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Afternoon Tea Ch. 01

By: inviolate



A story for all those who stand in bookshops and skim romance novels to get to the emotional money shot. Bugger character development, get to the good stuff!

*

Sophie sighed as she watched him through the rain streaked window. She could see Cole was angry even from her seat high above him, looking down on the manor's driveway. Usually fluid movements were stiff and his mare shifted nervously as he flung himself out of the saddle. Cole squatted to lift one of the mare's feet, checking it for a stone and, despite her worry, Sophie squirmed. That arse. Firm, high, perfectly shaped. The book in her lap creaked in sympathy under her squeezing fingers.

"That stupid bitch," she muttered. She hadn't seen him like this for months but had little doubt that his deranged whore of a dead wife was to blame. Bella had been in the eighth month of her "cultural tour" of the Continent when her carriage overturned on an icy Vienna street. Sophie's best friend Marianne, herself on her honeymoon, had bumped into Bella only a few weeks before the accident. Marianne knew how Sophie felt about Cole and she'd done her best to edit out the worst of the debauchery when relaying tales of his wife's exploits in Europe . Sophie had read her friend's letters with a mixture of disgust and incomprehension. Bella had thought two midgets and an Irish Wolfhound were an adequate substitute for Cole?

Since her death, Bella's former intimates and thrown over lovers - legion in number - had been writing to Cole. Ostensibly, they wrote to express their condolences or enquire after her daughter. Some wrote of Bella's courage in embracing London's most seedy elements. Others of her irresistible beauty and winning charm. Yet from every elegantly inked line and curlicue there hissed a thwarted, desperate malice. Even Sophie could admit that Bella had been exceptional. Her arrival in a crowded ballroom was like a rock being tossed into a still pond - her presence would ripple though the crush. Far more telling though, was that which stirred in the wake of the disturbance.

Seeing a groom appear round a corner of the house, she tossed her book aside and rose to hurry downstairs. Sophie had no qualms about Cole being in her private salon on the second floor of Salisbury House, her family's home. Indeed, the servants knew to show him straight there - she was always at home to Cole. But the idea of Bella being in her sanctuary with them - even if it was only as they talked of her – Sophie was annoyed at the mere thought. Whisking past her grandfather's library, she paused just long enough to poke her head through the door. The fourth Marquis of Hertford was snoring in front of a dying fire, a newspaper puddled at his feet. Smiling, she eased back to pull the door closed. Hurtling down the last flight of stairs, she sped into the downstairs drawing room and yanked on the bell.

"My lady?"

When Stevens, the butler, appeared, one frantic hair-patting, dress-righting, breath-steadying minute later, Sophie was seated with some long forgotten needle work. She looked up, trying her best to appear as if she always sat sewing in a room she'd once described to Cole as a worse than a tomb; tombs weren't usually painted salmon pink and hung with dyspeptic looking ancestors.

Crammed with mismatched furniture and usually deathly cold, it was very different from Sophie's own cosy chamber. It had, however, been her grandmother's favourite, a private domain from which she had ruled the local matrons since leaving the opera stage to marry her patron, Sophie's grandfather. Her death two years ago had shocked everyone.

"Stevens, if you could please arrange some tea and gingerbread -" she glanced up as a spray of rain hummed against the windows, "and a towel."

"Already on its way, my lady. Shall I show Lord Rochedale in to you here?" he asked, slowly.

"Yes, thank you." Sophie wasn't quite sure how he managed to raise his eyebrows whilst keeping his face utterly still but then, Stevens had been a butler a very long time.

Sophie was lost in a rather gratifying fantasy involving aged butlers and well-aimed embroidery hoops when Cole strode in, leaving a trail of water behind him. Dragging a smile onto her face when she wanted to howl at the sight of his soaked breeches moulded to his strong thighs, was hard. Handing him the towel instead of begging him to use her tongue was even harder. Stephens would have stayed to wait on the pair but Sophie waved him out; the butler's eyebrows were not raised the entire way. 

"Another letter from one of Bella's "friends"?" she said, pouring two steaming cups of fragrant darjeeling with deft hands. She stared, then winced, at the ferocity with which Cole was scrubbing the towel over his wet face and hair. 

"From whose friends?" he asked, tossing the damp linen onto a nearby chair and accepting the proffered tea, shaking his head at the plate of gingerbread. He didn't drink, just gripped the teacup tightly. Sophie eyed his white knuckles surreptitiously, the sudden image of her favourite doll sans head popping into her mind. Cole had been eight years old to her seven and had found himself explaining, over Sophie's screams, that he hadn't meant to behead the doll exactly, only that if the doll could see behind her, she'd make a much better look out when it came to watching for pirates. Sophie had found her revenge in Cole's bedtime cup of chocolate and a bottle of castor oil. 

"Bella's? Oh… is all well with Bea?" Sophie thought guiltily of the toy rapier she'd recently slipped to Cole's adorable four year old daughter, Beatrice. She'd heard through servants gossip that Bea had taken to leaping out of dark corners, brandishing the wooden sword and shrieking "Rem'ber Stwasbug!" 

"Bea? No, Bea's fine. One of the maids has threatened to leave though, something about being attacked whilst carrying a full chamber pot." 

Unable to help herself, Sophie burst out laughing. "That's awful!" she gasped. 

"Yes," he agreed, without seeming very amused at all. "Fortunately, replacing the maid's dress and giving her some coin for a new Sunday hat seems to have convinced her to stay. Strangely, she was at some pains to tell me that she's never even been to "Stwasbug" by which I assume she meant Strasbourg ." 

