Song for Sophia by Moriah Denslea Read Free Book Online Page A

seemed deep in concentration.”
    He shook his head. “We deal in secrets, you and I. Tell me one of yours, and I’ll tell one of mine.”
    “All right. Well, I once ran naked down Rue de Jardinet at midnight. I was drunk and lost a wager.”
    Oh, that beguiling half-smile! One side of his mouth pulled up, carving a dimple in one cheek while the other side set in a smirk. It made him look like a mischievous pirate. She could grow accustomed to teasing that smile out of him.
    “Interesting, Rosalie, but it must be the one I ask for.”
    “What do you want to know?” His gaze bore into hers, and she felt as naked as she had that wild night in Paris, but painfully sober.
    “What sort of foe do I protect you from?” Before she could object he added, “The truth, please, or I will know. And if you won’t give names, at least tell me what we are up against.”
    We . We? Since when did they become we ?
    Wilhelm unfolded himself and stalked to the settee, kneeling directly in front of her where she couldn’t escape the cold fire burning in the facets of his eyes. Up close he was mesmerizing.
    “You are hiding from the law … . No. You’ve been wronged. Betrayed. Ah, yes — a truth. By your husband? No. Someone else in your family.” His gaze scanned her face as though her entire history was written there. “And you are very, very frightened. But I see such ruthlessness in you. You are ready to fight. You expect it. And that resolve was instilled in you by a great deal of hardship.”
    Sophia turned away before he guessed everything else. “Stop that.”
    “I apologize.”
    “What, are you a gypsy fortune teller? How do you do that? I didn’t say a word.”
    “Your face did. Your eyes hardened when I mentioned betrayal. You swallow when you are angry. And your pupils dilate when I guess the truth, but you blink when I am wrong. Otherwise, you are admirably demure. Never fear, you would fool all but the best.”
    “And you are the best?”
    Wilhelm smiled, and she hoped he wouldn’t do it often — it was blinding. Wearing a true smile, he went from roughly handsome to devastating. “You said so, not me. Now your turn. Ask.”
    “Why do you offer me such freedom? To a stranger?”
    “Some reasons I may tell you later — I don’t wish to frighten you. But primarily, I like you. I suppose I trust you.”
    “You suppose ?”
    “Instinctually — I am seldom wrong. Why, should I not trust you?”
    “Not for a moment.” She tried to smile but couldn’t manage it.
    “Now that,” he leaned in to peck a kiss to her temple, “was honest. Do come down for dinner at the bell. Half past six, but I suppose you already know that. And wear something fit for a lady.”
    And then he was gone, leaving her left temple aflame with the memory of his lips on her skin. For the first time in her life, she found herself interested in a man who clearly didn’t want her at all. Surprising how that stung. Petty how she reassured herself, He prefers men — it must be true. Is that not the way of it, that the most appealing are out of reach? She had met scores like him among the demi-monde in Paris, Athens, Venice; some overtly deviant and others, like Lord Devon, seemed entirely masculine. The alternative possibility, that he consorted with women but she simply didn’t inspire his passion, bothered her far more than she would admit.
    • • •
    “Whatever is the matter, dear?”
    Sophia desperately wanted to scramble from the dining room in a panic and barely registered Aunt Louisa’s flat tone. She could not eat a single bite of the cake before her. Cold shivers chased dread through her limbs.
    The moment she realized she was cornered and the sharp bloom of panic exploding in her chest. Restrained and powerless as he slammed her against the wall, again and again until her vision blurred. Grasping, scratching, desperate to defend herself but her fingers sliding on sweat-slicked flesh, hairy strong limbs. Futility.