The Devil's Inheritance Ch. 05

James smiled at her. They were actually having a conversation, as if they had known each other their whole lives. He could get used to this. That thought started to unsettle him. Sophia was still such a new thing to him. He knew that he wanted her desperately, loved her, but balked at the idea of staying here at the farm. He thought about taking her to London to live but like their servants Katje and Aletta, her heart belonged here in the country. He diverted his mind away after some silence and changed the subject; "I think we spoke on the road about the violin?"

Sophia's eyes lit up again as she took her last bite, "And where shall we enjoy our music tonight?"

"I think that upstairs is still a safe bet," he said with a wicked grin, "Take your hair down. I love seeing your curls bounce around when you dance."

She returned his look, biting her lip, before getting up from the table and walking toward the stairs, looking back over her shoulder to make sure James was following her, before removing her cap and shaking the springs of her hair free, as they cascaded down her back. She knew that he didn't like seeing just her curls bounce. Just two weeks ago she would have never found herself desiring him or flirting with him, but everything seemed different now. Out of his line of sight she felt her brow wrinkle, contemplating her feelings. She knew in her heart of hearts she wasn't supposed to feel anything for him and that the first meeting they had should be proof enough to not trust him, but she felt her defenses against him slowly lowering, just enough to be comfortable trusting that he wouldn't hurt her again.

She entered the bedroom, already awash in candlelight and felt the heat rising off of the wax, beckoning her to remove her dress and stays. She resisted and stayed put on the other side of the room, observing James as he removed his frock and hung it on the knob of the wardrobe. He walked over to the dresser and took the violin out of its case, tuning it carefully before putting it up on his shoulder, "Any requests, my lady?"

"Do you know Woolly and Georgey?"

"No."

"What about Bloomsberry Market?"

"I regret I don't quite have Uncle David's repertoire. Did he play often for you?"

"Almost every night. But most nights he played the slower pieces because he... well he got tired and sick, some times. That's why I'm so happy you can play the faster dances."

"I try."

"You're very good, James. Really," she thought a moment, trying to remember a more popular song, "Can you play Portsmouth?"

He lifted the bow and drew out the first long note before running his fingers up and down the frets. Sophia smiled and bounced up and down before waiting for the measure to curtsy. He faced her as she spun around in the reel, holding her hand out toward James as though he were completing the other moves of the dance.

James watched her twirl around him, her skirts billowing out before spinning back around her hips. He wished that he could just put the instrument down to dance with her as she came back around, curtsying to him again before beginning another reel.

She turned, but this time the room turned faster than her. Sophia saw the dresser spin in front of her and the candles make a trail upward in her vision as she tried to catch her breath and balance all at once. A wave of nausea enveloped her and she fell toward the dresser, putting her hand out to catch herself. The ring in her ears almost drowned out James calling her name. The queasiness grew and she felt her vision start to go dark.

"Sophia!" he rushed over to her, haphazardly putting violin and bow on the dresser and caught her by the arm as she started to fall. He swept her up into his arms and worked his hand under her skirt as he walked quickly over to the bed, setting her down and taking her dress off over her head, "Don't worry, we'll get that contraption off of you. Damn that ridiculous stay... Sophia, can you hear me?"

"James?" she said weakly. Her skin felt clammy and the room still spun around, threatening to empty the supper from her stomach. Closing her eyes made it worse so she focused just on James's hand held against her stomach as his fingers worked fast to loosen the strings.

"Hang on. I'm trying to get you out of the stay. You started to faint," he cursed himself for making her wear that thing in the heat of August.

"I'm all right. I just was dizzy is all," she said as she felt him pull the hard fabric up off her abdomen. Her arms rose up again and she felt the cooling night air hit her chemise. Sophia took in a long breath, still feeling dizzy, "I'll be fine."

"Lie down," he said, lifting her legs up onto the bed. He pulled the pillows out to prop her up before standing to walk over to the other side of the bed and lie beside her. He removed his waistcoat to give himself more leverage and sat up next to her, stroking her forehead.

Sophia closed her eyes as the wave of nausea finally passed. "Trust me," she said quietly, "it had nothing to do with your playing."

James looked down at her to see her smile and knew that she would be all right. He laughed and carefully leaned down to kiss her cheek, relieved. Sophia tentatively brought her hand up to his face and leaned toward his lips, initiating a kiss.

They held each other close, Sophia fumbling with the placket of his breeches, as they lay on their side face to face. She untied the strings quickly, James letting her innocently work to free him. Her hands felt his flesh grow hard and hot under the fabric as she opened the placket and lifted his shirt out, grasping and pulling upward until her hands finally met bare skin. She traced shaking fingers downward until they met the curls of hair, and the thick silky flesh pulsing under her fingertips.

He let out a sigh against her lips, moving a hand down from her face to lift upward and squeeze a breast in his hand, pinching his fingers around the nipple. Sophia moaned around his invading tongue as she felt him lift up her waist and bottom, pushing the thin silk of her chemise up over the curve of her hips before lifting it over her arms quickly, feeling her let go of his cock with a dull thud against his stomach, allowing him to cast it to the floor.

