Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) Page 9

  She had no choice but to do this alone. She’d do anything to keep Lars safe. He might be an elf, a gorgeous and powerful elf, and wiser and stronger than a human. But he could still be shot from ambush or even poisoned.

  She’d not put him in danger again.

  But how could she exist without the pleasure of swiveling her hips on his powerful erection? And doing all the wonderful things he’d taught her? To bring them both to the screaming ecstasy she knew she’d never find with another man?

  * * * * *

  Sophie found the riding lessons a pleasure, even though Lars touched her as little as possible. He instructed one of the grooms to help her mount as he silently watched. Still, it gave her a chance to see him at more than the dinner hour. What he did all day she didn’t know, except for his piano playing. His skill was so pronounced, she noticed servants stopping in their duties with rapt expressions. Probably he spent some of his time catching up on the vast estate’s activities and tenants. She read a lot, chatted with the countess and counted the hours until the next riding lesson. At least she could touch him as he helped her dismount. He didn’t seem to want to delegate that task. That was of little help as he never took off his riding gloves until her feet touched the ground.

  And she polished her new theorem until she was certain it was a novel and even brilliant idea.

  Sophie knew her best chance to find Mallory would be in London. Since this wasn’t yet possible, perhaps she could track down the horrid villain from the ship. He might very well be on the lookout for her, especially if he had been sent by Mallory, the man she’d seen murder her father. And the black-bearded sailor might still be in the vicinity.

  That night at dinner she casually mentioned to the countess that she was woefully short of hair ribbons. Lars immediately perked up his beautiful elves’ ears and stared at her. Drat the man, he knew well she’d never care a hoot about having more ribbons. The countess, however, was delighted.

  “Of course, my dear, I’ll take you to Dover. I know a wonderful ribbon shop there. And you must buy as many as you wish. Maybe we could even find you a new hat or two. I do think you need some.”

  “Oh ma’am, I don’t need more hats. My closet is already full. Just some ribbons, please. And maybe we could drive around Dover a little? I’ve never been here and I’ve heard so much of its fascinations.”

  The countess clapped her hands with pleasure. “Of course, Sophie. I long to show you everything. The dock alone is a sight to see. It stretches far into the ocean. And the harbor itself is beautiful. And, oh, I forgot to mention Dover Castle.”

  Lars laughed. “If you do all that you’ll never have time to buy ribbons. Maybe you should only sightsee. In fact I think I’d like to go along with you ladies.”

  The countess beamed. “Wonderful. We’ll buy the ribbons in a hurry and then drive around town. Do you think we should arrange to stay the night in Dover?”

  Sophie was growing more alarmed by the minute. Taking in some of the wonders of Dover appealed to her, but she didn’t think the brute with the black beard would be sightseeing. She’d begun to call him Villain Two in her mind. He definitely wasn’t the type to enjoy history. And she didn’t want to endanger the countess’ safety by going to a hotel where they could be easily ambushed. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of Stephen Mallory, who would always be Villain One to her.

  “Oh can we shop first and then sightsee for a bit? I don’t seem to have the wits to take in too much information at once, and I’ll want to know all about something like the Castle.”

  Lars had been watching her with narrowed eyes. She knew well she hadn’t fooled him. She kept quiet, giving him a chance to speak.

  “I think Sophie is right. We should do the sightseeing by stages, one day at a time. I confess I love my own bed when I have a chance to be in it.”

  He spoke lightly, but Sophie stared at him and they both blushed. Both knew what they’d like to do in that bed. Sophie had seen the master suite when she had first arrived, and knew the luxurious bed would be a heavenly place for lovers. Her thoughts flushed her a deeper pink as she lowered her eyes.

  Lars grimaced and rose to leave. “I’ll see you both early in the morning. I’m going to go to the stables. One of the mares is about to foal. Don’t wait up for me.”

  His terse voice would have frozen a lesser heart than Sophie’s. Instead, she excused herself, pleading unusual fatigue.