"I'll speak with Bea and her nurse," Sophie offered, biting her lip hard. He nodded curtly and lowering his head, took a slow sip of tea. Uneasy at his distant manner, Sophie copied him, peering hard over the cup's rim and accidentally slopping tea down her chin. Grabbing for a napkin, she dabbed at herself, swallowing back a curse. Feeling her face flush crimson - sometimes she hated the porcelain skin which accompanied her red hair - she licked the tea from her lips and flicked an embarrassed glance at Cole.

She was shocked to see him scowling at her, his hot gaze focused on her mouth. Sophie couldn't stop her lips parting in an 'o' of surprise and Cole's head jerked back, his tall frame visibly tensing. Sophie barely restrained a flinch as the fragile porcelain cup in his hands was slammed onto a nearby card table. Damp cloth drew taut across muscular shoulders as he folded his arms. A flush of red stained his cheeks and his lips were pulled down into a hard line, very unlike their habitual half-smile. Sophie was suddenly put in mind of a sketch she'd once seen of a judge in a black cap pronouncing a death sentence on some highwayman.

Good Lord, it's only spilled tea. It was hardly a hanging offence! Although, one might not be too wrong in expecting that a gently born Englishwoman some years out of the schoolroom would be able to operate a teacup efficiently. Is that why he's angry? Maybe he knows about the sword? Does he think that I'm not ladylike enough and a improper example for Bea?

Sophie's breath caught at the thought that Cole might be considering forbidding her to see his daughter. Bea was both the little sister she never had and the daughter she longed for - since her birth, Sophie had spent as much time with her as she was able. But as soon as she thought of it, the idea was dismissed. Cole knew how much Sophie and Bea adored each other and though at times Sophie's love for Cole made her hate him, she knew he could never be so cruel. But then, why was he behaving so rudely? It must be something to do with Bella.

Feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, Sophie looked away, tapping at her cup with a nail before setting it down carefully. Cole watched from beneath heavy brows. Clearing her throat, she smoothed the skirt of her mint green morning dress. Overhead, the rain's unceasing drumming was lightening to an erratic patter and a tense silence was unfurling in its place. Sophie pursued her lips and strolled over to a hideous Tudor writing desk, 'hmm'ing thoughtfully at a tattered copy of Burke's Peerage. The fire yielded a few minutes of nonchalant prodding with a handy poker. A pearl ear bob was loosened then tightened. 

When the gingerbread, a cake that Sophie detested but Cole loved, began to look tempting, she huffed a sigh and turned to face him. He hadn't moved. Sophie blinked as she realised that she'd been wrong; Cole wasn't angry, he was furious. Her heart sank.

Again and again, you bring me your hurts. And for every ounce of Bella's poison I draw from you, I sicken, even as you mend. Oh Cole, why can't you love me? 

A too familiar pain burgeoned beneath her ribs, making her eyes smart and her hands clench. Taking a deep breath, she started, in her best conciliatory tone, "Whatever Bella did in the past -" 

"This has nothing whatsoever to do with Bella," he interrupted. "So just leave her out of this, will you?"

Sophie shook her head, sure she had misheard him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Let me make it clear for you," Cole said, a monstrous insolence turning his words into verbal slaps. "Don't speak of matters regarding which you know absolutely nothing."

With that, Sophie saw red. 

Afternoon Tea Ch. 02



That had done it. Watching her, Cole saw the telltale signs of Sophie's temper as her head flew back and her right foot stomped forward a step. He was glad. Ever since speaking with old Mrs Hammond in the village that morning, his mind had been spinning. Even now, he couldn't believe what he'd heard. Maybe giving into to the rage would help. Maybe drawing breath to shout would rid his chest of the coils that had been twisting tighter and tighter, until now, looking at Sophie's sweet face, it felt like he was suffocating where he stood.

"What in the hell - that's right, I said hell - is the matter with you today? If not Bella, then what?" she snapped. "Why are you being so deuced uncivil to me?" 

Unable to stop himself, he sneered, pain and hurt and rage, all hammering at him in sickening waves. His usual deep drawl was clipped tight as he said, "Please forgive me if I have given offence. I hadn't realised that we were anything more than acquaintances." 

"What do you mean, you know we're friends, I mean, I've always thought of you as my closest friend and I…" she faltered. Her hands rose to her waist, twining over themselves to clutch at delicate wrists. 

"Really." he said. "Well, my dear little friend, please then let me be the first to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials. Which of course are none of my concern. I'm sure you will be very happy with Roger, even though he is a brainless, chinless, snivelling mama's boy!" His voice rising to a shout, Cole fought the urge to leap at Sophie and shake her until… well, he didn't know exactly. 

Until you swear to me that you won't marry Roger. I could never ask you to marry me but not him, Sophie, not bloody Roger! 

Sophie's arms fell to her sides. "What?" 

"What?" Cole parroted, maddened afresh to hear the news of Sophie's engagement spoken aloud. 

She stared. "What are you talking about? I'm not marrying Roger. Do you mean Roger d'Argent? What an idea. He's… well, he's a brainless, chinless, snivelling mama's boy. Although I probably wouldn't put it quite like-"

Cole's scornful ha! had Sophie visibly reining in her temper, before she continued.

"He hasn't even asked me, that is to say, he did ask me once, three years ago -" 

"Bastard!" 

"But," Sophie said, ignoring his interruption, "I said no. And I certainly am not marrying him now. Why the devil would you think such a thing?" 

Cole's lungs flooded with air as he searched her bewildered face. 

"You're not marrying him?" 

"No. I'm not marrying him. Why did you think I was?" she repeated. 

Cole felt dizzy as he described running into Mrs Hammond in the village that morning. The elderly school teacher had been bursting with the news that Lord D'Argent, heir to an estate some 70 miles to the south of Little Wittenham, had been seen in an exclusive London jewellers, barely six days after calling at Salisbury House. If that were not proof enough, Reverend Quincey had recently asked his housekeeper to hunt out his red velvet waistcoat which everyone knew he kept for special occasions. And reading the banns for the Earl of Hertford's only granddaughter would certainly be a special occasion. 

