Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) Page 15

  Ibn Saud roared with laughter.

  “Remind me not to get on your list of grievances, my Lord Lars. And you did give me the most unforgettable night of my life with my Falak. Can you do that again for me? If so, our little differences will be forgotten.”

  Ibn Saud’s avid glance was just what Lars had hoped for. He smiled with all the exuberance he felt. Sophie was safe, her chief enemy would soon be castrated and subject to the same slavery he’d meant for her.

  “I can, your eminence. Might I have a little dinner first? I do so love your Turkish food. And the conversation with you I’ve missed.”

  His eyes glinting with anticipation, Ibn Saud clapped his hands and two slaves hastened to obey.

  “Call for Falak to come serve us. We will dine as good friends should. Then you will escort my friend to his yacht. His men will provide you with someone to bring back to me. I think this gift is imprudent, dangerous and in need of all your caution. Take every care of him until I can question him.”

  He paused for second and, almost smiling, added, “Use any means you deem necessary to make him amenable.”

  The servants started bringing in a plethora of dishes, and Lars settled down to enjoy the wonderful food and conversation. He’d missed the Caliph, even though he was a sybaritic reprobate. Now his gamble had paid off, Sophie was safe and Mallory would rot in an even worse hell than he’d planned for Sophie.

  There might be justice in this world after all.

  He wouldn’t have to cast any kind of sexual spell on Ibn Saud. He wasn’t even sure he could do so except in times of extreme danger. Just thinking he was able to do so would work as well with a man of the Caliph’s libidinous tendencies.

  He watched as Falak entered, her kohl-rimmed eyes glittering with anticipation. She first paid deep obeisance to the Caliph, who looked her up and down with simmering anticipation. Then she turned and salaamed almost as deeply to Lars.

  “Lord Lars, you are indeed welcome. Do you bring your unique gifts with you?”

  Ibn Saud laughed as he motioned her closer. Running his hands over her, he tweaked both her nipples and smiled as her eyes shone.

  “You will have to wait awhile for my full attention, my sweet Falak. I want this gentleman to have a feast to remember. We are reconciled, and I do indeed think he’s brought us an unusual gift. You may serve us yourself, and although I would call another houri to serve Lord Lars he seems to not to want any other than his precious fiancée. The northerners are peculiar in this regard, you know.”

  He kissed the tips of her breasts, sucking them a little through the gauze and bringing a slight moan from Falak and a glitter to his own eyes.

  Lars almost groaned at the sight of so many dishes. While he adored Turkish food, he wanted to get back to his ship, hand Mallory to the Caliph and head home. Maybe he’d better see if he could increase Ibn Saud’s sexual desire. Concentrating his mind, he found it easier than he thought. After an hour he thought the lust on the Caliph’s face was so pronounced he could safely excuse himself. Ibn Saud was gracious to the end, but as Lars turned to go he saw him yank Falak into his arms and start stripping her of the few gauzy garments she wore.

  Grinning, he thought he’d be safe to leave. Definitely his elfin powers had returned. Calling to the two big servants waiting outside the door to come with him, he led the way to his yacht and the final disposition of Mallory.

  His mission accomplished, he wanted to get back to Sophie as soon as possible. A faint premonition of alarm made him consider transporting himself and letting his yacht come as soon as his crew could manage. The thought mushroomed in his mind as he called on his powers.

  The message came through loud and clear. Sophie needed him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sophie sat through the night by the countess’ bed. Toward dawn the much-loved woman began to twitch and moan a little, and Sophie immediately sunk to her knees. If she only knew more than the few remedies she’d essentially taught herself. If only Lars were here.

  No dodging the fact this was all up to her. The maids were too terror-stricken to be of any use. Even Abbie seemed to be unable to do anything helpful. The girl had borne up well during two nights. Now she looked as if she could break into hysterics at any moment. Although Sophie knew this was partly due to the affection the girl had for her mistress, still it exasperated Sophie. At a time when she needed intelligent help she didn’t have it.

