The Infamous Rogue Part 2

Sophia was quick to detect their approach. She narrowed her dark brown eyes on James, burning with warning. He dismissed her fiery stare and advanced with confidence.

"Good evening, my lord," said William.

The earl returned the felicitation with a respectful "Good evening, Mr. Hawkins."

"I'd like to introduce my brother, Captain James Hawkins."

James was careful to keep his expression bland. "Lord Baine."

James had arrived late to the bal , so he had missed meeting the earl in the receiving line. He hadn't even glanced at the lofty lord during the course of the evening, but now knowing he was Sophia's intended groom, James regarded their host with the scrutiny of a pirate a.s.sessing his next target.

The fop was young. Thirty, perhaps. Fair, with pale green eyes. He had a polished manner about him, a refined speech. Ghastly taste in wardrobe, though. The man's brilliant green coat was a freakish blight.

James struggled to keep his composure. Sophia had picked a dandy to be her mate: a posh and sophisticated and n.o.ble dandy-everything her former lover was not!

"Might I introduce my sister, Lady Rosamond," said the earl.

The Hawkins brothers bowed.

The pet.i.te woman with honey gold locks curtsied. She eyed James with explicit interest.

He might have been disarmed, even disgusted, by the overt gesture, but the heat stemming from Sophia attracted his senses, and distracted him from all other reflections.

The earl gestured toward the older matron. "And this is Lady Lucas." He then turned toward Sophia. "And her charge...Miss Dawson."

So that was how Sophia had seeped into the social folds of the aristocracy: she had hired a chaperone. However, James quickly dismissed the revelation from his mind.

The colors in the room blurred together as he watched the way the earl looked at Sophia. It was a besotted look...a lover's look.

A throbbing pressure mounted in his skul . James glared at Sophia, searched her fine features for the truth: Had she already bedded the earl?

Sophia's eyes darkened. The rich brown pigment pooled with fury and deepened to a near shade of black. She had guessed his thoughts...and she appeared piqued at the crude suggestion.

The throbbing pinch in his head weakened. The colors in the room brightened with distinction. She had not bedded the earl. James was familiar with that vexing look: the sort she offered whenever he had made a terrible blunder.

Lady Lucas glanced from her ward to the captain. "Captain Hawkins."

With reluctance, he s.h.i.+fted his gaze to the matriarch. "Yes, my lady?"

"Have you served in the Royal Navy for long?"

James curled his fingers into his palms. "I have never served in the Royal Navy."

"Then are you not too ambitious in your choice of rank, sir?"

James glanced at Sophia. She was stiff with apprehension. He was hard, too. Hard with indignation, for he had to confront yet another pompous female.

"I captain my own vessel, Lady Lucas."

"I see," she said with disdain.

It was like eating sand, the ignominious repartee. But James burned with restless energy to be alone with Sophia. And to get to her, he would engage the condescending company.

"It must be so dangerous at sea," said the earl's sister in a polished yet flirty manner.

"Have you many adventures to speak of, Captain Hawkins?"

"Very few, I'm afraid." He swallowed the loathing he felt for her disingenuous regard.

"But my s.h.i.+p is well armed, Lady Rosamond. No one gets the better of me."

Not even you, Sophia.

The quick, dark glance James leveled at Sophia did not go unnoticed by his brother.

"I must congratulate you on a successful evening, Lord Baine," said William, steering the conversation toward steadier ground.

James swallowed the distaste in his mouth before he formed his next words with tedious resolve. "Yes, the bal room is a magnificent spectacle."

"Thank you, Captain," returned the earl.

"Lord Baine is accustomed to finery."

The harridan was quick to praise one man and slur the other. But James did not sour under the patronizing implication that he, a barbarian, was unfamiliar with good taste. He was much too engrossed with the tempting proximity of Sophia to submit to the vicious taunt.

James lifted his hand. "Might I have the next dance, Miss Dawson?"

Sophia's eyes glowed. He wondered she had curbed her tongue thus far. The spirited wench wasn't one to hold back her opinion-or her knife.

But she had to keep her true nature a secret from the ton. She had to maintain an amiable smile. Not too broad, though. Perish the thought she should appear vulgar in public. And she had to keep her brows low. Heaven forbid she should raise them and express a fiery opinion or too intelligent a thought. She had to keep her hands firmly together, too. An air of modesty was of the utmost importance. Imagine the outcry from the other guests if she reached for her blade and carved out his throat-which he suspected she very much desired to do.

He shuddered with disgust. Was this what she wanted from life? Was this why she had forsaken him seven years ago? To enter society and let a band of b.l.o.o.d.y n.o.bs steal her spirit?

"I'm afraid Miss Dawson is feeling unwel and cannot dance." Lady Lucas fluttered her fan. "She needed air not a moment ago."

Air, indeed. She needed to slice his gullet.

"Yes, the room is stuffy," said Rosamond. "I must follow your example, Miss Dawson, and take a turn in the garden."

The young woman took a shaky step forward-and wobbled.

Quickly Lord Baine sidestepped Lady Lucas as Sophia and William reached for Lady Rosamond, but it was too late to stop her tumble. She seemed to sink into James's arms.

He swiftly captured her wrist and steadied her before she dropped to the ground.

