The Sheik's Son Page 5

  There were smaller tables and chairs scattered throughout the large tent; most of the tables were filled, though some were empty. Sophie saw Madame Necker and her daughter seated at a table near the back. Germaine looked young and vibrant in a yellow silk dress while her mother was more sedate, in a pale aqua gown with silver embroidery trimming entwined at the neckline.

  “Sophie!” Germaine shouted to the younger woman from across the room, causing people to stare at her.

  Madame Necker admonished her daughter but wasn’t truly angry. Germaine was young and brash and she had found a friend in Sophie. Madame Necker highly approved of the younger woman, who was both educated and grounded, two things she admired.

  Sophie made her way over to the two women, with Eugenie trailing behind. Eugenie caught the eye of an older female friend and excused herself to speak with her.

  She could hear her grandmother exchanging pleasantries with the older woman and smiled. She was happy her grandmother would have a friend here and she could enjoy the Neckers’ company alone.

  “Dearest Sophie.” Madame Necker kissed both her cheeks and Sophie reciprocated.

  “Sophie!” Germaine exclaimed. “So glad you could come.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it at all. Although my father made certain my grandmother came with me as a sort of nursemaid and chaperone.” She sighed.

  “No, do not begrudge your grandmother her role. Your father is correct. And her presence here sends a message.” Madame Necker nodded in approval.

  Sophie was young and unspoilt. “What message?”

  “That you are not to be trifled with, my dear. That’s an important message. Monsieur Gauvreau was quite correct in sending her. Your father cares for you and your reputation.”

  Sophie nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean, though I would never tarnish our family name.”

  “Of course you would not!” Madame Necker smiled and patted the younger woman’s hand.

  “Tell her, Mother! Tell her about the second one,” Germaine interjected impatiently.

  Sophie looked confused. “The second one?”

  “Oui. Germaine thinks you are kindred spirits. Apparently there is another pamphlet from Monsieur Unknown.”

  “Indeed?” Sophie’s eyes brightened.

  “Yes. This one is more brash than the first and more passionate. Although I have not read it myself,” she said.

  “Does that shock you?” Sophie asked.

  Madame Necker’s laugh rang out so loudly that several people turned to her. “Shock me?”

  “Mother is a celebrated salonist and has some of the most intellectual people join her. She doesn’t shock easily, Sophie,” Germaine said, jumping to her mother’s defense.

  “No, ma petite. I am not shocked. No. I would say I am,” she paused for the right word, “intrigued.”

  Sophie felt a tingle in her body and knew true excitement in that moment. People of influence were reading her pamphlet. What would others say? Madame Necker, who was very esteemed, was intrigued. That must be a good thing, she told herself.

  “Let us get some tea and cakes.” Germaine pulled Sophie with her just as several people entered the tent.

  Sophie immediately recognized the Duke, dressed in a mint jacket and waistcoat and tan breeches. But several other men who had entered with him had their backs to the women. Dorset greeted several people before he caught sight of the auburn-haired beauty and her boisterous friend.

  He came forward smiling. “Mademoiselle Gauvreau.” His French accent was precise, though she knew it to be his second language.

  Sophie smiled that he had remembered her name. “Monsieur.”

  He kissed the back of her hand and did the same with Germaine. “Mademoiselle Necker.”

  Germaine greeted him with a nod and smile, but was eager to visit the sweets table.

  “I am so pleased that you have consented to join our little cricket game today.” Dorset’s eyes assessed Sophie boldly, taking in the trim waist, high breasts and sweet oval face. Her hazel eyes and auburn hair created a lovely picture.

  “It was kind of you to invite me,” she allowed.

  Dorset was no stranger to women, but this young woman was an intoxication of youth and innocence, and he wanted her. He saw the other two men moving forward, speaking together, and motioned them over.

  “Allow me to introduce Andrew Holland and Etienne Pousson. Gentlemen, this is Germaine Necker and Sophie Gauvreau.”

