman she was. But would she ever cherish anything as much as she did her intellectual life?

Would he ever mean as much to her as the ideas whirling around in her lovely head?

* * * * *

They both stood on deck, watching the
Angelina
move slowly into shore at Dover. The famous white cliffs shone in the brilliant sunlight, and the huge harbor, filled with ships from around the world, curved in a large arc. It was an impressive sight. Lars grinned, knowing they were home safely, and Sophie stood silent and in awe.

As soon as the
Angelina
docked, Lars ordered the captive’s release. He watched with satisfaction as the brute hurried away. Lars didn’t regret Smythe was limping. He was damn lucky Lars or the crew hadn’t killed him. He ordered Smythe followed and then turned to the problem of how to get Sophie to his cottage without ruining her reputation. He could hardly take her wearing a blanket. Finally he told her to stay on board while he went shopping. He wanted this task for himself, although he asked the captain to be extra careful of her until he returned. If anyone picked out clothes for her he intended to be the one.

Luckily his mental measurements made it easier than he’d thought to pick up a traveling dress. He used his formidable mind to remember the names of two dress-makers his mother used, summoned the addresses with elfin power, and went to the nearest one. He wore a hat that kept his hair in place so it partially covered his ears. Calling on his elfish powers always unveiled his ears, but he wanted no inquiring stares. He intended to remain wary while he was gone. Not that he minded curiosity, but he wanted his errand to be as little noticed as possible.

He’d picked the most French of the shops, and found his description of Sophie’s figure to elicit only small, knowing smiles. Luckily a customer had ordered a driving outfit of deep blue, which Lars coveted at once. A shocking amount of money later, the head of the establishment was persuaded to make another for the customer who was coming to collect her purchase soon, and Lars walked out with exactly what he wanted. He’d even persuaded the madame to make up the client’s outfit in a deeper shade of blue, and to tell her client there had not been a sufficient amount of the material she’d chosen. He didn’t want anything his Sophie wore to be identical to another’s.

Bringing the dress back to the boat and presenting it to Sophie made the extravagance well worth it. Sophie gazed at the beautiful cloth with awe when he presented it to her. She stretched out one hand to touch it, and then pulled back.

“Lars, it’s gorgeous. I’ve never had anything half so fine. What you must have spent! And the underthings are as fine as gossamer.”

She finally fingered everything delicately, then rushed to him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Delighted with her reaction, Lars swooped her up and held her body against his, returning her kiss as he pressed her hips against him. His instant erection widened her eyes, but she didn’t back away. Instead, he did.

“I want to get you off this boat and take you to my home. Can you dress and call me when you’re ready? I wasn’t sure of your boot size, so I hope they fit.”

He’d noticed before how small her delicate feet were, but looking at them now he thought maybe the boots would still be too big. Still, they were rather dressy boots and would hold stuffing better than delicate shoes.

“Don’t worry so, Lars. I can ram paper in them if I must. Now go away, I’m dying to dress like a lady again. Although I’ve never had anything nearly so gorgeous.”

“Sure I shouldn’t stay and help? I’m a dab hand with buttons.”

He grinned and she batted one hand at him. “These buttons look easy to manage. Now go away.”

She fingered the material of the dress and camisole, her expression dreamy. When he didn’t move she shoved him toward the door and Lars grinned, went to the hall, folded his arms and waited.

Sophie didn’t take as long as he’d expected. But then when did she ever do what he expected?

She opened the door and he straightened to full attention. So damned beautiful she literally stole his breath, she motioned him back into the cabin and looked at him anxiously. She’d braided her hair and now wore it in a large coiled bun at the back of her neck.

“This dress is so gorgeous.” Her breathy sigh of appreciation brought his cock to full attention. “But I can’t finish fastening the back buttons after all. Will you do them for me?”

