Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) Page 7

  “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 me
ntioned 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?”

  The countess fairly bristled, and Sophie worked to suppress her smile. Her big, strong Lars was not above being challenged by this diminutive female. What a shame she could never marry Lars. Not only did that thought depress her beyond belief, but she couldn’t help but think of what an admirable team she and the countess would make. Lars wouldn’t stand a chance.

  She hid a smile when Lars blushed like a schoolboy caught writing a note to his current crush.

  “I might have, Mother. But believe me, I’ll make it up to her soon. All we need is a chance for me to explain a few things. Sophie is eminently reasonable, and I might need to apologize for being more uninformative than I should have been.”

  Sophie wheeled to face him. “You presuming, arrogant man. Uninformative is too mild a word.” Then she drew herself up and turned back to the countess. “If I could be excused, madam, I’d like to freshen up a little. Then I assure you, Lars and I will have a little talk.”

  The countess beamed on her. “Good for you, my dear. Lars needs a stronger hand than mine. I spoiled him dreadfully all his life.”

  Lars’ eyebrows shot up, and Sophie swore she could see his peaked ears grow more prominent as she watched. Before she could say anything else, the butler came to the door.

  “Milady, I tried to keep them away. You have visitors who barged right past me.”

  “Oh demons below.” Lars groaned as he spotted the two women sailing through the door. They briefly greeted the countess and then headed straight for Lars. They were both beauties, one with hair a darker brown than Lars, and the other a gorgeous redhead.

  “Lady Cynthia Fremont and Lady Annabelle Fordyce-Collins.”

  The butler’s stoic announcement came a little late, as the two women zeroed in on Lars, both of them grabbing him and kissing a cheek.

  Lars disengaged their hands and stepped back. “How surprising to see you both so quickly. Quite amazing. I arrived home only minutes ago.” His tone made plain his disdain for such poor manners.

  The redhead flushed but the brunette gave an airy laugh.

  “Oh then aren’t we lucky. We’ve called on your mother often though, and now to find you home is such a pleasure.”

  Lars stood as rigid and stony as the marble bust statue of Pan that Sophie could see in the corner of the room. His voice sounded as cold as the sculpture.

  “It’s a shame then that I have to ask you to leave. I’ll converse with you another time, but right now I have many things to discuss with my mother and my fiancée.”

  He slightly emphasized the last word and both ladies wheeled and looked at Sophie.

  “Fiancée? You’re joking.” The redhead seemed too astonished to say another word.

  “Lady Fremont, I assure you I’m not.” Lars’ tone dripped icicles. “But we’re currently involved in discussing the wedding plans, so if you’ll excuse us, we’ll tell you what they are when we’ve decided on the details.”

  The dark-haired visitor looked as if she’d explode with anger.

  “Lars, you must be joking. This, this provincial? With that excuse of a bonnet? Why, she’s not even dressed in the best fashion.”

  Lars strode to the door, where he found the butler waiting in the hall. “Simmons, please show the visitors out. At once.”

  His freezing voice would have cowed any normal man or woman. Their two uninvited guests started to leave, both casting venomous looks at Sophie, who held her head high and returned a stony look of her own. Lars walked back to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her cheek. Sophie only hoped those arrogant hussies had seen him do so, and from the slight huff from Lady Annabelle she thought they had.

  As soon as they were gone he held Sophie a little away from him.

  “I’m so very sorry, my love. Those two harpies have always been impossibly headstrong. They’ve had no encouragement from me.”

  The countess nodded. “Lars always tells the truth, you know. Those two seem to have some sort of rivalry going as to who gets Lars. It’s only been in their flighty heads. Lars would never lead a woman on.”

  Sophie sighed and shook her head. She felt exhausted and bewildered, and she didn’t want to think at all for a whi
le.

  “Come, I’ll show you to your room. I hope you like it.”

  His voice was soft and velvety but she was too tired to care.

  The countess kissed her cheek. “Ring for anything you want. Now rest, dear girl. Everything will straighten out. Lars will never let you down.”

  Tears sprang to Sophie’s tired eyes. She kissed the countess’ hand before turning away. Lars quickly tucked her own hand on his arm and, murmuring to her, led her from the room.

  “When you’ve slept awhile and want to come back you have only to ring and your maid will escort you. It’s hard to find your way around this monster of a house until you’ve been here awhile. I’ll go with you now. I want to make sure you like your room.”

  Sophie’s emotions were creating a firestorm in her head. She longed to have Lars console her as her lover, instead of being so damned courtly. His sheer masculinity, always devastating, now brought forth conflicting emotions. She wanted to rant at him for keeping her so in the dark. She wanted to be cherished and swept into such a passionate embrace they both lost control. She’d never give up her independence as a thinking woman, and he’d devalued that side of her by acting with such secrecy. But now the longing to be folded in his arms swamped her senses.

  She wanted more than that. She wanted him inside her, his powerful body pulsing in hers until there was nothing in the world but their love.

  She wanted him gone before she burst into tears.

  He stopped in front of a door and threw it open, motioning Sophie to enter before him. Taking a deep breath, she regained her almost-lost equilibrium. Shades of blue and lavender—some light, some bright, some blended in lovely patterns of birds—greeted and soothed her. Oriental vases, probably priceless, held delphinium in their own varying shades of blue. Luxurious purple cushions were strewn on the beige chaise and armchairs. She walked to the nearest window and threw it open, closing her eyes for a moment as the fresh air, fragrant from the garden below, drifted in. The scent of flowers and new-mown grass that she loved. England’s lush countryside, that she’d never seen so in bloom and welcoming.