"That's it?" asked Sophie, when he fell silent. He nodded. 

Seeing her hands begin to move ominously in the direction of her hips, he hastily challenged, "If he didn't come to propose, why then was that little weasel here?" 

"He called to tell me about his engagement to a Miss Lydia Edwards, one of this Season's Incomparables, I understand. And Marianne writes that her fortune is fairly incomparable too." Sophie's face had smoothed into a bland expression of blameless innocence. 

Cole grunted, suspicious; he knew her too well to believe that she was telling the whole truth but he was too relieved to push. She wasn't marrying another man and a yell of satisfaction was swelling in his throat. She's still mine. 

Until a sickening thought struck him. Was she upset at Roger's news, is that why she hadn't told him of the visit? The thought that she could be grieving for the loss of that puny excuse for a man was unacceptable. 

"Why didn't you tell me that he had called?" he said. "Is it because you are upset he is to marry someone else? Why did you refuse him when he offered three years ago?" 

Sophie rolled her eyes. "I didn't tell you because I didn't think it would interest you, it certainly didn't interest me." 

"And?" he prompted, when she hesitated. "Why did you refuse him before?" 



Afternoon Tea Ch. 03



Sophie's mind raced as she faced Cole. "Isn't it obvious?" she tossed out, stalling. But he refused to be drawn, merely shaking his head. Sophie noticed with dismay that the colour in his cheeks had begun to fade and knew it wouldn't be long before his logical mind began to apply itself to the mystery of her spinsterhood. 

"I don't quite see why you're so interested in so trifling a matter," she said, affecting a yawn and watching his reaction through lowered lashes. 

"If it's so trifling, why not just tell me?" 

"Perhaps because I barely remember it." 

Which was a lie. She remembered that day vividly. It had happened in this very drawing room. She remembered a fearful suitor standing in front of a window, fumbling his way through a rehearsed speech; family, honour and mutual esteem. Long, pale fingers clutching an unscratched walking stick. Listening hard, trying not to think about how a halo of spring sunshine revealed a thinning patch in fine blonde hair. Or how much she wanted to be breathing in a familiar scent of mingled leather and bay rum soap instead of Roger's flowery cologne. Far from insensible to the compliment that was being paid to her, Sophie had sipped tea and grown more sad with every timid word. 

After Stephens had bowed a confused Roger from the room, Sophie had sat alone in the darkening parlour. When night began to draw in, one of the braver maids tried to creep in to lay a fire in the cold hearth, only to be ordered sharply out. 

It was deep in that shadow-soaked vigil when Sophie had first understood the bittersweet truth. Her soul was not her own but Cole's. And Cole was married. She had wept until dawn. 

A loud snort pulled her from the past. 

"You "barely remember" receiving a proposal of marriage from the eldest son of one of the wealthiest landowners in the county, a man feted by every match-making mama in England and you -" Stopping abruptly, Cole coughed and grabbing up a piece of the neglected gingerbread, stuffed it into his mouth. Chewing hard, he waved one hand airily at her as though she had been the one to stop speaking.

Sophie knew what he had been about to say. Three years ago, she had been very nearly "on the shelf". For a woman of advanced age and only moderate expectations, an offer of marriage from one such as Lord D'Argent should have been considered a miracle. It was nothing she hadn't thought a thousand times since - why was her throat burning to know that now Cole thought it too? 

"I didn't marry Roger because I could not love him," she managed to snarl. Unable to meet his eyes - Sophie didn't know what she would do if she found pity in them - she picked up a piece of gingerbread and took a savage bite. 

"Soph, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distress you," Cole said. 

Ignoring him, she continued to cram the disgusting cake into her mouth only to find incipient tears had closed her throat, forcing her to swallow again and again until she was nearly retching.

"Stop, please, you'll make yourself ill," implored Cole to a resolutely deaf Sophie. 

Several uncomfortable minutes later, she slapped sticky crumbs from her hands and glared at a guilty looking Cole. The self-pity and humiliation which had threatened to engulf her were now turning to ash in the flames of welcome anger. How dare he question her as if she were trying to hide something from him. Which she was, but he didn't know that. Now he thought she was a naïve, romantic girl, pining for true love. Which she had been, but he didn't know that!

<i>Fine. What's good for the goose is good for the gander</i>. Since his wife's death, Sophie had respected Cole's unspoken wishes and avoided asking him about Bella. Although they spoke freely and frankly about everything else, around his marriage there lay a shroud of secrets and silent dishonour. Out of love for him and, if she were truthful with herself, for fear of what she may hear, Sophie allowed Cole to direct what little conversation they had of Bella. But no longer. Balling her fists, she attacked.

"If it is time to unburden our souls, then there is something which has always puzzled me. Why did you send Bella away? Her behaviour was embarrassing, yes, but it was nothing that you couldn't have smoothed away, nothing that half the <i>ton</i> don't get up to themselves. 

"But instead of just looking the other way as would other men, you practically booted her from the county. Which evidently wasn't enough because Marianne told me you wouldn't rest until Bella had sailed for Calais. Why would you risk causing talk like that? And although Bea doesn't speak of her mother now, she will one day. What are you planning to tell her?"



Afternoon Tea Ch. 04



Cole wasn't so much taken aback as staggered by the verbal ambush – heavens knew Sophie had a temper and wasn't shy about letting him see it but this? She never asked him about Bella. 

"How do you know I sent her away? Maybe she chose to leave."

Sophie laughed. "Don't be ridiculous." 

Surprised at her vehemence, Cole leaned a hip against an out-of-tune pianoforte and quirked an enquiring eyebrow. He waited, watching as Sophie's lips thinned, her body canting away from him as a slipper-clad foot retreated beneath her gown. Finally, she straightened and raised a brow of her own.

