The Earl I Adore (20 page)

S
ophie's head swam with the intense rush of desire that washed through her at the feel of his mouth against hers. Her fingers found their way to his hard chest as he kissed her once, twice, three times, each kiss firm but chaste. After the third kiss he pulled back slightly, watching her with a sort of half-lidded look that made her fingers curl into the fabric of his lapels.

She gazed up at him, her lips parted as she struggled to draw a proper breath. In that moment, she held absolutely nothing back from him. She poured all of her heart into her eyes, all of the love and desire and longing that filled her every time she looked at him, or even thought about him.

With a sharp exhale, his mouth swooped down to claim hers once more, only this time he didn't pull away. This time he tugged her flush against him while his lips parted against hers. There was nothing chaste about this kiss, thank God. She didn't hesitate for even a moment, eagerly opening to him, anxious to touch, taste, experience him any way she could.

The kiss was everything she could have wanted, everything she could have possibly dreamed. The invisible
barrier that always seemed to stand between them evaporated beneath the heat of their passion, leaving him so very accessible to her.

Her fingers stole up to the back of his neck, pulling them even closer together. His chest was solid against her breasts, an unyielding wall that somehow felt exactly right. She relished the foil of his hardness against her softness, his strength against her weakness.

The kiss was so much more than the touch of lips and dancing of tongues. It was the moment she had dreamed of since she had laid eyes on him that very first time. He wasn't holding back as she feared he might; he was sharing himself with her in a way she could never forget. In that moment, she could believe that he loved her back. She could believe that he was every bit as affected by their kiss as she, that his body sang with desire as hers did, that his heart pounded every bit as hard.

His hands slid down over her back and settled at her waist, pulling her hips soundly against his, if only for a moment. Her blood raced with desire so acute, she moaned out loud. She knew with absolute certainty that she would never forget this moment, or the way she felt in his arms.

When he pulled away at last, it was with a lingering reluctance that brought their lips back together twice before he breathed deeply and leaned his forehead against hers. She stood there, panting, unable to believe what had just happened. He released her waist and she followed suit, dropping her hands limply from his neck. But instead of pulling away, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her in a sweet embrace for a few thundering heartbeats.

Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling as he took several deep breaths. “Will that sustain you, sweet Sophie Hood?”

Sustain her? She could live on that for the rest of her life. Swallowing, she nodded. “Yes. Quite. Very much so.” She pressed her lips together, trying to bring her soaring heart back into her chest where it belonged. “Thank you.”

There was no levity in his gaze, no teasing or dismissive rolls of his eyes. If she hadn't known better, she'd have guessed that he was just as affected by their kiss as she was. “You are welcome.” Drawing a deep breath, he stepped back and held out his hand. “I think perhaps we should head back. I wouldn't want to worry your mother.”

He helped her back into the carriage before climbing up behind her. Within minutes, they were back on the road, headed down the hill to Bath. She found it almost impossible to believe that he would soon deposit her at her house and ride away from her for good. How was it possible to share that much passion and simply walk away from a person? She thought of a thousand different things to say to him, a thousand different ways to beg him to stay with her, but no words passed her lips.

The truth was, there were only three that really mattered, and those were the three that cut through everything else.
I love you, I love you, I love you.

If only she could say them out loud.

*   *   *

After leaving Sophie's house, Evan made it as far as the next corner before pulling the horses to a stop and raking both hands through his hair. His heart was still thundering against his ribs, his breathing still erratic.

God's teeth, he deserved to be horse-whipped.

First of all, he should never have agreed to such an outlandish request. No matter how pleading her big brown eyes had been, no matter how oddly logical her argument, he should have bloody well told her no—just like any sane person would have.

But no, he'd let himself be swayed, convincing himself it was a kindness when in reality, he had
wanted
it. He had wanted to kiss her again, from the moment she had emerged from the front door with such an endearingly adorable look of shock on her face. That desire had only grown when she'd sat so close beside him, her sweet, lemony-rose scent teasing him anytime they slowed.

Cramming his hat back on his head, he snapped the reins and set the horses on a very roundabout way home. He needed time to gather himself. Time to shake the odd feeling that had settled deep in his stomach. No kiss had ever been so intense for him. No woman had ever addled his brain so thoroughly. For him, there was no such thing as matters of the heart, only matters of the body. Impersonal, pleasant, forgettable. He'd never allowed himself to care so much for a woman before. Damn it all to hell, he hadn't
wanted
to drop her off at home. He hadn't wanted to bow to her, to nod politely to her mother, and to go on his merry way.

Yet it didn't matter what he wanted, damn it. He had no choice but to leave her behind. In fact, the whole incident had only driven home the fact that it was time to leave. He needed to go back to Ledbury, where he could purge himself of all these unwanted emotions. As the horses' hooves pounded the cobblestones, Evan gave up on trying to clear his cluttered mind and decided to attempt to sort it, instead.

When it came down to it, there was really no reason that he and Julia should remain in Bath.

The festival no longer held his interest. Anywhere he went would simply remind him of the events he had attended with Sophie, and how far he'd inadvertently—and then not so inadvertently—allowed things to go between them. The joy of music wasn't even there for
him anymore, not with the awareness that she was having to leave it all behind as well.

The worst of it was, if he were free, he could so easily imagine himself pulling her into his arms and offering his hand in marriage. As his wife, she wouldn't have to relegate herself to the country, never to enjoy the delights of the Season or the entertainments of festivals like these again. She could buy any gown she wanted, throw as many balls as she pleased, and never again be looked down on by wretches like Miss Harmon.