He’d instantly gone hard as a stone. Touching her without ravishing her was going to be damned difficult. She looked so happy, glowing with the feminine delight of beautiful new clothes. She might very well respond if he pushed her back in the cabin and made love to her. He had no doubt she’d always found satisfaction with him and that he could pleasure her again. Then he shook his head at his foolishness. He was an idiot. The last thing she wanted right now was to take off her lovely new clothes.

He silently went to work fastening the buttons.

She looked quite regal with her coiled hair, but he could hardly wait to loosen it and watch it flow in sinuous waves around her nude body.

Angels in heaven, he’d never dreamed he’d fall in love this deeply. He’d never even thought it possible.

Chapter Four

Lars directed his captain to take the yacht a little farther east to his private dock. He had wired ahead to make sure his carriage and driver were waiting for them. He’d given instructions to the captain to keep a watch for an attempt of revenge by Smythe, and to post extra guards around the
Angelina
when they were in dock.

Hand in hand they stood on deck, watching the sights of Dover grow smaller. They docked at his private harbor as deckhands with smiles rushed out to help pull the small ship in and anchor her.

Lars ushered his lady to his carriage, noticing her start of surprise when she saw the luxurious coach and the liveried driver and footman.

“I have a Swedish title that I use when I’m in England.” He spoke in the most casual of tones. “It means little to me, but now and then I find it useful to display some of the accoutrements. Please, do not let it disturb you.”

Sophie stared at him and folded her arms in a classic stance of belligerence.

“Don’t you think it’s time to tell me more about yourself? What kind of title do you have? I’ll not take another step unless you promise to answer some questions. Do you realize I know nothing about your background and you know everything about me?”

She looked so adorable in her new outfit and her defiance Lars grinned. Which didn’t go over well with Sophie. Lars refrained from telling her he’d already planned to explain everything to her on the ride. Let her think she’d won a significant victory.

“If you insist.” His tone was so neutral she looked at him with suspicion. Still she let him hand her into the carriage, searching his eyes as she entered.

They’d not traveled far before she turned to him, curiosity and indignation fighting for supremacy.

“Lars, I owe you my very life. But if you don’t tell me more about yourself I’m going to be seriously disturbed with you. Seriously, seriously disturbed.”

He grinned again.

“But you know the main fact, Sophie. I’m an elf. I have some power as an elf, as you already know. I’m also a count. I’m a fearfully rich count. I hope that doesn’t upset you. I find my title and my wealth help my mission in life. I’m dedicated to rescuing those who need my special services. I hear a voice in my head when someone needs me, as I did when I went to Constantinople to find you. This is an ability given to most elves.”

Her head was down and he couldn’t be sure of her reaction. He cradled her face in his hands, forcing her to look directly at him.

“Now what are you thinking, my beautiful Sophie? You look so doubtful it worries me.”

“Do you bring all the other poor souls you rescue home with you?”

He stared at her and then laughed. “You’re the first one, my love. I maintain shelters the others go to, and have people there to help them readjust and find their homes. You’re the only one I’ve even considered bringing to my own home. But then I don’t plan to ever let you leave.”

Quite evidently satisfied, she flashed him a sweet smile and settled back against the carriage squabs. Lars said nothing although he raised her hand and kissed it. Leaning over, he whispered in her ear how much he’d rather be kissing her lips.

He cleared his throat as if to speak but said nothing and she looked at him in surprise. Lars was never nervous. But before he could say anything they’d passed beyond the city and come to the outskirts. Sophie leaned out the window of the carriage, obviously glad to be back in England. She was so entranced Lars grabbed her skirt for fear she’d topple out.

“Oh look, Lars. Isn’t the countryside beautiful? It’s been so long since I’ve seen this special green of England.”

They drove along, with Sophie keeping up ecstatic comments on the wonderful salty smell of the ocean, the blue, blue sky, and how happy she was to be back in England.

Once again Lars made as if to speak, but Sophie had spotted a large estate. “Look at that mansion, Lars. Did you ever see the like? Certainly the part of London I lived in was nothing like this. That’s a huge, huge home.”