  If Lars thought he could escape her by running to the stables she intended to follow him. His determined and hurried exit gave her hope. Maybe he’d had the same thoughts about that enticing bed.

  * * * * *

  Sophie dismissed Betsey and read in her room for a long while, although she soon realized she wasn’t absorbing a word, too anxious to hear Lars enter the house and walk past her door to his room. As the sky outside darkened, she went to the window. Lights were burning in the stables. Stars and a silvery quarter moon gleamed in the still night. The curtains blew gently in a soft breeze and the sweet night air should have brought her peace, but her whole concentration centered on Lars. He must still be in the stables, although she found that strange.

  She thought the countess was long asleep.

  She brushed her hair until it flowed in a golden cloud down her back, and tucked a shawl around her shoulders as she watched shadows drift over the crescent moon. She inhaled deeply of the sweet night air. It was time to go find Lars.

  * * * * *

  He was indeed in the stables, but not a Lars she’d ever seen. He wore a rubber apron covering most of him, and his gloved hands were smeared with blood. He was kneeling by a mare who lay supine in the straw, her body twitching in deep spasms.

  He looked up, saw her and frowned.

  “This is no place for any woman. Go to bed, Sophia. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Sophia? Evidently she truly was not wanted.

  “Can I help in anyway?”

  He didn’t even look up this time. “She can’t deliver. I’ll have to try to pull out the foal. It won’t be pretty. Please go at once, Sophia.”

  Sophie had ridden when she was younger and knew how to gentle a horse. She knew most horses disliked being touched around their face. She moved and began to stroke the mare’s shoulders, whispering to her as she sat back on her knees so she could comfortably continue for as long as needed.

  Lars looked a little less fierce. “You might be sorry if you insist, Sophie. It will be a bloody business.”

  He’d definitely forgiven her if he was calling her Sophie again. So she could stay.

  “Mares seldom have trouble delivering,” Lars explained. “When they do the only choice is to go in and get the foal and turn it so it comes out feet first. I wish I’d done it sooner.”

  Lars motioned to a groom to station himself beside him, and kneeling behind the mare, thrust his arms in the birth canal, frowning in concentration. Soon his face lightened and Sophie guessed he’d grabbed a small head. His shoulder muscles strained as he pushed with determination, seemingly using his strength to turn the little body around in the mare’s birth canal. After a while he started pulling, and Sophie knew that he’d succeeded. Very shortly the small foal arrived, and Lars held it for a while until it steadied. Then he set it on its long wobbly legs, grinning widely as he did so.

  The stable hand moved quickly and took Lars’ place for a few minutes, until it was obvious the foal could stand by himself, shaking himself to get free of the strange hands that were wiping him down. They all watched with pleasure as his trembling legs managed to hold him upright, and the mare lifted her head and let out a long sigh.

  Lars moved a little so he could pat her flanks. “You did well, Firefly. Very well. You’ve got a fine son.”

  The mare, who’d only twitched and groaned occasionally during her ordeal, flicked her eyes and then shut them for a much-needed nap.

  “She’ll be on her feet before you know it, Sophie.” His triumphant grin far eclipsed his bloody s
tate. His apron, his gloved hands and his arms were covered with blood. Sophie fought down a wave of nausea and managed a smile.

  “Lars, you were magnificent. As always.”

  Lars’ eyes blazed before he resumed his touch-me-not look. Or rather, his look that declared he’d not touch her.

  “I definitely have a lot of cleaning up to do. Thank you for coming, Sophie. I’m sure having another female here helped Firefly.” He stripped off his gloves and apron and threw them on the straw. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll shower here in the barn and then stay awhile with Firefly. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  His tone was definitely warmer and more like the old Lars. Had she passed some kind of test she didn’t even know about? She spoke with a bit of hesitation. This man could rattle her whatever mood he was in.

  “Lars, would you like to postpone our shopping trip? It wouldn’t matter to me.”

