She would take great pleasure in putting this rogue in his place.
“Perhaps it was wrong of me to judge you so harshly,” she said softly, dismissing all of her fears and doubts. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “I’m sure you are regarded as highly intelligent by your peers.” When she moved her hands up over his shoulders, she heard him suck in his breath, heard his groan of appreciation. “But I don’t think half the whores in London count,” she yelled as she pushed him back into the chair with all the force she could muster.
Sophie swung around, crossed the study and was at the door when he grabbed her arm and brought her back round to face him. Like Lucifer, he glared at her, his dark eyes penetrating her soul. Anyone else would have expired on the spot but Sophie was swimming in the sea of success and he was drowning in turbulent waves of emotion.
“I see some things never change,” he growled. “You are just as bloody irritating.”
She shrugged her arm out of his grasp. “How strange. It did not seem to bother you a moment ago when you were panting like a dog.”
He jerked his head back as though he’d been stung. But when he spoke, his words were calm, measured and dripping with sarcasm. “What an eloquent turn of phrase. Do all the ladies of your acquaintance share your … unconventional habits?” His eyes roamed over her hair, over the front of her nightgown and Sophie crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.
“Do you always lose control so easily?” Sophie countered.
The corners of his mouth twitched, whether in anger or amusement she could not quite tell, but she could feel the restrained tension emanating from every muscle in his body.
“Do not mistake me for a fool, Miss Beaufort. I have been in control of this situation from the moment you entered my house, from the moment you began prowling around in a state of dishabille to snoop in my desk.”
Sophie opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his hand to silence her.
“Let us stop this game,” he continued, “and let us examine the reason why you find in necessary to behave like such a hoyden.”
Hoyden? The man had the nerve of the Devil. He’d spent the last six years entertaining his mistresses on the Continent without a thought for his tenants.
He strolled over to the chair next to the fireplace, sat down and began tugging on his boot.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Undressing,” he uttered casually. “I know what you’ve come for. I know what you want.”
Chapter 6
Sebastian took great pleasure in watching her reaction.
She began twiddling her fingers and shuffling from one foot to the other. Her eyes, as blue and as inviting as the Tyrrhenian Sea on hot summer’s day, were wide with uncertainty, her gaze flitting between his boot and his face. He really wished she would stop biting her bottom lip as it caused a tightening in his abdomen he found far too distracting.
Miss Beaufort was definitely an enigma.
She had been correct in her observation, although he would never admit it. As soon as she’d put her hands on his chest, his pulse had quickened, his usual steely reserve melting. Remarkably, those ripples of desire were still flowing beneath the surface, like the constant course of a stream. Perhaps that was why he felt so annoyed, so irritable, yet highly aroused at the same time.
Placing his hand into his boot, he removed the small silver key and almost chuckled when he heard her sigh with relief.
“One can never be too careful with thieves about,” he remarked, thrusting his foot back in his boot.
With purposeful strides, he walked around the desk, unlocked one of the drawers and retrieved the red velvet pouch. Ignoring her gasp, he placed it on top and removed the necklace.
“It’s exquisite.” He held it above the candle; the oval rubies appeared more vibrant from the glow of the flame. “I do not believe I have ever seen anything quite so enchanting.” It was time to start subtly probing for information, and so he added, “I’m just surprised you want to sell it.”
“Is that what James told you? I should have guessed that was his intention.”
“You obviously don’t agree with his decision.”
“The necklace has been in our family for generations. My mother refused to part with it,” she said softly, rubbing her fingers along her collarbone as though remembering the coolness of the metal on her skin. “And I must admit I feel the same way.”
Sebastian swallowed. He had a sudden urge to see it draped around her neck, to see the rich, red stones set against perfect porcelain, to see it cast a warm glow over the curve of her breasts.
Good God!
“I cannot believe James would go against my wishes,” she continued. “I cannot believe he’s agreed to sell it.”