Aghast, Lars found himself silenced. He didn’t care to tell her that Alfheimer, his principle residence, would easily surpass any of them in size and grandeur. Let alone his home in London.

Still, he’d better prepare her a little. If she’d allow him.

He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid you’ll find my home rather pretentious. My grandfather built it at a time when influence with the king was important. Since Grandfather needed to be able to move around the court, he often found himself entertaining the king. It’s a big, old place, but not without some charm. Aristocrats like to be invited here, so it’s not useless when I’m playing political games.”

Sophie stared at him. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re a member of the nobility. You’re filthy rich. You’re important enough to have an entrée to the highest circles. You’re involved in mysterious missions. And you’re trying to prepare me for magnificence. Are you afraid I won’t fit in to your exalted home and company?”

Lars rolled his eyes, speechless for a moment.

“Now whatever made you say a thing like that? I swear, Sophie, you’re harder to understand than the Koran. But then I’ve long studied that great and wise Muslim book. You defeat me.”

Sophie started to say something and he put his hand over her mouth.

“I’ve finally had enough of your refusal to trust me. I regard it as an honor to show you my home. I intend to introduce you as my fiancée, and see you are treated as such. I don’t think my staff is nearly as snobbish as you.”

* * * * *

Lars sat back and folded his arms over his chest, his expression haughty and his brown eyes flashing golden sparks of anger.

Fascinated, Sophie regarded him with startled eyes. She’d always thought him magnificently handsome. His corded arms and legs, his impressive body, revealed a strength that had drawn her to him from the first. Powerful shoulders, a flat stomach that somehow emphasized the long muscled legs. Every movement of his body was lithe and graceful. Although she liked his nude body the best, even though now he was immaculately clothed as a gentleman. His righteous anger lit a flame, warming her with a welcome glow.

She started to tell him so but only two words squeaked out.

“Your fiancée?”

His anger lightened only a little. “Of course. Did you really think I’d bed you so many times and with such enthusiasm without being serious about you? Be careful, Sophie, you might make me even angrier.”

“Oh Lars.” She sighed and then took a deep breath. “You’ve proposed but I’ve never accepted you. Don’t you know I might never be free to marry? I must avenge my father and finish his work. I would not involve you in something I know well I might not survive.”

He took her shoulders and shook her. “Now you’re making even less sense. You know perfectly well I won’t permit you to do anything dangerous without my assistance. But come, we’re getting nowhere with our arguing. Be still and compose yourself to meet my staff and my mother. I’ll be by your side making it easy for you as you well know. Just be your lovely self and I promise I won’t let anybody eat you.”

His slight smile didn’t quite cover his still-simmering anger. Realizing she’d get nowhere with more argument at this time, Sophie took his advice. Brushing off her skirts and straightening her new bonnet, she sat back. And then she leaned forward again. They passed through impressive iron gates set between what Sophie assumed were guard houses. Dear lord in heaven, either one looked the size of the cottage where she and her father had resided. What on earth was the main residence like?

And his mother? Certainly the woman would give one look at such an insignificant nobody and be disgusted.

* * * * *

Sophie steamed and worried the ten minutes it took to drive from the gatehouses to the main dwelling. She shrunk back in a corner, away from the window, barely seeing the rich expanse of lawn and the driveway planted with flowering shrubs. The long winding drive was rimmed with trees and flowers, but Sophie saw none of the beauty. Every foot they drove emphasized its luxury and frightened her more.

Their carriage drew up before a mansion larger than any Sophie had ever seen. Built of stone, its rich golden yellow glowed in the afternoon light. Three stories high, it was built more or less in the shape of an E, although one wing appeared to have been made larger than the other over the years. The house proclaimed a majestic and daunting presence. Square towers were at each corner, as well as one in the middle. The massive entry of two stories took most of this center space. If she’d realized his home’s magnificence, she never would have come. She’d have run the moment she’d set foot off his yacht.

Turning to Lars to scold him, she could tell by his slight smile he knew very well what she was thinking.

