Song for Sophia by Moriah Denslea Read Free Book Online

sarcasm? She was so disoriented she belatedly realized she would not have to tell him to sod off.
    “I do not recall such an offer in the first place,” he mock-whispered, “And I would be a fool to presume.”
    “Your humility serves you well.”
    “I shall store your words away and savor them again in the future, perhaps at a time when you contradict yourself.” Then he winked and smiled, and it disarmed her.
    Sophia could not resist a wide smile; it was all she could do to avoid laughing outright again. No use letting him think he had thoroughly charmed her. “Then what is it you demand, aside from teaching your nieces?”
    “Your company, anytime I ask for it. And … an illusion.” He explained, “Surely you noticed I mean to give the impression you are my mistress. It is the simplest explanation to present to the household and the best way I can protect you.” He said it experimentally, but his eyes watched with a hawkish intensity. She was careful to show no reaction to his suggestion that she needed protection.
    “Fair enough.” Pretend to be a ladybird? Sophia was willing to do far worse than appear to behave wickedly for the sake of her safety.
    “Depending on the situation, I may introduce you as my paramour, fiancée, or even wife. And you will smile and play the part, something you do well.”
    A man who only wanted to appear attached to a woman? She could only think of one reason why, but she would never dare ask. Instead she teased, “You sound like a spymaster.”
    Wilhelm chuckled. “Clever female. Too clever, but that is why I like you.”
    His expression invited no argument. “My secrets in exchange for yours. Deal.”
    He ducked to kiss her temple and let silence hang between them until they reached the west wing. They passed the master suite, then Wilhelm halted and unlocked the next door. The Red Suite, the luxurious apartments of the non-existent Lady Devon. Sophia followed him inside, knowing there was no going back.

Chapter 6
    Why Rum Is Henceforth Banned At Rougemont
    Lord Devon still had not said a word. He lounged in the window seat overlooking the west courtyard. Long minutes, perhaps a quarter hour — a long time for silence. It seemed he hardly blinked or even moved. Sophia reclined on a settee, studying the sitting room fit for a queen. Scarlet velvet drapes framed tall windows, marble tile veined in black and red shared the floor with Persian rugs like the ones she admired in the music room. Dramatic mahogany furniture gave the room its somber Rococo style. Elegant but serious, a space she could relax in. The enormous canopied bed called to her, feather stuffed — hallelujah!
    The painted friezes of Roman goddesses and their lovers chasing each other across the ceiling put her in a maudlin mood. Sophia was all too aware of the far door of the bedchamber connecting to Lord Devon’s — Wilhelm’s , she corrected herself — dressing room. Of course it would stay locked, but she would think far too often of who slept on the other side.
    Finally he turned and stared, and she felt conspicuous. His gaze raked over her, a slow study with a hint of erotic interest belying his even expression. Why did he do that? She stared back, blatantly studying him in return, but the brazenness seemed lost on him.
    Wilhelm looked striking, cast half in light and half in shadow. His coloring was subdued; as though God had not dared paint such a grim, ferocious man with frivolous colors. Storm gray eyes, sharp rather than brilliant. Careless waves of collar-length hair a sandy blond that had probably grown darker as he matured. And mature was the word. His thirty-some-odd years had not been kind. He looked excessively weather-beaten and scarred for a lord. He was essentially too much. Too handsome, domineering, far too interesting.
    “I feel wary of you as well, Rosalie.”
    “You see too much, Wilhelm.”
    “I am often told that, in variations.”
    “What were you thinking of just now? You