  Swallowing a sigh, she asked for fresh cool water and proceeded to bathe the countess’ face, chest and arms. At least Abbie could still function on this basic level.

  She was so very tired. She’d been sitting by the bed for too many days for her to remember, leaving only when she was too exhausted to do anything but catch a little rest. Even then she’d insisted she be called after a few hours so she could return to her vigil.

  Maybe she could relax for a moment or two by putting her head on the bed. Her biggest fear was she’d fall asleep and miss a change in the countess’ condition, but surely she could rest a few minutes. The countess’ color was much better, and she seemed to be moving in the bed more frequently.

  She woke with a start. Lars was standing beside her, his handsome face worried and half-angry, his dark eyes raking her face. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the big armchair, holding her on his lap and kissing her face on any spot he could reach.

  “My god, Sophie, are you trying to kill yourself? You look like death warmed over.”

  The concern in his tone sounded like pure anger to her, and she burst into long-withheld tears. Even so she managed to choke out her concern for the countess, and Lars hugged her to him and kissed her on her lips, this time more deeply. The hunger she’d withheld for so long made her throw her arms around his neck and kiss him even as tears ran down her cheek.

  “My mother is fine, my love. I checked the minute I got in the house. She’s weak and it will take time to build up her strength again, but her elfin heritage will enable her to heal faster than most. She was so close to death. But you, Sophie. You’ve pushed yourself to the limit. It’s off to bed with you while I watch Mama. We’ll talk when you’ve slept a good long while.”

  She patted his face, content for the moment to snuggle in his arms and stare at his beloved face. Certainly the countess would be well if Lars said so. She had so much to tell him but before she could say a word Lars kissed her lips with a deep ardor she could not resist.

  “Be quiet, my love. Mallory is taken care of and you and I now have the rest of our lives to talk. I love you more than I can say, but for now you need to sleep.”

  Too exhausted to do anything but give him a tremulous smile, she closed her eyes. Lars stood with her still in his arms, gazing at her with patent adoration. She hoped her own face conveyed the love she felt as she relaxed into the warmth of his beloved arms. Then he carried her to her room, and not bothering to undress her, laid her on the bed. Pulling the covers over her, he gave her one last soft kiss and left.

  * * * * *

  Sophie slept for thirty-six hours. If Lars wasn’t with her he checked her mentally from his mother’s bedside. When he knew she was stirring, he kissed his mother and rose to leave.

  “Sophie’s starting to wake, Mama. I want to be there when she opens her eyes. You’re doing very well, you know, even if you’re still weaker than I like.”

  “Nonsense, I’m doing very well indeed. Go to her, Lars. I wouldn’t be here talking to you without that darling girl.”

  She’d told him the whole story of the poisoned medicine and while he was inwardly seething, he controlled his anger. When both his women were well he’d see to that little matter. Maria, the Viscountess of Barnsworth. Lady Maria Fordyce-Collins. Mother of Annabelle, the spoiled brat who’d tried so many times to ensnare Lars.

  A tricky problem, this. Revenge on two spoiled members of the ton. He’d like to take a whip to both of them, but that would hardly do. He would, however, see that they both paid for their reckless sins.
Dammit, without Sophie he would have lost his mother and with it any chance of securing his love.

  One outstanding benefit of this whole wretched affair revolved in his mind. His beautiful Sophie could scarcely tell him again she was unworthy. Not exactly the result those two wicked harpies had planned, but one he’d exploit to the limit.

  Even as he mused, he heard the butler knock on the already open door.

  “Milord, there’s a visitor here for the countess. She wanted to know how the countess was. I thought I’d better check with you before I said anything.

  Lars raised his eyes in surprise. “Banning, you’re worth every cent I pay you. Who’s calling?”

  The Viscountess of Barnsworth, milord.”

  A slow grin spread across Lars’ face. “Banning, you just earned a raise. Which room did you put her in?”

  “The small brown study, milord.”