For the first time ever, he could picture a woman by his side as his wife, her gay dimples brightening his day, and her lush body warming his nights. If Sophie were his, he could imagine singing to her by the lake at his estate, grinning at her over coddled eggs and buttered bread at the breakfast table, or offering her much-more-hands-on private lessons for archery.

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing away the image.

Damn it all, he
wasn't
free, and he couldn't pretend that he ever would be. Yes, returning to the estate was the only thing that made sense now. Julia wouldn't be happy, but that was too damn bad. He'd be sure to spend the rest of the summer with her and their mother, so she would have plenty of company. He'd even throw a bloody party, if that would make her feel better.

Having made up his mind, he changed directions and headed back to the house. By the time he strode through the door and handed over his hat and gloves to Higgins, Evan was feeling at least a little more settled. He had a plan, which meant he was in control. Mostly.

“Thank you, Higgins.”

The butler nodded. “Will that be all, my lord?”

“Please inform Lady Julia that I'd like to see her in
the drawing room at once. And see that we are not disturbed.”

When the butler dipped his head in the affirmative, Evan went straight to the drawing room, or more accurately, to the sideboard and its impressive selection of spirits. He chose his favorite brandy and filled a glass. After taking a long draw, he walked to the window overlooking the street and sighed. It was a fine city, regardless of the talk of its decline recently. The festival had breathed life into the place, and Evan had easily lost himself in the excitement of it all. If things had gone differently, he might have stayed for quite a bit longer.

He sipped his drink, idly watching the carriages rumble by. Tonight was the concert featuring works by Thomas Linley the younger at the Assembly Rooms. He was Evan's favorite composer, but with all he needed to do to prepare for the journey home, it wouldn't make sense to go to the concert even if his heart was still set on it.

By the time the scratch at the doorway made him turn away from the window, his drink was nearly gone and he was beginning to grow impatient. He glanced toward the corridor, fully expecting to see his sister, but came up short when he laid eyes on Higgins instead. The man's face was pale, his shoulders unusually taut.

Evan set down his glass and hurried forward. “What is it? You look as though you've seen a ghost.”

Uneasiness trickled down his spine as the butler wrung his hands. “I'm not sure how to say this, my lord, but it appears that Lady Julia has gone missing.”

“Missing?” Evan repeated, the word harsh on his tongue. This house was not a fifth of the size of their estate in Ledbury. How on earth could one go missing in it? “I don't understand. Have you checked the gardens? The library?”

Higgins nodded, his eyes sober with concern. “Yes, my lord, but I fear I may have misspoken. I'm not certain she is so much missing as she may have decided to . . . leave.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. In it was a sealed missive with Evan's name scrawled across the front in his sister's hand. “The maid found this on the escritoire in her room.”

Evan snatched it from his hands and yanked it open, trepidation making his heart pound. Taking a breath, he read the short text, his blood turning colder with each word.

My dear brother,

A friend recently taught me that sometimes, we must follow our hearts, no matter how daunting the risk. Today, I am taking the biggest risk of my life: I am marrying Harry. It is a very long story, one that I will be happy to recount when we return in a few days, but for now, let me just say that I learned I couldn't keep running from love. Please don't be angry with me. I simply couldn't live in fear and regret anymore.

Julia

Evan reread it, disbelief burrowing a hole straight through him. How . . . how could she do something so unbelievably reckless? After all they'd been through, after all the years of acting for the good of the family, and she simply decided to throw it away for
Harry
, of all people? Evan cursed, sick to his stomach
.
He crumpled the paper and lobbed it at the wall, making the butler flinch.

He turned on the man, barely managing not to lash out with all the fury burning in his gut. “When was she last seen?”

Visibly shaken, the butler cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “After breakfast, my lord. Lady Julia told her maid she wished for quiet today and that she would ring when she wished for anything. My lady closed the door to her chambers, and we assumed she had been there the rest of the day.”

Evan counted back. That was what, five hours ago? God help them, it was almost certainly too late to do anything. Where would they have gone? Who would have married them? A thousand questions somersaulted in his mind, none of them finding purchase. “Has she talked with anyone recently? Sent or received correspondence?”

“Only the letter to Sir Harry and the visit to Miss Wembley, my lord.”

Sophie.
Turning on his heel, Evan began pacing the room, trying to think. Julia was the one who had wanted Evan to go see Sophie today. Had she and Sophie somehow conspired about this yesterday? It was impossible to imagine sweet, innocent Sophie misleading him, but really, what other leads did he have to go on?

He dragged his fingers through his hair, furious but impotent to do anything about it. He thought of all the times he had implored his sister to be nice to Harry. Be kind; don't be such a shrew. Was she fighting whatever was between them all the while? Had he somehow had a hand in this as well? He gritted his teeth. They had deceived him. Julia, Harry, and possibly even Sophie.

But what could he do about it now? What if it wasn't too late after all? There was a chance, even if it was infinitesimal. With precious few options, he whipped back around to face the butler. “Have my horse saddled at once.”

In less than ten minutes, Evan was on his way back to
Sophie's townhouse, pushing his horse faster than was prudent on the city streets, but not nearly as fast as he wished. He hadn't expected to see her again anytime soon, and certainly not under such circumstances as these, but he steeled himself as he approached her street.

If she knew something—anything—then Evan intended to uncover it, by whatever means necessary. Arriving in front of her door, he jumped to the ground, threw the reins over the nearest post, and rushed to the house. Three harsh bangs later, the door was pulled open and Sophie's maid appeared in the doorway. Her eyes widened to saucers and she quickly dropped into a curtsy. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but Mrs. Wembley and Miss Sophie aren't at home.”

Stifling the urge to push past the girl to make sure for himself, he said, “Where are they?” As rude a question as had ever been asked, but right about then he didn't give a damn.

“Assembly Rooms, my lord. The concert.”