  Everyone said their hellos, though Germaine was disappointed that the Duke’s secretary was not among the gentlemen.

  “We were just going to the sweets table and also to get a cup of tea,” Sophie explained.

  The entire group moved to the sweets table, and Dorset continued to watch Sophie carefully. She held herself in a regal manner and he had already decided that she would be his next conquest.

  “Would you pleasure me with a dinner one evening?” Dorset asked Sophie, his voice low and quiet while Germaine’s attention was elsewhere, taking the selection of a pastry very seriously.

  Andrew took the opportunity to tease Germaine about Sebastian’s absence as he knew the young woman had a crush on his friend. Etienne had moved away from the group.

  “I would be delighted, Monsieur. I am sure I can speak for my grandmother that we would both enjoy such an evening in your company,” she replied.

  Etienne heard the auburn beauty’s response to Dorset’s invitation and smiled. This one would not be an easy prey.

  Dorset took a moment to catch himself. “Of course. Excellent. I will let my secretary fill you in on the details when they have been decided.”

  He bid goodbye to the ladies, but lingered a moment with Sophie.

  “Until we meet again,” he said.

  ***

  The cricket match continued on, and much of it was confusing and not very interesting. The ladies kept to the tent much of the game and Eugenie spent her time gossiping with her friend and keeping an eye on Sophie.

  Sophie had tried very hard to understand the rules of the game and keep an eye on the players, but in truth, she was not that interested. Dorset seemed very agitated while playing and was greatly concerned about his team, which was composed entirely of Englishmen.

  The other team was made up of Frenchmen and, sadly for the duke, most people were rooting for them. A light drizzle caused many of the spectators to move inside, but the duke remained steadfast in his desire to see his team win.

  She watched from outside the tent but underneath a large tree near the game. She saw several people she knew on the French side who were friends of her father’s. She gasped suddenly when she noticed Alphonse sitting along the lawn in a chair. She had not noticed him before as she had not seen him enter the refreshment tent.

  She watched him speak to several ladies and recognized his mother and sister. He stood abruptly and made his way towards Sophie. She had no desire to engage in conversation with him, but she had promised her father that she would be nice and she would keep that promise. Besides, Alphonse wasn’t a bad man, just very average and not stimulating.

  “My dear Sophie.” Alphonse came to her, smiling.

  He took her hand in his and gestured a simple kiss, though in reality he barely touched her. “I am stunned to see you here. I would not have thought a cricket game would interest you in the least,” he said.

  Alphonse had blond hair, though prematurely balding, with pale blue eyes set in a pudgy face. He had always been chubby, even as a child. He was a few inches taller than Sophie and had been a companion since childhood. Eugenie liked him and wanted a match between them. His grandmother on his mother’s side was a baroness.

  “I could say the same for you, Alphonse,” she replied. “But you are correct. This game is not something I would have chosen myself. The duke invited me.”

  “The duke? Of Dorset?” Alphonse frowned.

  “Yes. We met by chance at Madame Necker’s salon and he invited me.”

 
; “Madame Necker’s salon? Indeed? Sophie Gauvreau, you surprise me.”

  Sophie smiled. “It was my father’s invite to the salon, and he asked me to attend as well.”

  “I am jealous, if anything. Madame Necker has the most celebrated and esteemed intellectuals surround her. To attend her salon is prestigious.”

  “I did enjoy it,” she admitted.

  “Your father and grandmother are well?”

  “Yes. Your mother and sister?”

  “Also well.” He smiled.

  Alphonse was dressed simply in a black coat, waistcoat and breeches, and looked like a clergyman. He accompanied Sophie to the tent and she placed him in the company of her grandmother, who fussed over him like a lost grandson.

  When Sophie left the tent again, a light rain had fallen and the game seemed to be postponed. The tree which had provided shelter before was not so accommodating. Players were running inside the tent and all of a sudden there seemed to be no one on Earth but Sophie.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in the cool scent, in complete blissful solitude. It was a decadent feeling to be entirely alone in the world, she thought happily.