"You know she adored being the Countess of Rochedale." 

This, Cole had to admit, was true. Never had he met anyone who had enjoyed wielding power over others more. And if that meant Bella would be forcing someone to do something they didn't want to, then so much the better. As Cole's countess, Bella could cow and manipulate those she considered beneath her and Bella had considered nearly everyone beneath her. And when she felt her power threatened - her viciousness had known no bounds. 

"She grew bored tucked away in the country here," he said. "Far too few people to play with."

"No, I don't believe that. There was no warning, we just woke up one morning and poof! she was in London. If she had been nursing a dislike for life here, I think we all would have heard about it. Why are you lying?"

"Lying? How dare you! If you were a man, I'd call you out for that." Cole drew himself up and spinning on his heel, marched over to the window, all offended honour and aggrieved pride. He snuck a glance at her reflection in the glass. Folded arms, tapping foot and a distinctly unworried expression. Damn it, alright, that didn't work.

Crossing to her, Cole took her hands.

"Sophie, you're just going to have to trust me. There are some things between a man and his wife… private things… do you understand?"

Sophie nodded, her face solemn. Thank God, she's believed me, he thought, relief flooding through him. Looking down, she nodded again and pressed his hands firmly. And kept squeezing.

"Ow, Soph -"

"I understand that you're a lying, uncaring bastard who thinks he has a right to my every private thought while keeping two years of your life to himself."

Casting his hands from her clasp, she stomped her foot in fury.

"Two years Cole! She took you away from me for two whole years and you won't even tell me how it ended." 

"Just leave it, Sophie, I mean it," Cole gritted out. 

"Why.Did.You.Send.Bella.Away?" Toe to toe and yelling up into his face, Sophie punctuated each word with a stab of her finger into his rigid chest. And, brought to bay and with blood still heated from his earlier terror, Cole's fragile hold on his control snapped. 

"Because of you! You, Sophie. She hated you. She told me that - " Seeing Sophie's face blanch as it stared up into his own, he broke off. Knowing he should stop, laugh, tell her he was jesting, instead he framed her face with shaking hands, stroking a thumb over a bloodless cheek. His cock swelled and bucked at the feel of her satin smooth skin even as he hated himself for talking of such perversion to the best person he had ever known. 

Swallowing, he continued, "Bella told me that she had proof that your grandmother had not been an opera singer but only the madam of a whorehouse in London 's docks." She jerked in his hands, her eyes huge. 

"Be still, my love, she was lying of course. She was scared of you, angry that without even trying, you were more admired, more beloved, than she would ever be. So she wanted to humiliate you, to force you to… she wanted to watch us… you and I… together." Cole's voice dipped and roughened, his gaze straying to her plump, moist bottom lip. "Do you understand what I am saying to you, Sophie?" 

At her trembling gasp, Cole dropped his hands but couldn't quite make himself step back.

"I'm sorry, I - I'm so sorry. She was hateful and wicked and wanted to drag everyone down into hell with her," he said. Standing this close, he could feel her, the vibration of her breasts against his chest, see the brush of his breath stirring loose wisps of hair at her temple. 

"But you didn't want to?" she whispered to his waistcoat. 

"No, I'd never want you like that!"

Her head jerked back and as he stared down into the storm building in her forest green eyes, he realised that there was probably no servant close enough to hear a cry for help.



Afternoon Tea Ch. 05



#

##

Sophie planted two soft palms on his chest and shoved. Cole careened backwards, barely able to keep from crashing onto his arse, and swore. 

"Damn me, that's not what I-" he stopped short, unable to keep from quailing a little beneath the naked murder in her face. 

"I see. What exactly is so repulsive about me? Is it my face? Because I've been compared to a goddess you know! By three different men, " she hissed. "Four if you count Reverend Quincey!" 

"You are a goddess; wait, Reverend Quincey? -" 

"Or perhaps my legs are not long enough, heaven knows you called me a dwarf often enough when we were children." 

All but howling with rage, Sophie madly rucked up her skirt to reveal two slender, perfectly curved legs. The creamy skin of her gently rounded thighs was circled by garters woven with scarlet ribbons. In that moment, Cole would have given half his estate to have one of those garters between his teeth. 

"So? Are they not good enough to be wrapped around your back?" 

Gaping, Cole dragged his eyes back up to Sophie's flushed face, his blood pulsing harder with every breath. He was scared to speak, in case she became even angrier or worse, dropped her skirts. But Sophie wasn't done. 

"Maybe it's my hair!" she shouted, reaching up and frenziedly yanking out pins to let a waist length river of fire tumble down her back and over her shoulders. "You don't like red hair, Cole? You wouldn't like to see it wrapped around your fist as you guide my mouth to your cock?" 

"Sophie," he said, his eyes threatening to cross as visions of her wet tongue smoothing its way up his shaft danced before them. "You must stop this -" 

"No?! It must be my breasts then!" she yelled. 

Cole shut his mouth with a snap.

Sophie yanked out the modest fichu pinned into the bodice of her dress and hurled it to his feet with a strangled sound of incoherent fury. Jerking the dress's sleeves off her shoulders, she wrestled the bodice down to bare the most magnificent pair of breasts Cole had ever seen. Full and firm, with tip tilted pale pink nipples that budded under his stunned gaze. 

"My God," he muttered, not daring to blink in case they'd disappeared when he opened his eyes again. He swallowed hard, and again, as his cock screamed for him to get his mouth on that creamy expanse. 

Silently praying to whatever gods were listening, Cole stepped towards her. Dainty nostrils flared with every wild breath as she watched his approach. Her narrowed eyes widened when he slid his hands around her waist, only to glide shut as, unable to resist, he flexed his fingers. She murmured something and swayed, her nipples coming within a hairsbreadth of his chest. Desire was pounding at the small of his back.

