Cristiane Serruya - Trust: Betrayed

A silence filled the library and Alistair looked at Tavish. “You are, Tavish Uilleam. Get ready for it.”

“Your brother is only second in line.” Lachlann prompted. “And you’re young. You could still have an heir.”

Sophia felt Alistair stiffen beside her.

“This subject is not open for discussion.” His other hand on his thigh was fisted so hard its knuckles were white.

Sophia looked at the sudden stern faces and tensed. So... They don’t know. She squeezed Alistair’s hand gently. But what about artificial insemination or adoption? The thoughts left her reeling. Oh, I’m sure we can find a way.

Alistair looked at her, an anguished expression in his eyes, “The next duke will be Tavish Uilleam. So, he should get married soon and beget an heir for the dukedom.” Because there’ll be no heirs coming from my rotten cock.

“But why? I don’t get it, Alistair Connor,” Tavish shook her head.

And I’m not going to explain it to you. “This discussion is closed.”

Sophia silently glanced at Alistair’s profile; lines bracketed his mouth, his lips were set in a thin line and his eyes were mere slits, the long black lashes almost fusing. She could see that he was holding his temper in check by a thin thread. She scooted closer to him, not sure what to do, but trying to transmit a bit of comfort. He intertwined his fingers with hers, squeezing them.

“When you inherit the title-” Lachlann tentatively started.

“Want me to disclaim it?” His breath altered. “I can do it first thing tomorrow.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Alistair Connor,” Alice’s demeanor darkened and her temper flared, when she noticed Lachlann’s disappointed grimace.

“Alice-” Leonard started just to be interrupted by his wife, “You’ll regret it when you have a son-”

“Enough!” Alistair roared, banging his open hand on the sofa arm, heaving. He looked around staring at each one in the room, but avoiding Sophia’s gaze.

“Enough.” He repeated in a lower and more controlled voice. He was squeezing their fingers so hard that it hurt Sophia.

A awkward silence ensued for a few seconds before Sophia offered as a change of subject. “Do you hunt here, Lachlann?”

“Only if no one is near.” Leonard immediately grasped the opportunity to make things light again. He winked at Sophia. As she looked at Leonard, puzzled, he explained, “Lachlann never manages to hit anything, so he hunts with Erskine. Erskine makes the shot, and Lachlann brings it back saying he shot it. Alice shoots better than he does.”

Lachlann laughed. “It’s you who has poor aim, Leonard.” He eyed Sophia. “Do you hunt?”

“I’ve never had the opportunity,” Sophia answered and she could feel Alistair’s body slowly relaxing.

He turned to her. “Do you know how to shoot?”

“No.”

“We can go tomorrow, if you want,” Lachlann suggested. “One of the trails goes through the forest. It’s very beautiful this time of year. And the roebuck season has just started.”

“I can teach you to shoot. It’s not difficult,” Alistair offered.

“Nae,” said Tavish, with a weird expression on his handsome face. He lifted from his place and walked toward the door, limping noticeably. “It’s not difficult, Sophia. In fact, it’s amazingly easy to kill a living being.” He paused on the threshold. “Count me out. I’ll stay with the kids. Good night.”

Even though he closed the door softly behind him, it seemed like a loud bang was heard in the room.

Lachlann sighed and turned to Sophia, “I’m sorry, my dear. Tavish Uilleam is moody sometimes.”

Both of your sons are, Lachlann. “Please,” Sophia waved away his apology. “It will be nice to explore the forest, even if I don’t do any shooting.”

“Very well.” Lachlann rose from the sofa. “So we’ll change our schedule for tomorrow. We can go riding in the afternoon, since they’re easier to find at dusk. We can leave here around six. We’ll be at the trail in an hour or so.”

Leonard stood up too and turned to his father-in-law with a smile, “Is Erskine coming too, Lachlann?”

“Sophia, I’m counting on you to bear witness to my good aim.” Lachlann made a face at Leonard. “Next time Leonard says anything, I’ll call on your testimony.”

“My pleasure, Lachlann,” Sophia agreed.

“See you at breakfast, then,” Alice said, entwining her fingers with Leonard’s as they exited the room. “Good night, everyone.”

Alexander, Andrew and Domitila rose too, bidding their goodnights. When the library door closed, Alistair raised from the sofa and poured himself a whisky, “Want one?”

Sophia shook her head as she watched Alistair drink his whisky neat, in one gulp, and poured himself another, his stiff spine revealing the tension in him, despite his controlled expression. He leaned against the edge of the huge mahogany desk sipping his drink.

“You’ve seduced me all evening in this dress of yours,” he managed to force the words past his tight throat.

Oh, please, Alistair Connor. Sophia almost rolled her eyes heavenward at his futile attempt to dismiss the topic that he knew she was going to broach. She joined him by the desk. “I think I want a whisky after all.”

When he handed her the glass, she gulped it down as he had done and put the glass down with a defiant thump.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she stepped closer, looking up at his forest green eyes.

“They don’t know, do they?”

He didn’t ask what she was referring to. He just thinned his lips and shook his head. Everything in him indicated he didn’t want to talk about the subject, but Sophia was as stubborn as him and persisted. She had to know what he thought about her wish to have more children.

“Why are you so set against having an heir-”

“I told you I’m sterile.” His voice was icy and he bent his head to kiss her, intent on changing the subject.