  Banning didn’t say another word but Lars smiled as he stalked to the least used room in the mansion. It was dark and not at all inviting. Maybe he’d ask Sophie to redecorate it as one of her first duties as his countess.

  He strode in the room, his face stern as he saw the perfidious snake of a woman who dared call herself his mother’s friend.

  She simpered and smiled at him.

  “This is not a room I’d ever expect to wait in, my dear Count. So dismal. You should speak to your servants. I’d be angry if I were not so concerned about my dear friend.”

  Lars reined himself in. It would do no good to pick up the woman and bodily throw her out of the house. He wanted more revenge than that.

  Looking at her coolly, he parted his hair and stroked the tip of one of his ears. And watched the awe on her perfidious face. Walking past her, he strode to the one window and stood with his back against it. With his superior vision he could easily see her expression but she could not see his. Still the force of his furious anger must have reached her, as she shrunk back.

  “Indeed, madam. I’m surprised to hear of your concern. Or are you worried you didn’t put enough poison in the medicine you so kindly brought my mother?”

  She whitened as she tried to meet his eyes and couldn’t.

  “I have no idea what you mean, Count. I brought her a remedy for her headache. She’s been worrying excessively about you, you know.” She fairly sputtered at the end of her futile attempt to change the subject.

  Lars fixed her with cold, contemptuous eyes.

  “Don’t bother, madam. I know the truth. I can read it in your black heart. Were you so resentful I saw your daughter as the manipulative and selfish person she’s become?”

  The Viscountess trembled at the scorn and the barely concealed fury in his voice.

  He continued in tones even more implacable.

  “You can do nothing against my power, madam. Nothing. I could expose you for the conniving creature you are, but I will not at this time. It would only cause complications and consternation. You will, however, leave London within three days for an extended stay in Paris or whatever foreign city you choose. Your daughter will accompany you. Four years abroad for both of you will do as a minimum.”

  The viscountess turned an ugly shade of purple. Putting her hand to her mouth, she began to sputter.

  “Four years. You’re insane. I’m innocent of your charges. You’ll ruin all hopes of an advantageous marriage for Annabelle.”

  He took a step toward her, tall and formidably male, his arms crossed over his chest. He moved a little to one side so one pointed ear plainly showed in a shaft of light, and let loose enough of his power to stun her for the needed moment. She stood stock-still, then widened her eyes and trembled as she felt the paralysis leave her.

  “That was a sample of my elfin powers. Do you want me to unleash all of them against you and your daughter? I advise you to leave now before you anger me further. If I hear any gossip about this episode or one word against my fiancée I’ll find you and make you sorry beyond your imagination. Warn your daughter, madam. And leave within three days.”

  He wheeled and, brushing past her, left the room, impervious to the wailing coming from the Viscountess of Barnsworth. His servants could escort her to her carriage. He hoped he’d never see her again. But if his mother or Sophie had a relapse he’d likely hunt her down and pound a stake through her vicious heart.

  Putting dark thoughts aside, he ran up the stairs and down the hall to Sophie. His beautiful Sophie, who held his heart more tightly gripped than he thought she knew.

  He found her sitting on the edge of the bed, frowning as if disappointed.

  He went quickly to her, lifting her in his arms in a joyous swoop and carrying her to the nearest armchair. Settling her on his lap, he smoothed her hair from her face and kissed her with a love he was determined to keep in check. Her gown was sheer and plainly showed her nipples and the swatch of golden hair between her legs. His erection surged as it always did when he held her, but now the long time apart made him doubly amorous. It was all he could do not to enter her on the spot.

  Sophie started as she felt his cock prod into her backside, and then she smiled with pleasure. She swiveled and held his face between her hands and kissed him, a long, ardent kiss that made him throb even more strongly against her. Delighted, he returned the kiss with a swirling exploration of her lips and the inner folds of her mouth. Knowing he could easily slip the leash he had on himself, he broke the kiss and reared back to look at her.