"Sophie, I…" he started before trailing off. What could he say?

Cole groaned as his rational mind began to fragment, its pieces tugged apart by the scent of sweetpeas rising from her hair, the suppleness of her waist beneath his hands, her soft, quick breaths. God, how he wanted nothing more than to finish what she had started, just keeping pulling her dress down and worship every bared inch of her with lips and tongue and hands. He shuddered at the thought of taking those pink rosebuds gently between his teeth and listening to her beg. Of spreading her silky thighs to press his mouth to fiery curls, slipping a ravenous tongue over and between glistening feminine folds and sending it deep into a spasming sex. 

As if she could see the licentious visions too, Sophie shivered and gave a little moan. Just one kiss, he pleaded with himself, one kiss will be forgivable. A man dying of thirst could lift his face to a cool breeze. And he could stop at one kiss.

Bliss. Her lips were so sweet, luscious like just-picked raspberries, warm from the sun. Groaning with pleasure, he raised his head to nuzzle her cheek. Sophie mewed and lifted her face, her body pressing against his constraining hands. Helpless to disobey her silent command, he kissed her again, dipping and stroking her lips apart. She moaned when his tongue slipped between them to meet hers, a secret meeting of private flesh that sent the breath juddering from his lungs. 

Cole could feel himself drowning in the outrageous sweetness of Sophie's mouth. He threaded a hand into the cool silk of her hair and, with a grunt of apology, tipped her head so he could angle his and slide his seeking tongue more firmly against her own. She responded with a throaty feminine growl that had his balls tightening and his hips lunging involuntarily towards her.

In his fantasies Sophie had never merely lain back and passively accepted his lovemaking. No, in his fantasies she was passionate and uninhibited, vocal and abandoned. And sometimes, in the dark, late hours of the night, as he lay in his sweat rumpled bed, a fist working furiously on his stiff cock, sex with his childhood friend was just a touch depraved. But as wicked as dream-Sophie had been, she was nothing compared to the woman now setting him on fire.

The kiss grew wild as he fought to get closer, to give her back a fraction of the ecstasy that speared through him with every press of her open mouth, every thrust of her tongue. Finally, they broke apart, chests heaving as they gasped for air. Staring down into her eyes, Cole saw shocked desire. But shining though the sweep of her lashes there was another emotion he couldn't name.

Its love! his fevered heart shouted. It couldn't be love. Could it? He searched her face, drinking in her flushed cheeks and passion-bright eyes. She was the very picture of Cole's most secret need, his Sophie, wakened to lust by his kiss.

But it couldn't be, not really, he thought in anguish as reality slithered in, to take back control of his mind. To Sophie, he was a treasured friend, no more. Her pride had goaded her past control and black as his soul was, he was not so low as to take her up on an invitation that she hadn't meant to make.

Hurriedly, he untangled his hand from its sweet prison of flaming curls and began tugging her dress back up. Her breasts pressed against the backs of his fingers as his increasingly desperate jerks caused the lush flesh to jiggle gently. Cole ground his teeth so hard his vision wavered.

Sophie's half-lidded eyes popped wide, her mouth falling open as she stared down at his hands. He could see her shifting between disbelief and bewilderment. She shook her head. 

"What - what are you doing?"

"I cannot do this," he told her, the pulsing weight of his engorged cock making him blunt. He yanked wildly on the bodice.

"But… you kissed me," she said quietly.

"I know! I was wrong to do so and I - why won't they go back in?" he burst out, only to stumble back when she exploded, slapping at his hands until he released her.

Stuffing herself back into her dress, she choked out, "So you did mean what you said - that you could never want me."

With a trembling hand cupped her nape, Cole pressed his hot forehead tight against hers, willing, praying that she would see the truth in his eyes.

"No, Sophie, no, I meant that I would never want you coerced in the way that Bella wanted. For you to be forced, in fear and shame, to let a man gorge himself on your body." 

"But she wouldn't have been forcing me." The aching treble of despair in her voice stopped Cole's heart. His mind reeled.

"No. No, you don't mean that." He drew back and gripped her shoulders. She said nothing, her face wearing the blasted expression of a solder fresh from the battlefield.

"Sophie, I don't understand. Tell me what you mean."

Cole barely resisted the urge to shake it out of her when Sophie just stared at him. All the strength seemed to have drained out of her as she rested limp in his hold.

"Sophie!"

After a frozen eternity, her eyebrows drew down in the same expression of reckless determination that had covered her ten year old face before she took the old stone wall on her new gelding. Cole's breath was ice in his chest.

"I want you. No, I love you. I've loved you since before I knew there was any other way to be. Even if you do listen to old maids gossip. So if you don't take that cock you're pressing against me and fuck me with it right now, I will never forgive you."

Sophie's voice was steady; only her hands betrayed her, fluttering where they lay on his chest. Now it was Cole's turn to go numb.

"You love me, " he echoed. 

"Yes." 

"Me." 

Her hands clutched at him. "You." 

"And you want my cock." 

"Oh yes," she vowed. 

Now he kissed her again, vulnerable, hungry, revelling in the sweet lushness of her mouth, groaning when her tongue eased past his lips to lap hotly at his own. When he lifted his head, Sophie tugged at the damp curls of hair at his nape in protest but he ignored the delicious pleasure-pain, waiting until she opened dazed eyes. 

"Just to be clear -" 

"I love you! Now will you please be quiet and kiss me?" she pouted up at him with kiss-wet lips. 

He groaned. "God, yes. No, wait. Sophie, we will be wed." 

Maybe I could have phrased that better, he thought, as she stiffened in his arms. 

