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as much of her as possible available to his sight and touch.
The idea of running into Julian while wearing it was almost enough to send her hiding beneath her blankets, but she wasn't about to let his presence in her house interfere with her usual habits. She was going to go to the little room that served as her library, and she was going to sit by the fire and enjoy a glass of wine as she read.
There was very little chance that Julian would stumble upon her sanctuary and even less chance that he would stay there if he did. No doubt he was in his room either writing one of those morose poems of his, or he was asleep— his feet dangling over the edge of the little bed.
The idea of Julian being so uncomfortable made Sophia smile. She imagined those long feet of his, bare and blue with cold, sticking out from beneath the quilts as he shivered and sniffled his way through the night.
Unfortunately, she also imagined the bare legs attached to those feet. And with the thought of bare legs, came the thought of a bare everything else.
"Idiot," she mumbled, fastening her robe around her. The man barged into her house, practically accused her of trying to corrupt his sister, and how did she react? She pictured him naked! And she couldn't even picture him looking disfigured and misshapen. She had to imagine him as perfect and proportionate as only Julian Rexley could dare be.
It was humiliating, degrading and just plain wrong . Surely it was some kind of defect in her character that made her think such improper thoughts when it came to Julian. She thought that side of her nature had been duly repressed by her marriage. Edmund had been the only man to know her so… intimately , despite all her earlier efforts with Julian. She had thought that finally knowing what all the urges were about would put an end to this longing, but it only seemed to make it worse. She knew what kinds of things a man could do to a woman, the pleasure he could give, and it had only taken one look at Julian to set her wondering what delights he was capable of bestowing.
Just the thought of it made her tingle in places that hadn't tingled in quite some time.
Opening the door to her room, Sophia tiptoed into the dark corridor, avoiding by instinct every creaky floor-board and stair on her way to the library, where Mrs. Ellis would have left a fire burning in the hearth. Sometimes the dear woman even had a glass of wine waiting as well.
The library door squeaked softly as she pushed it open. Light and warmth from the fire greeted her as she stepped inside. Entering this room was more like entering another world, it felt so different from the rest of the house. The library made the drafts and uneven floors and smoking chimneys bearable. This room gave her the strength to shoulder anything Charles threw at her.
After closing the door behind her, Sophia turned toward her chair and froze.
Julian Rexley sat in her favorite chair, a book in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. Her glass of wine. He was dressed in nothing but a shirt that was open at the throat, exposing a shameful amount of tan chest and the curly hair that covered it, and trousers that pulled taut across the leg he draped over the arm of the chair. His feet were bare and the glimpse of hairy shin that showed above reminded Sophia of the thoughts she'd had in her bedroom. Thoughts that had her attention flitting back to the spot between his legs where the fabric of his trousers stretched in such a way that her heart tripped at the sight.
Somehow, she managed to lift her gaze to his face before she completely humiliated herself— if she hadn't already, by looking him over like a thirsty woman looking at water. He stared at her expectantly, as though he thought her there for no other reason but to see him.
That was it .
"Get out." As the words reverberated in her head, she couldn't believe that she had actually said them.
His expression would be forever frozen in Sophia's memory as one of
The idea of running into Julian while wearing it was almost enough to send her hiding beneath her blankets, but she wasn't about to let his presence in her house interfere with her usual habits. She was going to go to the little room that served as her library, and she was going to sit by the fire and enjoy a glass of wine as she read.
There was very little chance that Julian would stumble upon her sanctuary and even less chance that he would stay there if he did. No doubt he was in his room either writing one of those morose poems of his, or he was asleep— his feet dangling over the edge of the little bed.
The idea of Julian being so uncomfortable made Sophia smile. She imagined those long feet of his, bare and blue with cold, sticking out from beneath the quilts as he shivered and sniffled his way through the night.
Unfortunately, she also imagined the bare legs attached to those feet. And with the thought of bare legs, came the thought of a bare everything else.
"Idiot," she mumbled, fastening her robe around her. The man barged into her house, practically accused her of trying to corrupt his sister, and how did she react? She pictured him naked! And she couldn't even picture him looking disfigured and misshapen. She had to imagine him as perfect and proportionate as only Julian Rexley could dare be.
It was humiliating, degrading and just plain wrong . Surely it was some kind of defect in her character that made her think such improper thoughts when it came to Julian. She thought that side of her nature had been duly repressed by her marriage. Edmund had been the only man to know her so… intimately , despite all her earlier efforts with Julian. She had thought that finally knowing what all the urges were about would put an end to this longing, but it only seemed to make it worse. She knew what kinds of things a man could do to a woman, the pleasure he could give, and it had only taken one look at Julian to set her wondering what delights he was capable of bestowing.
Just the thought of it made her tingle in places that hadn't tingled in quite some time.
Opening the door to her room, Sophia tiptoed into the dark corridor, avoiding by instinct every creaky floor-board and stair on her way to the library, where Mrs. Ellis would have left a fire burning in the hearth. Sometimes the dear woman even had a glass of wine waiting as well.
The library door squeaked softly as she pushed it open. Light and warmth from the fire greeted her as she stepped inside. Entering this room was more like entering another world, it felt so different from the rest of the house. The library made the drafts and uneven floors and smoking chimneys bearable. This room gave her the strength to shoulder anything Charles threw at her.
After closing the door behind her, Sophia turned toward her chair and froze.
Julian Rexley sat in her favorite chair, a book in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. Her glass of wine. He was dressed in nothing but a shirt that was open at the throat, exposing a shameful amount of tan chest and the curly hair that covered it, and trousers that pulled taut across the leg he draped over the arm of the chair. His feet were bare and the glimpse of hairy shin that showed above reminded Sophia of the thoughts she'd had in her bedroom. Thoughts that had her attention flitting back to the spot between his legs where the fabric of his trousers stretched in such a way that her heart tripped at the sight.
Somehow, she managed to lift her gaze to his face before she completely humiliated herself— if she hadn't already, by looking him over like a thirsty woman looking at water. He stared at her expectantly, as though he thought her there for no other reason but to see him.
That was it .
"Get out." As the words reverberated in her head, she couldn't believe that she had actually said them.
His expression would be forever frozen in Sophia's memory as one of
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