The Sheik's Son

“He is in the other room and you are most certainly welcome to speak to him. But he will not be swayed, and more importantly, neither will I,” Sophie retorted.

“See? This is what happens when women have ideas beyond their sex. You seem to be quite a handful, my dear,” Monsieur Gerard said. “All sorts of nonsense will start spinning around in that lovely head of yours.”

“I thank you for the compliment, but lovely or not I will marry for love and someone of an equal—or not at all. And no one will force me otherwise.” Sophie tilted her head up.

Monsieur Gerard shook his head. “Quite the handful,” he muttered.

Sophie moved away from him and his cronies and went near the fire to warm her hands and calm her passionate nature. These men were no different than her grandmother in their thoughts and beliefs, but to have people publicly tell her that she would marry whomever her father deemed appropriate with no thought to her own feelings seemed absurd.

She felt it was an insult to assume women were merely chattel to be used for birthing children and no thoughts or feelings resided inside them.

“I understand there are great pleasures to be found in marriage,” Sebastian whispered.

Sophie whirled around to find Sebastian standing beside her. His intimate use of the word “pleasures” and his insinuation was best ignored. “Monsieur Fairfax is like a bad penny.”

Sebastian took the reference in stride and smiled. He looked very handsome in a dark merlot-colored coat and brown breeches with a white waistcoat. The colors brought out his handsome features and the wool fabrics set him apart from the dandies in the room dressed in silks and pastels.

His dark brown hair was clubbed and he wore no powder or beauty mark on his face. In fact, she could no more imagine Sebastian with a beauty mark than she could her father. He was a masculine man.

“While you, Mademoiselle Sophie, are certainly aware that the green of your dress brings out your eyes and complements your hair very well,” he said, speaking lowly.

Sophie blushed under the secretary’s scrutiny and tried to bite her tongue with a tart reply. She chose to respond cordially. “You look well also.”

Sebastian did laugh this time at her compliment, which was almost not one.

“Thank you. I shall treasure those four words until I am in my grave.” He placed a hand upon his heart.

“You’re a strange one,” she returned.

“And you, Mademoiselle Sophie, argue like a parliamentarian with men older than your father and look like a painting of Venus,” he said quietly.

Sophie looked into Sebastian’s eyes and did not see a hint of mocking. She felt herself looking too long at him and turned her head.

Sebastian watched the firelight play across her features. She had a perfect oval face with hazel eyes and lush lips. But the auburn hair was something to behold and he wanted very badly to pull out her combs and sift his fingers through the silk tresses.

“These men don’t understand,” she explained, nodding in their direction.

“Yes. I heard the later part of your conversation,” he admitted.

“They expect women to marry whomever is chosen for them with no thought of love or affection,” Sophie complained.

“Love is a rare thing. Most marriages are arranged for convenience, money or family connections,” Sebastian told her.

“Yes. But things are changing and should change. And women should have a say. We aren’t chattel.”

“Change takes time.”

“Time!” Sophie scoffed.

“Yes, time. And there is a great pleasure to be found in marriage and with children. Love, or at least affection, can sometimes follow.”

“Pleasure for men, you mean,” Sophie returned.

“For women as well.”

“For women as well? Giving birth, which can last a day or more and they are in excruciating pain the entire time? Oftentimes the woman dies and the child is raised without a mother.”

“Not all women, Sophie.”