Lover Be Mine (Legendary Lovers 2)

The thought of hurting Sophie in any manner caused a painful twinge to his heart.

Jack found himself watching her as she read. She wore her lustrous brown hair braided and coiled at her nape, the unruly curls momentarily tamed. The jade green traveling dress he’d purchased for her fit her lithe figure and complimented her ivory skin, but regrettably concealed the silky curves of her breasts and her smooth limbs.

The desire to make love to her was still stinging his body. He couldn’t ignore how unbelievably right she felt in his arms.

But as Sophie had said, lust was not love.

That last morning in Paris, she had asked him if he could ever love her, and his answer had been evasive. His cousin Sky

e had asked him a similar question before his departure from England.

What do you feel for Sophie, Jack?

Attempting to catalogue what he felt for Sophie was difficult, though. He only knew for certain that his feelings were becoming more conflicted by the day.

His desire for Sophie remained unfulfilled during their journey. When they stopped overnight, they slept in separate bedchambers without so much as a good-night kiss and certainly no carnal relations. Being unable to touch her as he wanted left Jack raw with hunger. Yet his thoughts of lust and love diminished in importance the closer they came to their destination.

His coach made good time the first two days. On the third day, when they climbed to a plateau, the road followed a meandering river through attractive, verdant countryside. Pretty mill towns and heavily wooded valleys were populated by cottages and farms and the occasional chateau, interspersed with grassy cattle pastures and sparkling mountain lakes. The Jura mountains in southeastern France were gentle compared to the Alps, but the pace of their progress necessarily slowed as the carriage horses negotiated frequent ascents and descents.

Late that afternoon, they crested a rise and caught a view of a large citadel perched atop a fir-clad ridge in the distance. Complete with turrets, the palace gleamed rose and gold in the rays of the sinking sun, but dusk had nearly fallen by the time they reached the imposing front gates.

They were admitted by the gatekeeper without question. Within the well-tended grounds, they proceeded along an immaculate graveled drive, passing flowering gardens adorned with marble statues and spritely fountains. When the carriage finally came to a halt in the paved courtyard, Jack sat unmoving for a long moment, tension tightening his gut.

He could feel concern in Sophie’s searching gaze, even before he informed her of his plan. “I intend to introduce you as my betrothed to explain your presence here.”

Surprisingly she didn’t argue but merely allowed him to help her from the carriage. As they mounted the wide stone steps, the massive door swung open and they were welcomed by a liveried majordomo.

When they stepped inside, their footsteps echoed on a polished marble floor. The enormous entrance hall was richly embellished with tapestries and sculptures, while the domed ceiling was ornamented with gold leaf. Jack spared a brief glance for his surroundings, until his gaze riveted on the man who stood across the hall, frozen in place.

His hair was as black as Jack’s own, although cut much shorter and sprinkled with gray. His features and height were also similar. But his form was thinner, almost gaunt. In fact, his face was lined with the ravages of illness.

Jack hardened his heart nevertheless. Prince Raoul had enjoyed two dozen more years of life than his mother had and deserved no sympathy.

“Jacques,” the prince murmured in French as he stepped forward, his expression hopeful, even eager.

“The name is Jack,” Jack replied coldly in English.

Prince Raoul’s face fell at the pointed rebuff to his greeting, but he effortlessly switched to heavily accented but impeccable English. “Yes, of course. Welcome to my home, Lord Jack.”

When he glanced expectantly at Sophie, Jack performed the introductions. The prince’s eyebrows rose at the mention of their betrothal, but he didn’t press for details. Instead, he seemed determined to be amiable. “Will you do me the honor of joining me for dinner?”

Willfully clamping down on his rage, Jack refused to say another word in lieu of unleashing a tirade. It was left for Sophie to respond politely to the prince’s invitation. “Yes, thank you, your highness. We will.”

“You must be weary after your long journey. Perhaps you would care to refresh yourselves first?”

“That would be very welcome.”

In response to a quiet order by the prince, a servant showed them upstairs to adjoining bedchambers, which were richly appointed, with silk-flocked wallpaper, velvet upholstery, and Aubusson carpets. Feeling stifled by the heavy decor, Jack flung open the brocade draperies covering the windows and discovered a narrow stone balcony beyond.

Still simmering with taut emotion, Jack stepped through a door into the summer twilight. He could hear the trickling melody of a fountain in the sweet-scented gardens beneath him. Looking past the terraced grounds, he could make out the glimmer of a lake nestled in the forested slopes below.

The lake shone like black satin, while in the dark sky overhead, necklaces of stars were beginning to make an appearance. The serenity of the evening was at great odds with the turmoil roiling inside him, however.

A moment later, Sophie opened her own door and joined him on the balcony. She stood beside him, not speaking, merely lending her calming presence.

“I don’t think I can forgive him,” Jack finally said through gritted teeth.

“I know,” she replied soothingly. “But you have come this far. You may as well see it through. Perhaps you should just truthfully speak your mind to him.”