  “You’re going to catch a cold,” came a deep voice.

  Sophie whirled around to find a man standing near her underneath another tree.

  Her palms were flat against the trunk as she steadied her breath. “So are you.”

  The man smiled. He looked like he might be French but there was something dark and foreign about him. His wavy brown hair was caught back with a silk ribbon but his brown eyes looked hotly at her. He was not dressed in the silks, satins and pastels that she so often saw in Paris. Instead, he wore dark brown breeches, a white waistcoat and a navy blue coat. He looked like a military man.

  “You should go back inside. Your lover might be missing you,” he said, his back against the trunk of his tree and his arms crossed over his chest.

  “My lover?”

  “The priest.”

  “Alphonse?” Sophie asked.

  He shrugged.

  “He’s a childhood friend,” she said, irritated with the entire conversation and not wanting to give this stranger any detail.

  “Children grow up.”

  “Apparently not all,” she said, becoming more annoyed by him.

  He laughed. “Did you just call me a child?”

  Sophie shrugged in return.

  He looked over the auburn-haired beauty dressed in a pink gown, looking delicious and fresh. He had seen her briefly in the tent with Madame Necker and then again outside talking to the priest. She was a woman who could inspire lust, but also a feeling of protection. She had an innocent look about her, but also a tart tongue.

  “You should be careful, mademoiselle. A grown man will not like being called a child,” he admonished.

  Sophie dismissed him and their conversation. “Then don’t assume things that you know nothing about.”

  Suddenly he was standing beside her. His hair was wet from the rain and the drops clung to him, dripping onto his navy blue coat.

  “I think for the insult of calling me a child, you owe me something.” He spoke softly.

  In the rain she could smell the grass and a scent that clung to him. It was a masculine smell of tobacco and wood.

  “I owe you something?” She laughed lightly. “I think not.”

  She was sure this handsome stranger was used to having women do anything he wanted. But she would not be one of those women. In fact, the more she pondered it, the more arrogant the man appeared and the more that annoyed her.

  “I think one kiss will pay the debt for your insult,” he told her quietly.

  Sophie thought for a moment that she had misheard him. One moment she was in the rain enjoying the silence and now she was being accosted by a stranger. She would scream.

  “You could scream,” he suggested.

  Sophie looked into his handsome face and he smiled broadly.

  “Women. You think alike.”

  “Indeed? I’m quite certain the women you are used to don’t think at all,” came her retort.

  When he dipped his head down to touch her lips with his, Sophie wanted to scream. But then suddenly she wanted to feel his lips on hers. He was arrogant and self-centered and used to getting what he wanted. She would show him. But the feeling was tantalizing as his mouth touched hers and she had to curl her fingers into the bark of the tree behind her to stop herself from winding them into his hair.

  At first his lips were warm against her cool ones. Then she felt his hand on her neck and she opened her mouth and his tongue was touching hers delicately, intimately.

  He could feel himself harden and realized it had happened with only one simple, innocent kiss from the auburn-haired lovely. It was a feeling that he welcomed in the rain under the tree. She smelled of floral and sweet orange flowers and it was as if he’d stumbled upon a garden amid the rain. He knew she was holding back because she deliberately kept her hands away from him.

  She closed her eyes and felt his tongue teasing her mouth and his hand on her neck. She savored the feeling, wanting it never to end and wanting it to stop. She was behaving badly and it was unseemly. If her grandmother saw her, she would probably faint. Before Sophie changed her mind, she bit down on the man’s bottom lip.

  “Hoyden!” He pulled away, his tongue licking blood from his tiny wound.

  Sophie backed away. “You lack any semblance of manners!” She made her way back to the safety of the refreshment tent as her heart pounded in her chest.

  Meanwhile, Sebastian stood in the rain tasting blood, with her scent still lingering in the air.