"Mondie, my dear." The earl patted her cheek. "Are you all right?"

The young woman pressed her palm over her bust. "I was a bit dizzy, but I'm fine now...Thank you, Captain Hawkins."

"Yes, my sincere thanks, Captain Hawkins," said the earl.

James offered a curt nod before he placed his hands behind his back, uncomfortable with al the accolades for such a simple gesture.

The matron slipped her arm around the girl's spine. "Come and sit, my lady."

"Thank you, Lady Lucas...Max, we must thank the captain in a proper manner."

"Yes, of course. Please accept our invitation to a country house party, Captain Hawkins."

James refrained from snorting. He would sooner hang than mix with such tiresome, frivolous company. "Thank you, however-"

"I insist," said the earl. "You must allow me to express my grat.i.tude in a fitting way; you must accept my hospitality. Mondie and I are hosting an intimate country house party next week. There will be a few other guests, including Lady Lucas and her charge."

James was about to decline the invitation again...but one look into Sophia's murderous eyes told him she didn't want him to attend the party.

James offered his hand. "I'd be honored to accept the invitation, Lord Baine."

"Splendid!"

Once more James fixed his eyes on Sophia. "I trust the garden air did you good, Miss Dawson." He admired the rose pigment in her cheeks. She had blushed so rarely in the past: the blooming color aroused him. "You seem well recovered. Shall we dance?"

He didn't wait for her refusal, but took her by the elbow and steered her onto the dance floor.

The harridan gasped.

William groaned quietly.

James dismissed their outrage. He slipped his arm around the arc of Sophia's spine and grasped her hand. Every part of him pulsed with vigor to feel her plump and seductive curves in his arms once more.

"Do you want to hang from the gallows...Black Hawk?"

She had whispered the last part, indicating her intent to out him if he outed her. She had changed. She would never have threatened him in the past with betrayal. Her own father had been a pirate.

But she wasn't the same Sophia anymore, was she? She wanted to climb the social ladder. She wanted to be a countess. Why? She had enough riches to live like a queen.

What did she want with pomp and presentation, the sn.o.bbery of the haute ton?

"Do you really want me to hang?" He inhaled the tangy scent of her perfume: a sensuous citrus fragrance that reminded him of the island-and their heated affair. "A man tends to confess his sins when facing death. Would you like me to confess my sins, Sophia?" He dropped his lips to caress her ear with his breath. "Would you like me to reveal my transgressions...with you?"

She shuddered. "You belong in h.e.l.l, Black Hawk."

In subtle strokes, he rubbed the low k.n.o.b at her spine. "With you at my side, sweetheart."

She let out a loud huff of air through her nose. "Why are you coming to the house party?"

"I couldn't refuse the invitation. It would have appeared rude."

"And you have to refrain from being rude? To protect your sister's reputation?"

"That's right."

It sounded reasonable; there was no cause for her to doubt him. However, she did. He could tel by the way she narrowed her warm brown eyes on him. That fiery look meant she didn't trust a single word he offered...and she had good reason to be wary. In truth, he wasn't sure what he was going to do at the house party. But he wasn't about to let the witch dismiss him from her life again, that much was for sure.

The couple mixed with the other partners and moved to the swell of the music, but the stiff steps seemed so orchestrated, so restrained...unlike the slow and undulating movements of the erotic mento that they had danced on the island.

James searched his memory for the appropriate ballroom dance steps. Sophia twirled alongside him with more grace, yet little concentration.

The moment distracting, they b.u.mped into another couple. After expressing an apology, the two twirled onward.

"We're making a spectacle of ourselves," she hissed.

"Shall we withdraw into the garden, then?"

He started to direct their dance steps toward the door.

She squeezed his hand. "If you drag me from the room, I will run you through with my knife."

He chuckled. She had the blood of her mother: a Portuguese wench with a fiery temper. Sophia possessed the ruthless heart of her pirate father, too.

"Does the earl know he's courting a viper?"

"I'm not a viper."

He dropped his gaze to the deep swell of her bountiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He imagined the short blade tucked between the mounds of flesh, suffocating. He envied the blade. "You sliced my chin."

Little b.u.mps of desire spread across the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He quirked a smile in carnal satisfaction, pleased to observe her own growing hunger. She was not so immune to him as she wanted him to believe.

Her voice was low, smoldering, "I only nicked it."

He inhaled a sharp breath at the sound of her husky voice. A pool of thoughts gathered in his head, sultry words whispered in pa.s.sion: Touch me, James...deeper.

He dismissed the erotic dream with a brisk shake. "Missed my gullet, did you?"

She groused, "Unfortunately, yes."

Her lips whirred. He sensed the vibration, fixed his eyes on the full curve of her luscious mouth. So d.a.m.n kissable. He had tasted her in the garden tonight. His every nerve pulsed with the memory...and one heated memory stirred others to potent life.

Soon his flesh burned with the imprints of her lips. He had to bite back a groan as he remembered the cursed way she had brought him to come with her sinful mouth all those years ago.

He shuddered and missed a step.

She recovered her footing and glowered at him. "Are you foxed?"

"I should be."

He certainly intended to be before the night was over.

"Who does the earl think you are, Sophia?"