Sophia's hands immediately returned to him and began to push the waist of his breeches downward before James took over and removed them, then pulled his shirt off, tossing both casually aside. He returned to her skin, electric and flushed, each exploring the hard lines and curves of the other's form. James looked deep into her eyes, holding her by the small of her back and curving his hand over the cheek of her ass, as his lips possessed hers once more.

He brought her leg around and over his, opening her sex to him. Sophia held his cock outward and started guiding it forward to where both of them needed him to be. With a slight thrust James entered Sophia, holding her from underneath as he slowly filled her. His eyes, dark gray with emotion, never left her gaze. He watched hers glint emerald green in the candlelight, as her lips remained partly open, panting in sensation and the intensity of his attention riveted only to Sophia.

James stilled himself within her, running his hand across her face as she finally broke her concentration on his face and sighed, her eyes closing, her channel fluttering around him as it relaxed around his shaft. He moved his hips forward pushing into contact with her as she held onto his shoulders, captured fully in his arms. Their movements were slight but powerful, every muscle and fiber alive. He was not all the way inside of her, but this position felt far more intimate; comforting and secure as he cradled her in his arms. He felt her push toward him, forcing him deeper inside of her. James wanted more and as their bodies lay twined together could sense her growing need for release.

Their lips made contact once more as James rolled Sophia under him, his body never separating from hers. She brought her legs up around his waist, hissing through her teeth as he sunk into her to the hilt. His finger reached forward to brush through the folds of her crease and rising up against her bud. He marveled at how slight a movement of his fingers could make her entire body arch up to him.

She moved her hands down and pushed against his buttocks, angling him even deeper, her feet resting on the back of his knees as he took her in long powerful strokes. He steadied himself for a moment as the waves of her orgasm began, experiencing her spasms around his flesh, drinking in her cries and wincing as her fingernails dug downward through the flesh of his lower back.

Overwhelmed, he began to move once more as she ended her crest, her thighs twitching around him as he made his final thrusts. He looked down at her flushed and heaving body then back up into her eyes before his rolled back, his neck craning back as he slammed into her one last time.

Sophia felt him spurt hot and deep of her, then blanched and looked up at him in shock at the words he had called out. He held her against him, gasping for air, and then looked down into her wide eyes before repeating in a steady voice what he had cried out to her at the height of pleasure, "I love you."

She could only stare up at him, "What?"

He moved his hand to her face and looked down at her, propped up on his elbow so he didn't crush her, "Sophia, I love you..."

"James..."

"...I know I have to earn your love..."

"...you can't..."

"...but I beg of you to give me the chance..."

"...you can't love me if you own me."

"...let me prove myself to you..."

"No!" she said, tears stinging her eyes as she fruitlessly pushed at his chest with her fists, struggling for him to release her. He groaned as he suddenly withdrew from her to let her roll away from him. He heard her sobbing, a knot forming in his chest.

"Sophia..."

She felt him come up behind her, holding her around the waist, his chin resting on her shoulder, "Please James, you don't love me. I am just a toy and possession for you. Probably one of many—"

"No," he leaned his forehead onto her back, "There is no one else. There hasn't been since I first laid eyes on you that day."

Sophia only shuddered again, her body heaving forward as she openly wept, her hands coming to her face. James shut his eyes and cursed himself for reminding her of their first meeting, at the same time as he felt his groin twitch in recollection. He cursed himself again. How could he have been so stupid?

"I'm sorry Sophia. Please, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," he whispered, fighting back the lump in his throat as he said the words, "Please..."

Exhausted, Sophia stopped crying. She felt him stroke her forehead and hair, calming her down. Her breathing came in shudders, "James, you can't love me if you own me. While you own me, how can you ever expect me to say that I love you back with any shred of honesty?"

James felt a small glimmer of hope at her words. Was there a possibility that she could return his feelings? He kissed her on the temple, ready to wait until morning for her to calm down. If he told her tonight what he was holding back from saying, then there was a chance he may lose her forever. He couldn't risk that, "Just sleep, my love. I don't expect you to return my feelings right now. Just know that they are real and that I will give you proof of it soon enough. All will be revealed in the morning."

He rocked her back and forth, stroking her arm as her body stopped recoiling from him. James trailed his hand up and down her arm as she started to nod off. She sniffled once more, and then fell limp into sleep.

James woke up with the sun and a sore lower back from where Sophia had dug her nails into his flesh. He rose out of bed to use the chamber pot and caught sight of his jacket on the floor. In the inner pocket lay the final letter from Uncle David. He looked over once at Sophia, then back at his name scrawled across the front.

She had taken care of the old man. Through his famous melancholy and drinking, his forbidden affairs. James thought back to when he had stayed in this house as a boy, learning from his uncle on how to succeed as a gentleman, and the cursing fight the last time he had seen David Farthing alive. He broke the wax seal and carefully unfolded the paper to look at the date. April 13, 1711. Over three years ago.

My dear nephew James,

I entrust that my dear friend Mr. Whitcomb has given you this letter as instructed, now that I am dead. If he has, then I would like to say that I regret we were unable to amend our relationship in life. I only hope that you can look upon me better now that I am gone.

