A Red Hot Valentine's Day Read online

  “Well then, Anne. I shall walk, seeing I have to make myself presentable for arrival.”

  “Indeed, Alistair. Drive on, Jenks.” The carriage door shut and then rolled past them, followed by two more, which held two women for Lord Quinton to choose from as brides.

  He turned back to the miss before him. “I am Alistair Taylor the third son of the marquis of Lanktor. And who may this little pup be?”

  Chapter 2

  Should she answer such a man? He didn’t even flinch at the mention of being undone. Simply pushed his peg inside and buttoned up as though his prick sticking out happened all the time.

  To consider not answering was silliness of course. She needed to answer. Besides, he only asked about Bo. He stood there with those beautiful brown eyes and stared at her. Her knees weakened. Now answer him, Sophia. “Indeed. He is Bo, sir.”

  “Be a good pup now, Bo. No more chasing carriages.” The tall brown-haired man bent and scratched Bo behind the ears.

  Bo squirmed and wiggled at the caress. Sophia shifted her stance. In her mind his fingers wiggled and tickled her skin as she squirmed against him. My God, Sophia! Why are you thinking such thoughts? Quinton only left here a few hours ago.

  Alistair smiled and dimples puckered the flesh of his cheeks. A stunning man; all posh elegance and calm. He appeared to not have a care in the world. A capital man of rank.

  Who was she to judge him; a low member of blood, that is what she was. She had never had a coming out in town. Her oldest sister was the only one of her family her pa could give a dowry to.

  If it had not been for George, she would in all likelihood be living on the side building of her father’s estate with her next oldest sister. Sigh. In all respects she was very lucky to have this home; George’s brother had not wished her to move and had simply signed the property over to her father, stating her residence or her offspring on the property was a stipulation in the sale.

  “So, ma’am, Elm Place is on the other side of the hedge?” He motioned with his hand in the direction of the house.

  “Oh, indeed, sir.” Her gaze went unseeing to the opening in the hedge that led to Elm Place.

  Why was this man here? Why had Quinton not said anything to her about his visitors? The image of the woman in fancy dress peering out of the carriage flooded her thoughts. Who was the beautiful woman headed to Quinton’s door?

  Sophia’s heart raced in her breast and the hair on the back of her neck stood. Something was amiss. Whoever that woman was, Sophia didn’t want her to meet Quinton.

  She swallowed hard and her stomach flipped. Her gaze still fixed on the opening in the hedge.

  Quinton had omitted the information that this woman and his other guests arrived today. Nothing good ever came from finding out such information. He was hiding something from her and her soul screamed the information was not in her favor.

  “I am not much for fresh country air…walks and such. Is there a shortcut to the house, ma’am?”

  She turned her gaze back to him. His brown eyes searched her face as if he looked for some deep meaning to her hesitation. Were her emotions, her thoughts, clear to him simply by his gaze?

  Shake yourself out of this pondery, Sophia. He asked you a question. Walks…Country air…Shortcut…

  “Oh…” She could show him how to get to Elm Place and maybe get a better idea what was afoot with Quinton while they strolled. “Indeed, sir. Let me fetch my warmer cloak, and I will show you.”

  She ran into her cottage and grabbed her deep green wool cloak from the hook by the entrance. She glanced in the mirror that hung by the door. She frowned as she beheld her unruly hair. Strands stuck out at all angles in a mass of curls she never could tame. Her hand rose as if to straighten them, and she stopped half way to her hair.

  Quinton would be furious to see her in such a state. He hated when she appeared as she worked as a peasant.

  A devious grin turned her lips and her eyes brightened back at her. She wouldn’t remove a thing…not even the mud on her cheek. He should have told her company was arriving. The logical reason for him excluding that knowledge eluded her.

  She walked back out the door with her chin held a little higher. Shutting Bo into the gate, she strode toward the tall, handsome man. His sable eyes sparked with mirth as his gaze slid over her body in a lick of desire, then settled on her hands clutching her shawl closed.

