Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

Roxanne said, “There won’t be a moon, so that is good. You’re right, what could possibly go wrong?”

There was a storm coming, Julian could taste it, but he wasn’t going to call off this last smuggling run. A storm kept curious men in their homes, huddled near a fire. It was past midnight, the wind was high, black clouds scuttled across a black sky, obscuring the stars. Sophie strode like a boy at his side, wearing a black cloak over a dark gown with no petticoats beneath. She was not, however, wearing a mask.

Julian, too, was wearing a thick black cloak. He took her hand, guiding her toward the cave.

“Don’t worry about Roxanne, Devlin will take care of her. They will meet the boat on the beach and direct my men onto the river route to the cave. You and I will wait here for them and direct the unloading.”

He looked at her shadowed face. “You are grinning, I know it, Sophie. If there were any moon at all, I would see your face glowing with excitement.”

“Do you know me so well, Julian?”

“Well enough. You have been my constant companion for—how long is it now, Sophie?”

“All my life?”

“I could have fathered you.”

“You were that precocious?”

“Perhaps not quite, but still—”

She dropped his hand and stopped. When he turned to her, Sophie sent her fist into his belly. He whooshed out a breath, grabbed for her, but she danced out of his reach.

“No, don’t you touch me, you baboon. If you ever again mention the years between us—the great number of years that separate us—I will hurt you so badly you will be on your knees, moaning. Do you understand me?”

He stared at her, and Sophie knew he was staring, even though she could barely see the outline of his face.

“Did you really tell Devlin you wouldn’t bed a woman until you were married to her?”

If he was surprised she knew this, he didn’t let on. He supposed he was getting quite used to there being no secrets between Roxanne and Sophie, as there were no secrets between him and Devlin. “Yes, I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because a lady, a virgin lady, deserves more than a clandestine mauling.”

“Well, that is something. On the other hand, you wouldn’t conduct this mauling in public.”

“Don’t you make sport of me, Sophie Wilkie, you know very well what I mean.”

“Why do you call it mauling? When you kiss me, I never think of mauling.”

“Very well, an unwed lady doesn’t wish to have her purity in question before she is wed.”

“Purity,” she said slowly, savoring the word. “Is that why a lady shouldn’t seduce a gentleman before marriage? She doesn’t wish to soil his purity?”

He had the insane desire to laugh, to kiss her silly, and perhaps teach her a little bit about lovemaking, but the wind was whipping about outside, it was cold, and his men would be coming soon with the smuggled goods.

“Come,” he said.

She began walking toward the cave, aware he was right behind her. She could hear his steady, calm breathing. She intended to seduce him tonight, in the cave, not that she knew the first thing about seducing a man, but she was her mother’s daughter, with her rich and devious imagination. Yes, she would spread her black cloak on the sandy ground. Once all the goods had been stored, all his men had rowed back down the river to the channel and back to the ship, Devlin and Roxanne were safely away back to Ravenscar, she would jump on him, and—hmmm. She was so excited she wanted to shout with it.

They heard the loud report of a gun and froze. Julian cursed, shoved her down, whispered against her mouth even as he held her down, “Don’t move.”

He left her on her knees, her head down, her black cloak wrapped around her, her heart pounding hard, suddenly scared to her toes. The adventure had turned into something else.

Julian made his way, silent as a shadow, weaving in and out of the thick maple and oak trees, to the river’s edge. They were only twenty yards from the mouth of the cave. He stood in the shadows, staring downriver.

Another shot, then half a dozen more. He heard a man shout something, then another several shots.