The contents of this letter must be guarded closely. It is only in the safety of death that I can reveal their contents. Working at my farm is a woman, Ms. Sophia Latwicke, first born natural daughter of the Duke of Kent and raised in the manner of her birth until age nine, when she was abandoned by the Duke in an effort to stay in the good graces of Queen Anne's Jacobite handlers.

While I have entitled you with my tenant properties in Ashford, I plan to find a legal way to leave the farm to her. You will like her. The two of you are not so different as you may first think. Both of you had parents whom were dead before you could know them, and both of you were sacrificed by your remaining parent in pursuit of ambition...

Sophia opened one eye as James had stirred and saw him with a letter in his hand. She felt something twist inside of her. All this time that he had been here at the farm romancing her, she had forgotten to look for the letter that David had written entailing her the land. It was too late now. She lay perfectly still, paralyzed as he read on.

...While I certainly cannot undo the damage done to you by my sister's neglect of your person James, do not wallow in that pain and waste your life away, flitting from one woman to the next until you die of Spanish sickness or wind up in debtor's prison. Abandon your rakish ways.

I know your preferences for a partner almost as well as I know my own. God knows I had enough demonstrations of your baser desires in my household before our unfortunate falling out. I ask you to consider this woman, Sophia Latwicke de Grey. She has a kind and gentle heart and would make you a good wife. My last wish is that you, James, would treasure her and keep her well. Love for her may not come to you at first, but can develop over time...

James lowered the letter and looked back at the woman with whom he had shared his bed and bared his soul. His jaw clenched. She was bait for him. His uncle reached beyond the grave to rein him in even in death, knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist Sophia. James felt as though he'd been tricked, both of them pawns in his uncle's willful game to secure the farm and at last produce heirs to tie to the land.

Sophia watched his knuckles turn white and his teeth set on edge as he read the letter, and then shut her eyes when he looked up. She felt the same nausea begin to well up again as it had last night. Even from across the room with her eyes closed she could sense his anger rise within him. She would be cast out and ruined now, her heart cruelly undone, a village pariah. Her gorge started to rise and she knew she couldn't hold it back this time.

James watched as she flew out of bed and ran past him to the pot, kneeling down before heaving suddenly into the bowl. He shoved the letter back into his jacket pocket and turned to hold her hair back as she sputtered and gasped for air, "What's the matter?"

"I think," Sophia said between breaths, "it was last night's dinner..."

He stood up and walked over to the window. Sophia blanched, knowing that he was on the verge of saying something. She could feel it, her upper lip tightening. James drew inward. His uncle had taken in this woman, knowing full well that she would be too alluring for James. He couldn't stay here. He refused to play his part in his uncle's scheme to tie him down to Ashford, "I must go back to London."

Sophia's heart raced. He wasn't casting her out? Maybe she had been mistaken and he hadn't found David's letter. Perhaps he did love her. The notion sent a wellspring of unexpected and somewhat unwanted hope through her. She teetered on edge, waiting for his next words, "Back to London? But why—"

"I need to leave," he said, raising his voice, "Now!"

She felt an emptiness start to grow inside her, "What about what you said last night?"

The words cut through him like a knife. He closed his eyes, "Sophia..."

She backed away from him, toward the bed, sitting on his side of it with her ankles crossed. What an enticing picture she made. His uncle had chosen well. He felt his anger at him start to rise again, unwilling to turn it on her.

Without any more words, he put on his breeches and flung his shirt over his head. A paper floated out of his waistcoat pocket to the ground unseen by him. Sophia watched as he hurried about the room, quickly grabbing his personal effects, "James..."

He ignored Sophia, his teeth clenched as he grabbed his hat and walked through the bedroom door. She heard his feet pad down the stairs and wrapped the bed sheet around her, intent on following him down. She saw the paper laying on the ground and read down the text of a letter to the barrister.

..to bequeath my farm at Ashford to Ms. Sophia Latwicke de Grey...

Why would David be foolish enough to use her birth name? Did James think that she had known of the letter and was lying to him this whole time to leverage her way back into the society that had cast her out? She dropped the letter and ran after him to explain. He had put on his boots and was already walking outside as Sophia stood on the threshold, "James..."

He turned to look once at her his chest aching. Stop, you fool, the voice within him said. Take her back into the house. Love her..., the voice inside him said before it switched the voice of his uncle, ...marry her.

"Please don't go," tears ran down her face as she watched him quickly hitch together the carriage and fling open the gate, ignoring her cries.

"James!" she screamed. Impossible words hung back from her lips; please don't go. I love you. She collapsed in the doorway, sobbing.

He hopped into the seat of his chaise, unable to bear her sobs, tears stinging his eyes and cracked the whip. With a start he was off, hearing the feet of his horse meeting the ground in rhythm. Normally he would hear them drumming out the syllables of her name. But this time there was only one thing he could hear in their gait; Coward... you coward... you coward...

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Thank you everyone for your support and feedback! Look forward to the conclusion of this story, coming soon. I hope you've enjoyed this so far, and please vote or leave a comment. ~Sushi Taco