  Goosepins raced her skin and her eyes widened. Handsome, devilishly so. She certainly could use a good flirtation to brighten her spirits. Goodness, Sophia. You are a taken woman. This man should not turn your head. Your fearful feelings about Quinton are simply that. Fears.

  She strolled up beside Alistair. “Follow me, sir. I shall take you to Elm Place.”

  “Very well.” His lips twitched up as if he had gotten exactly what he had wanted; her to escort him to Quinton. Well he would have a shock to find out she was taken by the very man they went to see.

  They walked along in silence. A small break in the large laurel hedge emerged, and they turned into a grassy field. “We will cut across the field here and then into the covered lane, which leads to the house.”

  “Very well, ma’am.”

  He walked so close to her. Too close. Silliness, Sophia; he is a proper distance from you. His hands are clasped behind his back. He is not trying to touch you in any form.

  Simply his nearness caressed her. Calmed her. Made her feel as if she wished to bury her head on his shoulder and tell him all her struggles, her worries, her fears about being who she was.

  The sensation was very different from the one that Quinton inspired. Quinton was all futter and pleasure. She never really walked with Quinton as such.

  Even if Alistair bluntly told her he never walked in the country, somehow this felt natural. The wind blew across the field as they walked, and the crisp fall air reddened her skin and made her ears hurt.

  She stared at Alistair, then back at the grass before them. The green grass would soon fade to brown and the crisp sunny days turn to rain. A blast of chill air blew and a chill raced down her spine.

  She glanced at his face; he gazed about him, not really fidgeting but not calm. Well she should start asking questions if she wanted any kind of information from him about his stay.

  “What brings you to Elm Place, sir?”

  He laughed a deep joyful sound. Her lips curled up and her belly tightened with suppressed laughter. His laugh alone lightened her.

  “Anne, the woman in the carriage is one of my um…” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, then back to the ground before him.

  “Your paramour?”

  “Indeed. In a sense she is. Though we have no romantic involvement…simply pleasure…friendship.”

  Anne was one of his paramours…. How many did one man need? Sophia’s brow pinched and she scowled as she glanced at him. A handsome devil, indeed. One who was worse than a dog sniffing for scraps.

  “Anne said I needed a few days in the country. I was thinking with my peg at the moment and said yes before I realized what exactly she suggested.”

  They turned the corner onto the long vine-covered lane that led to the side of the house, and Sophia shivered. The sun no longer warmed her skin, and her wool shawl was inadequate in the damp of the covered lane.

  “What was she suggesting, sir?”

  He stopped, and she stopped and turned toward him. “Everything well, sir?”

  She stared unable to move as his fingers trailed up the edges of her wrap to her fists clutching her cloak together at her breast. “No not well at all actually.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat and her eyes widened. What was he about? She should knock his hands away, she should—

  He grasped her hands and repositioned them higher up on the cloth by her neck, then pulled her wrap tight by fisting her hands. “If you keep it held closely to your neck, less heat can escape. All shall be better now.” His hands brushed against her breast as they retreated.


  A purposeful brush or on accident she did not know. Her entire body trembled as his musky scent filled her nostrils. How strange a man who does not like the country or a walk in the woods wears a scent that smells like them?

  She glanced down at her hands clutched in the wool of her cloak. He watched out for her welfare. The sincerity in the kind gesture knocked her back a step in thought, and her body trembled. “Pardon, sir?” spilled from her mouth before she realized she’d spoken aloud.

  A kind smile curved his lips and he winked at her. “You should stop your quivering with your cloak tightly closed like that.”

  Would she? No. Her legs shook of an entirely different accord: him.

  “Anne is here on business. She thought I could protect her while she was here and I could take deep breaths of refreshing air while she did business. Problem is…the smell of livestock is enough to make me cast my accounts.”

  A laugh burst past her lips before she could recover it. “You jest, sir.”

  “Oh, I kid you not.” He turned back toward the house and stepped forward causing her to step with him to continue the conversation.

  “I shall have to tell you all of the paths to avoid on your tortuous walks through the countryside.”