“Too late, my love,” he murmured. She glared and then settled back as well as her taut nerves would allow.

As soon as the carriage paused, two more footmen appeared, one pulling down the carriage steps and the other offering a hand to his master. Lars shook his head, nimbly descended by himself, then extended his own hand to Sophie.

She descended with such a straight back he grinned up at her. Keeping his hand in hers, he kissed the back with lingering lips, not caring who was watching. The servants stood with wooden faces, although she thought their eyes sparkled a little.

“Come, my dear. My mother is anxious to meet you.”

The dratted man had never mentioned his mother until ten minutes ago. Color rose in her cheeks once again, and her eyes flared with resentment. Looking at her, Lars smiled and leaned over to whisper to her.

“How negligent of me not to mention before today I had a mother. Can you ever forgive me?”

Torn between resentment and laughter at his foolishness, she put her hand on his arm and let him lead her through the massive doors. Her head high, her cheeks flushed, she knew even as she walked in the mansion she’d been manipulated by a master. Her lips twitched. She’d get even, blast if she wouldn’t. The wicked,
wicked
man.

Her first impression was of the height and breadth of the huge hall, the vaulted ceiling covered with dark wood, and the stone floor smoothly polished. A fireplace at the end of the hall looked wide enough to accommodate a small tree.

Her second impression was of a petite woman running toward them, her hands outstretched.

“My dear Miss Masters. I’m so very glad to meet you. I owe you my deepest thanks for bringing this son of mine with you. We see him so seldom, I’m certain you’re responsible for our treat.”

Sophie curtsied as deep as she could go. This was the woman she’d dreaded meeting? This little butterfly of a woman who couldn’t possibly have produced her magnificent Lars?

The lovely lady beamed. “Don’t be formal, my dear. My, but you’re enchanting. So beautiful. Every bit as lovely as Lars told me. May I call you Sophia? If not now, then soon.”

Sophie rose slowly as Lars took her hand to assist her.

“I told Sophie not to be nervous, but she would insist on it. Hello, Mother.” He gathered his mother in his arms and kissed her on both cheeks.

Sophie watched, impressed by the amount of love the two seemed to exchange so easily. When Lars’ mother looked at her and smiled, Sophie couldn’t help but feel more at ease.

“Please call me Sophie. But I don’t even know what to call you, madam. Lars just now told me he’s a count. I’d guess you’re a countess, at least.”

One more loving glance at Lars and his mother turned to Sophie. “I’m the Countess of Alfheim. Originally the word meant ‘elf’s home’. Alfheimer is the name of this manor house. But I’ll be dowager countess as soon as you and Lars marry. I’ll be so glad to relinquish the title to you. I quite look forward to your assuming my duties.”

Sophie tried to shutter her expression. Swamped with emotion, she felt disoriented. She scarcely knew what she was thinking. Astonishment that Lars’ silent communicative powers were so great with those he loved—he’d obviously had several recent conversations with his mother. Desire not to hurt this lovely, welcoming woman. Anger at Lars for not preparing her better than he had. And underlying all that, the dismaying knowledge she’d never fit in with all this opulence, no matter how she tried. Calling it a “manor house” was utterly ridiculous. It was a mansion, a palace, the residence of rich and wealthy aristocrats.

How could this gorgeous edifice ever be home to her? An almost penniless scientist with the burden of making her father’s murderer pay for his sins had no place in such magnificence.

Lars narrowed his gaze on her.

“Is Sophie’s room ready, Mother? The one I requested?”

“Of course, Lars. It’s probably scandalous to put her next to the master suite yet, but that’s where she’ll be. I’ll need a little time to move out of the reigning countess’ room in your suite, but I’ll certainly do so by the time you’re married.”

Again she beamed at Sophie, who felt all kinds of a fool. Next to the master suite? And expected to move into it soon? As in married to Lars?

“But, madam, we have no definite plans. Please stay in your rooms as long as you like.”

His mother wheeled on Lars. “Have you botched things up with this beautiful girl? Lars, how could you?”