The Sheik's Son - Page 122

Afterwards she drew lazy circles on his naked back as he kissed her flat belly.

“I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, so long as it’s healthy,” he commented quietly.

Sophie looked at him sharply. “How did you know?”

“I know your body, Sophie. You have become softer and fuller recently.”

Sophie smiled, placing her hand on her belly. “I don’t care either. But I do like the name Amelie or Elise….”

“Or Max?” he said.

“Or Pauline?” she said.

“Or Henri?”

“Or—” Before she could finish, he rolled her underneath him, pinning her in place while she laughed.

Later, as the sun was setting, Sebastian and Sophie went on deck to admire the colors that flooded the sky. It was a ruby pink tinged with saffron yellow, and Sophie clutched her shawl around her as she closed her eyes.

She felt her husband’s arms around her as he held her tightly to his chest.

“Don’t worry, Sophie. We’ll come back to France when everything has settled,” he told her, kissing her temple.

“I’m not worried. I’m exactly where I want to be,” she whispered and kissed him back, their fingers entwining over her belly as the sun continued its descent into the horiz

on, leaving only the blue waters behind.

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The candle lights flickered low and the music began. It was a beautiful piece by George Frederick Handel, a Trio Sonata in B Minor. Katharine listened to the music and closed her eyes. The violin, flute, and continuo were in perfect sync with each other as the music moved and flowed through the room. She stood with James, sipping a glass of champagne, while she watched her guests mingle. A hundred people filled the room, and dozens more stood or danced in clusters and groups around the food tables. Champagne was in abundance. She had lost count how many people she had greeted and smiled at. She suddenly felt lightheaded as the champagne drizzled into her veins. The trio sonata continued playing, and its beauty was mesmerizing.

When she opened her eyes and looked across the room, she glimpsed him across the room and knew she had drank too much. He had walked behind a group of people standing at the far end of the room. Kat almost dropped her flute of champagne.

"Darling, what is it?" James whispered as he felt her lean into him.

"The heat. It's the heat," she answered. "I need some fresh air."

"Of course. I'll accompany you," he said.

"No, you should stay. I'll only be a few minutes,” she replied. She moved her dress hem aside as she moved gracefully through the room.

Kat placed her champagne glass on a table and walked outside the ballroom and into the night. A few couples were outside talking and they greeted her. Her brother Charles and his wife, Sarah, smiled at her, and Charles kissed her in greeting.

She smiled to them and then turned away. She was going mad! She brushed a hand across her forehead and flushed cheeks.

Katharine looked out over the gardens that she knew so well. Earlier that day, she had stood next to James, thinking of the stallion and wanting to give him a proud name. She had always loved Greek mythology so she had thought of Ares, the god of war. But just then, she had seen him. Either that or her imagination was going wild.

She saw at first the figure behind the large group of people at the far end of the ballroom. He was dressed in a deep blue coat and waistcoat with snug knee-length breeches, low-heeled shoes and silk stockings. His hair was unpowdered but clubbed with a black ribbon, and he appeared to be clean-shaven. He was well-dressed, and the cut of the coat showed off his muscled back and the width of his shoulders.

The breeches did well to expose his muscled legs, and his dark shoes had no buckles on them.

But as much as tried to fit into this world, he did not. He was like a wild tiger in a small cage. He belonged in a hot world of sand and sandalwood incense not in a ballroom filled with dandies and champagne.

He belonged in a world of sandstorms and harems, where the world smelled of incense and jasmine.

Kat shook her head. This was madness. This was what happened to women who had no clean grasp on reality. She wandered into a farthest part of the gardens, where the willow trees had been planted long ago. The birch and ash trees grew there as well.

Tags: Nicola Italia Historical
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