  “No, I don’t need as much sleep as most people. Elves don’t, you know. But you, my dear, perhaps you should consider sleeping in tomorrow.”

  “Am I really still your ‘dear’?” She didn’t try to keep the wistfulness from her voice.

  His eyes danced a little and he moved closer so he could speak to her privately. The stable hand had gone to fetch fresh water for the mare, but still he was careful of her reputation.

  “Don’t try to trap me, love. You know you are and always will be my very dear. All you have to do is consent to marry me and I’ll take you to bed and give you proof of how much you mean to me.”

  Sophie looked at him, wanting him so badly she quivered. How she craved his strong arms, which had always helped and protected her. As she hesitated his glance turned hot, and she knew he recognized her desire. Sophie fought to keep from rushing to him, bloody as he was. He took one step toward her, but stopped with a dismissive gesture toward his filthy state.

  Sophie shook her head, twining a lock of her hair around her finger as tears blurred her eyes.

  “It’s not that. I don’t care about your condition, not a bit. But I can’t do what you want.”

  His face instantly turned stony. He stepped back and turned away.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  His voice was bereft of feeling, almost bitterly neutral.

  Sophia walked slowly to the house, under a night sky now as clouded as her heart. She dashed to her room, hoping she’d meet no one. She was not going to let anyone see her cry.

  Had she weakened his ridiculous scruples at all?

  She doubted she’d made even a dent.

  * * * * *

  The next day shone with the beauty of southern England at its best. The clouds of the night had disappeared sometime while Sophie alternately dozed and wept. Morning found her determined to follow her plan. Locate Stephen Mallory and see him convicted for the murder of her father. Or kill him herself, if she found the right opportunity. She wouldn’t be at all averse to putting an end to the murdering villain who’d sold her to slavery. But first she must find him. Someplace other than the Mathematical Society’s meetings where she was positive he was lording over them all with equations that were not his own. She wanted to meet him privately and eliminate him.

  Today she planned to sniff out the black-bearded sailor he’d sent to kill her. Villain Two would certainly have a good idea of his master’s whereabouts.

  She thought at length about what to wear. If Lars was along, she must be discreet. She dressed carefully but let her hair flow down her back. If Smythe were looking for her at all he’d notice that. But she didn’t want a hat. She carried one with her, and when the countess met her in the hall as she waited for both son and mother, the older lady momentarily looked astonished.

  “But, Sophie, beautiful as your hair is, you must know you can’t go shopping with it loose like that. Where is your bonnet?”

  Sophie tried to look ingenuous, but as she started to speak Lars strode into the hall and stopped short when he saw her. His eyes narrowed, but then he smiled. A reaction that quite disconcerted her. Was the blasted man admiring her hair or getting suspicious? Maybe both.

  The countess turned to her son. “Sophie has a slight headache. She’ll put on a hat when we approach the shops.”

  Lars put his hand under Sophie’s chin and forced her to face him. His smile was tender, but far too knowing for Sophie.

  “This is needless, Sophie, but I’ll allow you to play it out.”

  Sophie lowered her eyes and the countess turned on her son. “Don’t talk in riddles, Lars. Now let’s go to Dover. I do long to show Sophie many of my favorite shops.”

  Sophie tried to smile as she inwardly groaned. She purely hated shopping. Having Lars along made it worse. It was hard enough controlling her emotions without him sitting there smiling at her. She knew his passion was barely leashed, as was hers. She hoped his mother didn’t look too closely at either of them.

  * * * * *

  The ride to Dover was uneventful, although Sophie rode most of the way with her head halfway out the window of the coach, her hair streaming behind her. Lars sat back with folded arms, a half-smile on his face.

  As they reached town, the countess insisted Sophie put on her hat. Lars patted Sophie’s hand.

  “Don’t worry, love. Smythe’s already spotted you. In fact, he’s long known where you are. You don’t need to signal your presence to him.”

  She turned startled eyes to him, as did the countess.

  “Lars,” his mother sputtered. “What are you talking about? I do wish I could overcome my scruples and read your mind.”