  “You shall show me yourself.” His shoulder and arm brushed into hers as they continued to walk.

  “Well I—” she bit her lower lip, then looked down at her feet. What was wrong with her? Stop reacting to this man this way. She certainly could not see him again after this. She needed to be honest with him about where her sights were cast. “I would like that, but I fear I have given my favors to another man. He would object, sir.”

  “Come now. You were home alone. What man would leave you on a lovely day like today? Though I certainly respect your telling me. As you are aware of my avoidance of ‘fowl’ scents, I still would enjoy your escort around the area.”

  She swallowed hard and they reached the end of the covered walk and stepped back out into the glorious sun.

  “Bloody.” His hand rose and he shielded his eye from the sun. “Should have grabbed my hat from the carriage.”

  “No worries, sir. The sun will be in your eye but a moment.”

  They strode three steps and the sun dipped beyond the eave of the house. “This is Elm Place, sir. And Lord Quinton and the rest of your party shall be in the parlor, I imagine. The front door is just around corner.”

  “Very well, ma’am. I shall call on you tomorrow at noontime, and we can take a stroll before feasting in one of Lord Quinton’s covered gardens. The air is too chill to risk your taking a chill by dining in the damp air.” He leaned toward her as if to kiss her. Her heart jumped into her throat. No, don’t let him! Her eyes widened and her tongue slid out and wet her lips. He hovered a breath’s whisper from her face. Their eyes locked.

  “I wish you a fine evening, ma’am. Be ready at noontime tomorrow.” He pulled back and stepped away from her.

  She swallowed hard and stared at him as he walked past her and around the corner of the house. Sigh. Tomorrow. Noontime.

  She turned and stepped back into the damp of the covered walk. She had only come here once or twice since Quinton and she began. Quinton was more comfortable with her at her place, or in the wilderness, because of his son.

  Oh no! Quinton had asked her to picnic tomorrow. She bit her lip. Then again he would most likely cancel, as he had guests. Something always seemed to come up….

  Quinton stared out the window of the parlor and watched as Sophia walked up the covered path with a tall broad-shouldered man. His heart sped in his chest and his throat tightened. Was he the man Miss Cathcort had mentioned to him? Her gentleman friend?

  The man stopped, and Sophia turned toward him. He wrapped his fingers about her fingers clutching her cloak.

  How dare he touch her? Quinton’s teeth clenched.

  Sophia leaned toward him, and her neck arched seductively.

  Damn her. What was she doing?

  The man unwrapped her fingers and moved them up higher on her cloak.

  “You might want to set the glass down if you are going to clench your fingers so tightly, Lord Quinton. Any tighter and you shall surely cut your hand,” came a feminine voice.

  Quinton glanced down at the glass of scotch he held in his hand; his knuckles paper thin, white. He closed his eyes.

  Miss Cathcort stepped up beside him. She glanced over his shoulder and watched as Sophia and her friend stopped at the edge of the house.

  “She is a handsome woman, Lord Quinton. Are you involved with her? Your mistress, perhaps?”

  He turned toward Miss Cathcort. He needed to tell her the truth. He worked his jaw, to relax the muscles he had held taut, then blew out a tense breath.

  Sophia turned and headed back toward the covered walk. The sunlight caught her hair and glistened in the soft curls she pinned behind her ears. She was not his mistress. She was so much more to him. Yet he had difficulty letting her meet Jake. A woman who had children of her own is what he wanted for his son. Siblings his son’s own age and a woman who knew how to be a mother.

  “No, Miss Cathcort. She is not my paramour. Rather someone I had considered to be my lady.”

  “Oh well, well. So my ladies have blood competition.”

  Quinton swallowed hard. “No, Miss Cathcort. She does not fit quite what I desire for Lady of Elm Place. Though she has touched my mind and spirit.”

  “Very powerful emotions, Lord Quinton. Something I am sure you are considering, even if she does not meet your social needs.”