"That is, I mean to say, hell, Soph, please marry me. No, don't speak, not yet," he rushed on, as she opened her mouth. Hardly knowing what he was doing, Cole sank to his knees. 

"You have always been the light of my life, always. Well, now along with Bea, of course." 

She smiled and he took heart. 

"To be able to give you my name, to have the honour and privilege of protecting and providing for you and, if it pleases God, any children we may have -- that would be a gift beyond anything I could possibly hope to deserve in a thousand lifetimes. Because I don't deserve you. But I want to spend every day and every night with you, not deserving you." 

He turned her hands over to place a reverent kiss on each palm. 

"Life without you would be a hell far worse than anything Bella ever put me through. So please be my wife and Bea's mother. Marry me."

Tears glittered in Sophie's eyes. "Oh, Cole. To be your wife - I would like that of all things. So, yes. A thousand times, yes." 

Joy, effervescent and pure, exploded in Cole's head. Surging to his feet, he grabbed Sophie around the waist to whirl her in wild circles. Their combined laughter rang in the room's dusty corners and Cole felt dizzy in a way he knew had nothing to do with the spinning. When, still laughing, she threatened to be sick on his head, Cole clasped her to him in a fierce hug. He sighed in happiness as her arms stole around his waist, to hold on just as tight. 

Then she asked the same question she always asked in his nightmares. 

"But Cole? When Bella told you of what she planned, why didn't you just tell her that you wouldn't do it?"



Afternoon Tea Ch. 06



#

##

#"Cole?"

Tugging her over to a chaise longue, he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Looking down into her trusting eyes nearly caused his courage to fail so he tucked her head under his chin.

"Soph…" 

He paused to hook a curl pinned between their bodies and draw it back over her shoulder. "I had always known that Bella and I were to wed. It was an decision made before either of us were even born." 

Sophie nodded her agreement. It was common knowledge that Cole and Bella's fathers had long planned to unite their estates by having their children marry. Moreover, Cole knew that, as a lady of good family, she understood that most marriages in the ton were contracts made to increase wealth, land and status. 

He continued, "Even knowing that I could never offer for you, I loved you. Although I never told her, I am sure Bella knew what you meant to me. And when she told me there was a way I could have you naked and underneath me, at last -" 

Watching the climb of Sophie's blush was sweet agony. It wasn't until tentative fingers began to stroke at his chest that he realised she'd unbuttoned his shirt. Cole held his breath as Sophie pressed her fingertips into the pad of muscle above his nipple.

"So firm," she murmured in obvious approval.

When her fingers began to explore his nipple, tickling gently, he gasped.

"Sweetheart…" he said, jouncing her a little in warning.

"You don't like that?" she asked, snatching her hand back and flushing beet red.

"Quite the contrary."

Sophie flicked him a disbelieving look and made to get up, pulling a rumbled Uh-uh from Cole. Tightening his arms around her, he captured an earlobe between his teeth and tugged. Half-huffing, half sighing Sophie settled back down only to sit bolt upright as her mind identified the large, rigid presence under her bottom.

"See?" Scrutinising the muslin covered bosom inches from his nose, Cole decided that if this was all going to be taken away from him, as surely must happen once Sophie understood what had happened with Bella, then he was not going to stop himself now. These stolen fragments of love where going to have to last him the rest of his life.

Muttering nonsense words of longing into her ear, he freed a pink tipped breast from her gown. Only dimly registering Sophie's moan, Cole slowly dragged the tip of a finger over her budding nipple. Then, instead of taking it between his lips as he longed to, he pulled her dress back up.

"Did you like that?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

Sophie slapped at his chest and nuzzled closer. "You know I did, you insufferable cad."

"Well, then, don't be such a ninny."

"Bounder."

"Minx."

All was quiet in the pink drawing room as Cole and Sophie held each other for long minutes. Finally, Sophie cleared her throat and sat back.

"But I interrupted you, darling - pray, continue."

The despair that had lifted with the erotic teasing, engulfed Cole once again.

Stop delaying the inevitable, man! She deserves to know who - what - you really are.

Groping for a way to explain his secret shame, he said "You must understand, I had played with you as a child, danced with you at your first ball, watched better men than I try for your attention… sometimes I felt like I could barely breathe for want of you. Every second I spent with you was hell - because every second was heaven. Bella knew exactly what she was doing when she came to me with that plan." 

Cole shuddered, remembering the moment when his soul had twisted between his hunger for Sophie and his bone-deep need to protect her from harm. 

"I nearly said yes. And she knew it. I nearly let Bella take my desire and turn it into something she could use to hurt you. So I made her leave. Because she wanted to humiliate you and hurt me, hurt us, and I couldn't trust myself to stop her.

"And that's why I've never said anything to you though I've been free for nearly two years. Because you deserve so much better than an immoral deviant. But when you tell me that you want me too… how could I resist that? I couldn't. Which only proves again how much of a bastard I truly am."

Cole rested his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes in resignation. Only to have his head snapped back up by the shocking trickle of warm moisture on his throat.

"Oh God, you're crying, please Sophie love, stop crying, please, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have let this happen, I'll go away, I'll never mphmmmph -" 

Sophie pressed her forehead to the hand she'd slapped over his mouth and cried harder. Each sob shook her little body and seemed to wrench at something vital inside him. Helpless tears gathered in his own eyes as he stared down at her bent head. Never before had he felt this remorseless horror, this mind numbing slide into icy despair, as he did now, watching Sophie weep. Eventually, she pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at her face with a trembling hand.

"You are disgusted. You should be. I betrayed you, in thought if not in deed," he said dully. He said the words as a condemned man would cast his transgressions before an uncaring king - not through hope of mercy but in utter desolation.

Sophie quietened. Taking his head in her hands, she bumped noses with him, once, twice, then pressed a kiss so gentle to his lips that, for a moment, Cole feared he would start crying again. Her mouth was swollen and he could taste the faintest trace of her tears.