  ***

  Dorset had asked that Sebastian speak to the young lady he had invited for dinner. He wanted her to know the time and place, and asked to be pardoned for having to leave early from the match. The girl was to join him at his home for an intimate dinner and he would, of course, be delighted to entertain her grandmother as well.

  “Grandmother?” Sebastian asked.

  “Don’t ask,” Dorset said. “She’s a lady and her grandmother will act as chaperone.”

  Sebastian shrugged. This would be a first, he thought.

  “She’s sitting with Madame Necker and her daughter Germaine,” Dorset said as he entered his carriage.

  “It will be done, sir.”

  Sebastian walked towards the tent, still relishing the taste of the unknown woman. He would have to find her. He hadn’t been so intrigued by a woman in a long time. He knew from her response that she was an innocent and he would savor her all the more.

  He looked through the tent and saw Madame Necker in deep conversation with two women and he moved toward them.

  Germaine saw him coming and bounded up to meet him. “Hello, Sebastian,” she said, smiling.

  “Mademoiselle,” he returned as she led him to the table.

  Madame Necker motioned to the empty seat and then spoke. “I don’t think you know our newest addition. Sebastian Fairfax, this is Sophie Gauvreau. Sophie, this is Sebastian Fairfax.”

  Sebastian turned to the young woman and looked deep into the hazel eyes of the witch who had bitten his lip in the drizzle of a Paris rain.

  Chapter 6

  Sophie’s eyes narrowed as she saw the man who had accosted her outside in the rain. She wanted to point to him and yell that he was a seducer of women, but then smiled to herself. That only happened to women who read too many novels. She was determined to be a woman of the world. An intellectual woman of the world. The only way to deal with a man like him would be to ignore him entirely.

  “Monsieur Fairfax,” she said coolly, extending out her hand.

  He bowed to her slightly and took her hand in his. “Mademoiselle Gauvreau. A pleasure.” He kissed her hand, as expected, but his finger lingered underneath it, touching her palm intimately.

  She blushed lightly at the touch and he smiled. He saw she was not so immune to him as she would like him to think.

  She sna
tched her hand away as Germaine continued to smile at him like a lovesick puppy. Madame Necker had excused herself and Sophie took this moment to excuse herself as well to join the line at the coffee and tea table.

  She saw large porcelain pots containing tea and coffee that was being poured into cups with saucers and she concluded that the duke must have provided everything for this game. He was a wealthy man who enjoyed showing off.

  “Don’t run away, I’m not the one who bites.” Sophie heard a whisper in her ear from behind her.

  She sighed at the intrusion and turned to Sebastian as he licked his sensuous bottom lip, where she had inflicted the damage.

  “Perhaps if you could behave yourself as any gentleman would, you wouldn’t be bitten,” she explained.

  What gentleman could resist the temptation of tasting those delicious lips, he wondered.

  “I’ll try to work on my proper behavior, mademoiselle,” he replied in a serious tone.

  Sophie turned back to the queue and tried to ignore him. “What you do is of no concern to me, monsieur.”

  “Bash.”

  “I’m sorry?” She turned to him, confused.

  “I’m called Sebastian. Though my friends and intimates call me ‘Bash,’” he clarified.

  “Then I will call you monsieur.”

  Sebastian laughed as the line advanced. “I came to find you. I have a message for you from the duke.”

  Sophie frowned and then realized he spoke the truth. “The secretary. You’re the secretary.”

  “I am.”

  “The message?” she asked impatiently.

  He gave her the time and place of the duke’s residence and informed her that a carriage would arrive a half hour before dinner to transport her and her grandmother to the duke’s home in a few days’ time.

  “Merci, monsieur.”

  “You should be careful, mademoiselle,” Sebastian said seriously.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The duke’s reputation.”

  Sophie almost laughed. “His reputation?”

  “Yes, with women.”

  Sophie laughed and her creamy throat was exposed. Sebastian wanted to run his fingers down its length and cover her mouth with his.