  Sophia turned out of sight, and Quinton closed his eyes and savored the memory for one simple tick of the clock. He would give these women a fair chance. Sophia would always be next door waiting for him if things didn’t work.

  Chapter 3

  The next day…hell and passion collide

  “Bo! Bo! Stop whining.” Sophia grasped her gloves and pulled them on. “Silly dog.”

  Bo jumped up and lightly bit her kid-gloved hand. He shook his head and pulled her toward the door.

  She reached down and grabbed the door handle. Bo let go of her hand and raced out the back of the cottage toward the sun-patch field.

  She hoped Quinton would be out on his morning walk. She needed to ask him why he had not told her about his…company. Her stomach flipped and her insides wobbled. She had not been able to eat since they arrived. Her entire world wobbled on what he would say to her, and her soul was positive things were not good.

  They walked up the hill and toward the estate trails.

  A woman’s giggle floated on the slight crisp breeze. Sophia stopped still. The bathhouse resided only a short way over the hill.

  Sickening curiosity crawled up her spine. She wanted to know what the woman Anne’s features possessed. Did she have large breasts and a slim waist? Were her legs fat and the skin dimpled beneath her petticoats? No. What she saw of Anne was beautiful. Logic would say the rest of her body would be so as well.

  Sigh.

  Sophia lifted her foot and went to step in the direction of the bathhouse. Her knees twitched, but her will stayed firm. Pass on by, Sophia, pass on by.

  Bo continued off in the direction of their normal routine. Indeed, follow Bo. The path to the bathhouse only leads to contorted thoughts and an aching soul. Don’t do it, Sophia.

  Her feet moved and she continued down the slightly worn path toward the pond and the ducks. Bo so loved to torment those ducks.

  A woman’s laugh, followed by a deep chuckle, came from the direction of the bathhouse.

  That chuckle was Alastair’s. The sound warmed her to her toes and she smiled. No, Sophia! Quinton is your suitor; but Quinton also lied. What would it hurt to see what his friends possessed and maybe to hear more about why they are at Elm Place?

  She swallowed and turned in the direction of the bathhouse. Her feet moved light and swift, and she glanced all about, making sure no one saw her approach. She walked into the woods.

  W
hat are you doing, Sophia? Quinton would slap you for this. You would slap yourself. The image of her hand slapping her cheek came to mind, and she held in a giggle and rolled her eyes at herself.

  Bo bounded after her, dashing in and out of trees while sniffing the ground. She came up to the bathhouse, which sat next to the pond. Bo bounded to the water in search of his ducks.

  More giggles came from the bathhouse. “Shush, Anne. I am trying to enjoy this long soak. If you want to play, go find Lord Quinton and have a quick futter.”

  “Alistair, stop being such a limp weed.”

  Sophia held back a giggle. Limp weed? Somehow, she could not fathom Alistair being limp. The word did not fit him.

  “I shall do as I wish, Anne. I want to find that pretty little thing and bed her soundly.”

  Sophia’s hand covered the gasp that threatened to press from her mouth. Oh my! He wanted to futter with her. Goosepins of excitement raced her skin and heat bloomed low in her belly. What would doing the act with Alistair, a man who had no embarrassment about his peg being exposed, be like?

  Though he had simply said pretty little thing. She supposed she was a bit presumptuous to think he referred to her.

  Push the thought from your mind, Sophia. Alistair is not the kind of man who loved. Who offered security. He was the kind of man who had multiple dalliances!

  “Very well, Alistair. If the country miss is what you crave, then have her. You know I don’t need futter simply to futter. I am sure Lord Quinton’s affairs will more than fulfill my needs.”

  “Quinton?” His name pressed past Sophia’s lips and her heart sank. Anne was here to…to do what with Quinton?

  Sophia had no idea.

  Think Sophia. Surely she missed something he said to her. Her mind and her stomach flipped and tumbled. Footsteps fell on the earth behind her. Sophia’s gaze turned to see two additional women at the foot of the trail to the lake and bathhouse.

  Oh no! If she didn’t move, they would see her spying.