"You are a good and honourable man. I know that is true and nothing you say can ever persuade me otherwise. And after all, you did make the right choice. So please Cole… marry me?" 

"You… forgive me?" Cole's voice was thick with hope. She answered him with a kiss.



Afternoon Tea Ch. 07



#

##

Two months later, in Rome … 

Sophie squealed as her naked husband tossed her onto their hotel room's bed. 

Bouncing to her knees, she tossed a hank of damp hair out of her eyes. 

"You wretched beast, don't think that just because we're married now, you can manhandle me as you please. I was enjoying that bath!" 

"But sweetheart, I want to enjoy you - and my head still hurts from where I cracked it against the side of the tub yesterday," Cole said, rubbing an imaginary lump on the back of his head. "Bloody slippery wife, won't stay still while I'm inside her, bouncing and bucking and making a fellow go head over arse," he groused in pretend annoyance. Flicking a glance at his blushing bride, he squared his shoulders and struck a heroic pose. A painting of a bowl of grapes hanging beside the bed was subjected to a manly scowl. 

Pretending to ignore Sophie's laughter, he told the fruit, "But we Rochedales are no cowards! We do not know the meaning of surrender. Though we may be wounded grievously in body, our hearts and our spirits will ever rally to the call!" 

"'Once more unto the breach, dear friends'?" she suggested. 

"Just so, my love, well said. And what a delectable little breach it is too," Cole smirked, licking his lips as he remembered the addictive taste of her creamy juices and how he hadn't nearly had his fill last night. His Sophie had a tiresome habit of passing out after only four or five screaming climaxes. 

"Your grievous wound didn't seem to stop you from keeping me awake well past dawn this morning."

"I beg your pardon, I seem to recall it was your tongue on my ballocks after I'd already given you three good cockings, my lusty little love."

"Oh. So it was. Well, in that case -" Sophie leered at him. "Why don't you bring that man handle over here and aaah!" She shrieked as he leaped onto the bed. Sighing she let him pin her onto her back as he lay on his side next to her, one leg hooked over hers, opening her to him.

"At last. You talk too much, Soph," he mumbled around a mouthful of creamy tit, smiling when she swatted the top of his head in admonishment at his teasing. It was only with him that Sophie relaxed the guards she placed around her physically demonstrative nature and Cole treasured that trust. 

Dragging his lips all around a swollen nipple, he dragged the flat of his tongue slowly up and over it. He did this again and again until Sophie was writhing beneath him, her breath coming quick and hard. At last, a small fist thumped his shoulder.

"Cole! Please… suck it," she begged.

Fighting back the lust coiling in his groin, he fell to with a will, suckling strongly and drawing moan after moan from her; his breath hitched with every one.

Slipping his fingers down her body, Cole teased briefly at the dimple of her navel. She squirmed and giggled, drawing an answering chuckle from him. They both sighed when his fingers stroked between her thighs.

"God, Soph, you're so hot…" he groaned, as he eased a finger into her moist sex, switching to tease her other breast as he did so. She whimpered and bucked her hips at him.

"More, please, more, don't stop!"

"I'll give you more," he said, lust turning his voice to a throaty rumble. He thrust a second finger into her and grinned wickedly at her squeal. Pumping his fingers, he flicked at her engorged clitoris with his thumb. Uttering broken sighs of pleasure, Sophie drew up her feet so she could drive herself down onto his hand. Her arms fell limp over her head as he pushed her nearer and nearer to the edge.

"So good," she panted, plump breasts bouncing in unison with his thrusts.

"So tight," countered Cole. He pressed his thumb against her and swore when she convulsed, the feel of her slick femininity squeezing his delving fingers seeming to sear itself onto his brain. The head of his cock was slick with seed and he swallowed once, twice, trying to will his climax back down his pulsing shaft. Concentrating hard on bringing Sophie to her own finish, he began to tongue her neck. She sighed, only to wail softly when he scraped his teeth over the curve between her neck and shoulder. Undulating her body to the rhythm of his still-driving fingers, she found his erection with her hip. Crowing in satisfaction, she began to grind up at him. Cole's jaw slackened at the feel of her silky skin rubbing hard at his cock.

"Yes, Cole, yes, use me, rub that huge cock all over me."

Cole shuddered at her words and the motions of her hips, the heat coiling in his belly sinking lower. He felt his balls beginning to tighten and knew he was close.

"M'sorry, Sophie, love, wait, have to…"

"No," she whimpered, "Please Cole, no more waiting, not now, please, I've waited long enough!"

He knew that she was nearly irrational with need and hadn't meant to wound him with that dying echo of their shared sorrow but nevertheless, Cole's heart lurched and he couldn't scramble between her thighs fast enough. Whipping out his fingers, Cole gripped himself with one hand and, trying to steady Sophie's writhing body with the other, began to work the broad head of his shaft into her. She was so small and snug that getting inside her without coming on the first stroke was nearly impossible.

Trying to block out her breathy pleas, he paused with only his first couple of inches wedged inside her, fighting desperately for control. She blinked up at him and bit her lip.

"Jesus Christ!"

Cole threw back his head and roared as Sophie tightened her dripping sex around him, clenching his cock-head with mind-numbing waves of heat and pressure. His hips surged forward, stuffing the rest of his iron-hard shaft in her up to its thick base. Their mouths met in a fierce kiss as he started a hard rhythm, drawing back till only the tip remained within her, then ramming forward. His chest muscles bulged as he worked above her, hips pistoning his fat length through her swollen folds over and over.

Sophie's voice broke as she urged him on, begging him not to stop, for more, to fuck her harder. Her nails raked down his back before sinking into his arse. Ecstasy ricocheted through Cole, pooling in his pumping groin.