  Lars grinned. “Use your elfin senses, madam. A hired villain has been stalking Sophie for some time. He knows she’s with me. I posted extra men around the estate weeks ago. He’ll not get through to her, although he’s already tried twice and been rather forcibly rebuffed. And I’m not invading her mind. It’s just that her thoughts are so clear to me.”

  He patted Sophie’s hand and smiled an angel’s smile.

  Sophie gasped in sheer indignation.

  “Lars, you wretch. Why didn’t you tell me? You know I need him to lead me to Mallory if he’s lurking nearby.”

  “No, you definitely do not need him, Sophie. I’ll take you to London and Mallory as soon as you are fitted for new clothes. Mallory is there and I have plans for him myself. You are not the only one who intends to see to that villain.”

  Sophie stared at him, dumbfounded. Since his mother looked surprised, but then smiled at her perfidious son, Sophie assumed she was more used to his tricky methods than she was. Blasted aggravating elf. Well, at least she could look more respectable than she did now. She twisted her hair into a knot and secured it with pins she took from her pocket and put on her hat. Then she glared at Lars and turned to look out the window again.

  She’d make short work of buying the ribbons. In fact they could skip it altogether, as far as she was concerned.

  Irritating, high-handed, arrogant man.

  * * * * *

  Lars watched Sophie’s face as she first seemed almost indifferent to the colorful array of ribbons, and then became engrossed in fingering them as if she were savoring a tasty treat. She lingered over them, obviously liking the more vibrant ones. She finally gave one to the clerk to set aside, a cherry red ribbon embroidered with small white flowers.

  “Look, Lars, isn’t this beautiful?”

  Conscious of her breathless pleasure in such a minor thing, Lars resolved to swamp her with ribbons as well as other luxuries as soon as he had the chance. For now he smiled and agreed with her. Sophie finally narrowed her choice to three, not noticing the clerk had silently put aside all she considered but didn’t purchase. When they got home she’d find them all in her room, a rainbow of ribbons for every dress. He’d spotted a beautiful blue one that would match her riding outfit, and nodded to the clerk to add that one also.

  Finally she turned to Lars and his mother.

  “I hope I haven’t been selfish by spending so much time he
re. I never expected to enjoy shopping so much. But I do long to see the sights, so shall we go?”

  Delighted with her newly calm mood, Lars escorted his ladies to the carriage. Sophie would someday be able to shop to her heart’s content. He’d delight in spoiling her after they were married. His face sobered as he thought of how much he had yet to overcome before she’d consent to that coveted state.

  Mallory he could handle. His main concern was keeping Sophie from danger while he eradicated the scum. John Smythe would disappear once he was no longer paid by Mallory. He’d assist the bastard on his way with pleasure, although he wouldn’t mind dishing out a little personal vengeance to both of them. But keeping Sophie from taking too active and dangerous a part might be a challenge, even for a man with powers.

  Then he put negative thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on showing her the attractions of Dover. The famous white cliffs, the promenade and harbor, Dover Castle, and finally a glimpse of the ancient Roman ruins.

  Sophie was enchanted with them all. They drove by the first landmarks in their carriage, but the ruins intrigued her so she couldn’t contain her excitement. Lars finally laughed as she insisted on exploring parts of the ancient structure. He might have to carry her back to the coach.

  “What an infant you are. If I’d known you were this interested in history I’d have brought you here sooner. We’ll come again, love. We need to get home before it’s too dark.”

  Genuinely worried, Lars saw her understanding glance as he walked her back to the carriage where the countess waited.

  * * * * *

  The next day was spent at the modiste the countess patronized. Although Sophie yearned to get to London and pursue the villainous Mallory, she knew she couldn’t force Lars. He wanted her to have a complete new wardrobe more appropriate to London’s modish tastes, and she silently let him schedule fittings and help her choose shoes, hats and all the other items he deemed important. She asked for only one thing, a request that shocked the modiste who ran the shop. Lars only laughed.