The Sheik's Son

“I find most music loud and incites headaches,” Eugenie said.

“There is another concert in a week, mademoiselle,” Dorset replied. “I would be honored if you were my guest.”

Sophie was more than happy to agree and smiled.

“Let’s make an evening of it,” Sebastian chimed in.

Sebastian didn’t want Dorset alone with Sophie, knowing his reputation. Sophie inwardly groaned at the thought of yet another evening spent with the arrogant secretary.

Plates of cold turkey, chicken and roasted rabbit were passed along by servants and Etienne watched Leila take her share. When he served himself he felt her slim hand move along his thigh, higher this time.

“You’re playing with fire,” he whispered quietly in her ear.

“I already burn,” she whispered back, her blue eyes glittering in the candlelight.

“Delicious chicken,” Eugenie proclaimed, taking bite after bite.

“Yes. I inherited the chef from the previous ambassador and she’s a wonder.” Dorset sipped his wine.

“Oh, excuse me.” Etienne deliberately swiped his fork onto the floor. When he bent to retrieve it his hand slid up Leila’s silk-encased calf and knee before stopping. He could tell she was aroused and he smiled as he wiped his fork on his napkin and settled back into his chair. If she was going to tease him right underneath her brother’s eyes, then he would tease her right back.

Fruit and custard was the final course, and coffee was served in large silver pots.

“After dinner we’ll retire to the large salon. There’s a piano forte, in case any of the ladies would like to play,” Dorset proclaimed.

Leila agreed to play for them and a small group of chairs were placed near the piano as Leila set about picking her music.

“Fairfax, why don’t you show the ladies the gallery upstairs? Some absolutely stunning paintings,” Dorset said.

“I’ll decline if you don’t mind, monsieur. That dinner was a quite a feast,” Eugenie claimed. “I think I’ll rest a bit.”

“I’ll keep my grandmother company,” Sophie said.

“Nonsense, my dear,” Eugenie exclaimed. “I know you enjoy art.”

“Oh come, mademoiselle. It is only one flight of stairs. Surely that won’t fatigue you,” Sebastian teased. He enjoyed watching Sophie struggle to retain her composure.

Sophie clenched her teeth as she watched her grandmother settle onto the couch while Leila looked for the perfect sheet of music to perform. Dorset and Etienne were helping themselves to brandy and no one seemed at all concerned about the couple disappearing.

“Certainly,” she said with a smile, following Sebastian out into the hallway and closing the door behind them.

Once they were alone, Sophie’s smile disappeared.

“Alone again,” he said, reminding her of when she had said she would never be caught in such a situation again.

“If you would behave as a gentleman should, I would have no fear of being alone with you,” came Sophie’s tart reply.

“I don’t know you well at all, Mademoiselle Sophie. But I doubt you fear much and I absolutely am certain you don’t fear me,” Sebastian returned.

Sophie eyed the handsome man before her. He was wrong. She did fear him. She feared what she felt in his arms and she didn’t like losing herself when she was with him. He clouded her thoughts and it was upsetting to her.

“It is upstairs,” he directed following her up the great curving staircase and admiring the view as he went. The second floor was dominated by a long hallway filled with paintings on both sides of the walls.

Though the hallway was decorated with artworks of all shapes and sizes, Sebastian directed her further, saying, “First door on your right.”

She entered a large room and saw a fireplace burning low inside the dark room, which was dominated by a large four-poster bed.

“’No’ means nothing at all to you, does it?” Sophie turned to him, outraged at his suggestion. “Should I pull up my skirts and we have at it?”