Bracing himself with one arm, and never slowing his pounding drives, he slid a hand beneath her. Sweat-slick muscles shifted as he lifted her off the bed. Letting her arms fall to the side, she surrendered to his hold, body arching, swollen breasts thrust high. Her chin tipped back to bare the line of her throat, her hair pooling under her head. Gazing down at her as she abandoned herself to his lovemaking, something in Cole's mind gave. Bending his head, he snarled into her ear.

"You were made for this. For me. To be fucked by me." A particularly brutal thrust followed by a grind of his pelvis against her engorged clit punctuated his words and drew a helpless cry from her parted lips.

"I'm going to make you come all over my cock because that's where you were born to be. D'you hear me? You're mine." 

Nodding wildly, Sophie grabbed a fistful of hair and dragged his mouth to hers. He felt her sex begin to spasm around his cock and she began to scream into his mouth as her climax overtook her. 

Cole shouted in savage satisfaction, "Yes, God, squeeze me tight! Sophie!…"

Then he was grunting as his climax exploded from his balls, hips jerking wildly as he emptied himself into her. His mind blanked as pleasure slammed through him and he could only chant her name mindlessly as he came, joining her in ecstasy.

When the seemingly endless waves of pleasure began to subside, Cole collapsed onto his back, tugging Sophie with him so she sprawled comfortably on his chest. He stretched hard before folding his arms behind his head, unable to stop what he knew was a very smug smile turning up his lips. After a few minutes, Sophie began to squirm, her rosebud mouth pursued in an adorable moue of displeasure.

"What's wrong, kitten?"

"I wish I could live with you inside me," she complained, grasping his softening cock in an intimate squeeze as it began to slip out of her.

He growled helplessly at the friction on his hyper-sensitive skin, scarcely believing the faint answering pulse of blood deep in his belly.

"Keep doing that and you just may get your wish," he warned her. Sophie grinned.

Several sweaty and delicious hours later, they lay on their sides, facing each other on the wrecked bed. Every so often Cole would stir his aching body enough to let him press a soft kiss to Sophie's face, just to see her sleepy eyes glow. The setting sun was lighting Rome 's churches ablaze outside the window; occasionally a snatch of music would curl upwards like a wisp of smoke from the piazza below. They listened, smiling, as a delighted child welcomed her father home, insisting in a flurry of high-pitched Italian, that he come see what she had helped mamma cook. 

Woken from his light doze, Cole was loathe to break the restful silence but all of a sudden, he could no longer ignore the suspicion that had been growing steadily ever since that afternoon in the drawing room. 

"Love?" 

"Mmmm?" 

"Why did Roger visit you? Don't say you've already told me, what was the real reason?" 

Sophie stretched, mumbling something under her breath before grinning at him. 

"You see, Marianne was going to visit that week and I'd asked her to pick something up for me on her way through London . But Stephen was having a devil of a time at Whitehall, so Marianne decided to postpone her visit to stay with him. She knew Roger would be travelling my way, so she asked him to deliver my package for her." 

She smiled sweetly, laughter lurking in her eyes. "See? Nothing whatever to do with wanting to marry me," she said.

"I do see," he agreed. "What I don't see is, what was in the package?" 

"Hmm? Oh, the package," she said, her tongue slipping out to slide a wicked path up his neck before dabbling at the corner of his lips. Cole set his teeth and swore to himself that he would not be swayed from… from… God, she smelled so good… like woman and sex and him… not be swayed from his suspicion! He swallowed, trying to ignore her teeth tugging on his earlobe and failing. 

"Yes, Sophie. What was in it?" he asked, his voice stern even as he stroked a hand over her hip to cup and fondle her bottom. 

"Nothing of any importance."

"Nothing of any importance. Good. Wonderful. So, most definitely not a wooden sword that could be used by a small child to molest unsuspecting passersby then?" 

"Nooooo," lied Sophie, nodding, then collapsing into laughter. She tried to smother her giggles with his chest, leading to snuffling sounds that had Cole's mouth twitching. 

After her giggles had died down, she asked, "How did you know it was I who gave Bea the sword?" 

He shook his head at her, inwardly laughing when she pinched his arm in retribution for his condescending manner. Rubbing at his arm with a martyred expression of exaggerated pain, he explained. 

"When I told you that maid had been attacked, you instantly assumed Bea was the culprit. And when we were children, my own swords always used to go missing after you'd come for a visit. I had to tell Father that I kept losing them." 

Lowering his voice, he teased, "It's the red hair. Makes you arm small girl children, undress in drawing rooms and such, don't you know." 

Unabashed, Sophie stuck out her tongue at him. Resisting the urge to snigger, he assumed his most priggish tone. 

"M'dear, it's a very good thing that I am now your husband, I dare say. It is clear to me that both you and my hellion of a daughter require taking in hand. Yes, indeed. It is obviously my duty as a Christian and a gentleman to provide some sorely needed guidance on restraint in the face of wicked temptation." 

Sophie cocked her head to the side. "Restraint in the face of temptation. Hmm. Does that mean you are not planning to… how did you put it?… gorge yourself on my body after all?" 

Prodding him onto his back, she pushed herself up to straddle his ridged stomach. She stretched slowly, arching her back and pushing her fingers into tousled hair before shaking it out. The last of the day's light streamed through the window, igniting her hair and painting her skin in mouth watering hues of gold and butter. Her eyes sparkled the deep green of his dreams and Cole knew his mouth was hanging open as he gazed up at her. She was a blazing homage to lust, sin and sex, a loving idol before whom he would lay the rest of his life. 

"I love you, Sophie," Cole said, suddenly serious. "So much." 

Thank you for waiting, my love, he thought. 

Melting, Sophie kissed him. 

"I love you, Cole," she said. 

You are most welcome, my heart. 

The End.