  She was so damned beautiful. Long blonde hair a little tangled from her sleep, and all the more charming for its disarray. It still flowed around her like a golden cloak. Eyes shining with what he hoped was a love as strong as his. And unless he managed to get her covered quickly, every curve and slim line revealed. If she were better he’d take her back to the bed and indulge himself, but she’d exhausted herself caring for his mother, and he owed her every consideration he could show her.

  “Lars, how is your mama?”

  “She’s well, my love. You saved her life, you know.”

  As she shook her head he hugged her to him.

  “Sophie, you’ve lost weight. I think you’d better go back to bed and rest. I’ll send someone in with a meal. Is there anything you’d particularly like? Name it and it’s yours, my little love.”

  She shook her head and lowered her eyes.

  “What is it, love? Ice cream? Cake? Caviar? Whatever you want I swear I’ll find.”

  She raised her deeply fringed lashes and looked at him as directly as only his Sophie could do.

  “You. I want you, Lars. I do want to go back to bed. But I want you to come with me. Preferably naked and on top of me. And in me, Lars. Deep as you can go.”

  Lars stared, the mental image almost overpowering. Exactly what he wanted, but he hadn’t yet succeeding in getting her to agree to marry him. Suddenly he smiled. That was a foregone conclusion. He knew with certainty he would take her for his wife and soon. He’d bed her now and convince her later. No more trying to hold off in order to force her hand. That had been unutterably selfish of him. No wonder his elfin mentor had felt it imperative to jerk his leash a little. Besides, he had all the arguments on his side and she didn’t have a chance.

  And she seemed to want him as much as he wanted her.

  Carrying her to the bed, he started to strip her of her flimsy night robe. Her throaty chuckle stopped him.

  “Lars, lock the door. I don’t want to be interrupted for quite a while.”

  He practically ran to do her bidding and then hurried back to stand by her again, quickly tossing off his coat. She sat in bed and tried to unbutton his shirt, but he stopped her by simply ripping it off and throwing it on the floor. His boots followed, and then his pants. Sophie lay back, her hands behind her head, watching his every moment with avid concentration.

  “Lars, you are so beautiful. Come to me now.”

  She shifted and raised her arms and he stripped off her flimsy gown.

  She was the goddess of love personified. He tried
to slow himself as he took her in his arms, fingering her mound and her clit, gently at first and then rapidly as she writhed against his hand.

  “Hurry, Lars. It’s been so long.”

  His cock was huge, hard and pounding. The time without her had indeed been too long. Still he retained enough sense to know prolonging the pleasure would only intensify it. She deserved more than just a quick fuck. How could he express fully his deep love by just inserting his cock and coming in the rush his body urged? Kissing every inch of her face, he tried to ward off her seeking hands with one of his.

  She wouldn’t be persuaded. Reaching for his cock, she ran her fingers over the engorged large length. With a gasp he realized he’d not last a full minute if he let her have the amorous pleasure stroking him seemed to give her. Capturing both her hands with one of his, he lowered his head to suck her peaked nipples until she writhed and begged him to free her so she could caress him. Instead he ran his tongue over her mound and its erectile nubbin, now raised and seeming to want his attention. Sucking on her made her soon cry out.

  “Lars, my love, please come into me. Now. Or if you prefer, let me ride you.”

  He knew better than to allow that. He’d go off like a primed gun if she did much more than lie there while he brought her to the crashing climax he wanted. She was dripping wet, but still he sought to draw out the pleasure. He entered her slowly. Watching her face as her eyes widened at his size and then smiling a little and holding still until her body accommodated his cock. She raised her hips and took him, inch by inch, thrashing against him even she clenched him with muscles of her lower body and her tight vagina.

  Lars had never felt such ecstasy.

  Knowing their marriage was predestined and that she’d not escape him somehow made their joining more poignant and intense than ever before.

  He wanted to draw out the rapture and savor to the full this union sealing the knowledge their love and ardor was mutual. They’d been too long without each other. He tried to stroke slowly, but soon found himself pounding into her as she grasped his hips with her legs and urged him on, their thrusts synchronized in a scorching dance of love.