Despite the heated kiss, Sophia would not let him digress. “So what? Are you opposed to adoption or artificial-”

“Sophia.” He put his hands on her hips and pulled her flush to his body. His eyes glued to hers, “Heirs to the Craigdale dukedom are only thus considered if they are male heirs of the body lawfully begotten. No adoptions or donate semen could supplant what I can’t do anymore.”

Oh! Sophia, you are so stupid. “So your children... if adopted or... Would never-”

“Never.” His eyes clouded briefly and then blazed green flames. Before Sophia could comprehend the emotion that flickered there, he spun her around and bent her down over the desk.

She gasped, surprised as he stepped closer and his hand grabbed a handful of her dress throwing it over the small of her back.

“I will have you on this desk. Open your legs.” His thick thigh nudged her legs open from behind and he pulled down her panties as he opened his trousers. He pressed his torso onto her back and the tip of his erection brushed her.

“No foreplay, Sophia,” his hot breath fanned her cheek and he brushed her hair away to nip her earlobe and her neck.

“The door,” she reasoned as desire pooled in her body.

“Fuck the door. Fuck everything.” He grabbed her hair in his fist and angled her head so he could kiss her.

Sophia closed her eyes in pleasure as he pushed, firm and sure, prying her body open. The pressure of him inside her, gliding forward and then back, in shallow thrust was pure heaven and made her moan in delight, “Ah!”

He paused, “Am I hurt-”

“Don’t stop.” Sophia’s fingers gripped the edge of the table to steady herself as Alistair pressed her against the desk, holding her hips, as he pushed himself deeper still.

Sophia moaned, clutching the table, turned on by the possibility of their being discovered.

With a hard jerk and a loud groan, he plunged to the hilt inside her, only to yank roughly back and inside again.

His arousal hit deeper than ever inside her body and she cried low, “Alistair Connor!”

Anyone can open the door at any moment. Never had a man taken her like this, so hard, wild and dangerously. Even wilder than at the greenhouse. And she was loving every moment of it.

His labored breaths turned to soft groans as he moved in and out, harder, faster. “Come, Sophia.” Alistair shifted, pulling her backwards from the desk with him deep inside her. He grabbed her hand and put it on her clitoris. “Pleasure yourself.”

Pressure built, the ache of oncoming pleasure growing.

“Alistair,” she cried. “Harder, faster.” She was so close to her release and he pumped faster and harder, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her curved hip as the other tugged again at her hair to slant her mouth to better accommodate his invading tongue.

His lips muffled her scream, her whole body tensing as wave after wave of delight took control of it.

Alistair shoved forcefully inside her once more, grunting his climax through clenched teeth, crushing her on the desk with his torso as he relaxed on her back.

Moments later, he withdrew and composed himself. He cleaned her with his handkerchief, redressed her and arranged her dress while she recovered from the lethargy that always came over her in the aftermath.

“Alistair Connor,” she whispered.

Lifting her in his arms, he moved to the sofa with her on his lap. “You okay?”

“Mmmm,” she opened her yellow diamond eyes to stare at his forest green ones. Lazily, she lifted her arms and plunged her hands in his silky hair, pulling his head down to kiss him leisurely. “You are turning me into a wanton woman. I want more. I want something different.”

This gets better every day. He laughed and murmured on her lips, “As you wish, my lady.”

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Friday, April 2^nd, 2010.

2.23 a.m.

Ethan stared gloomily out the window of his living room into the London night. His heart and soul were in complete turmoil.

He knew that what he felt for Sophia was not simply lust or a passing infatuation. He wanted her, yes. There was no doubt about it. However, it was not his libido that made him obsessed. It was love. But, he wouldn’t take what wasn’t willingly given and the last thing he wanted was to cause her pain.

He braced his forearm on the cold window and rested his forehead on it. I should rid myself of this madness. He looked up to the almost full moon as if hoping for an answer. I just don’t know how.

The sound of the soft footsteps on the stairs reached him.

Barbara climbed down the last step and her eyes searched the moonlit room for Ethan.

He turned and saw her standing in the shadows, wearing a diaphanous black negligé. I need Sophia.

His unfocused gaze was so frightening that Barbara froze and the room went deathly quiet for many seconds before she whispered, “Ethan?”

He shook his head as her voice took him out of his reverie. Sometimes, Ethan lost himself in a dark place within his mind. He cleared his throat and turned his back on her, waving her away, “Go back to sleep.”

Even though he was her employer, hearing the torment in Ethan’s voice hurt Barbara in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

“I woke up and you weren’t in bed,” she said barely above a whisper, approaching him. She hugged his waist and laid her head on his back. “It’s late, my dear. Come back to bed.”

Sophia had been the sweetest pleasure he had ever tasted, but having had her and knowing she was now forbidden to him, worst still because of his own bad choices, was an agony beyond any wound he could receive.

As Ethan turned and crushed Barbara’s lips in a hot kiss, his last coherent thought was that he needed Sophia back in his life.

Ells Hall.

Friday, April 2^nd, 2010.

7.03 p.m.

The party dismounted and tethered their horses to trees in the clearing. The forest was bathed in the last rays of the sun. The sunset in that part of Northumberland was a sublime spectacle; the mist, the colors and the changing light were a wide field for Sophia’s romantic imaginings.

Everyone was carrying rifles, but Sophia. She had declined, as she had never shot before.

“This way, Sophia,” Alistair said in a low voice. “They usually appear near the stream.”

“Watch your step. It’s a bit slippery,” Lachlann murmured and immediately Alistair grabbed her hand.