A/N: Personal plug for me... The single greatest gift you can buy for family and friends this holiday season is either THE VIKING STONES or A HEART THAT WAITS. Forget the holiday rush! I have ya covered! And remember a portion of royalties always goes to charity.

Paladin104

Sophia giggled softly and wrapped her arms around Erik's back. "That tickles."

"I know," he replied against her neck. His breath now smelled like coffee, and she wondered if his lips were sugary sweet.

She turned her head to the side, still beaming inside and out. "Then why do you insist on tickling me?"

"Because I want to hear you laugh." He pressed his lips to the sensitive flesh beneath her ear and she contained a squeal of ecstasy. He threatened to drive her mad each time he kissed her there, but she loved every moment.

"What if I did it to you?" she murmured.

He paused, breathing harder than before. His tongue flicked out and touched her ear, which she now wanted to do to him. When he didn't protest her words, she pressed against his shoulders and made him bend to her height.

While she untied his cravat, she watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. She purposely caressed his neck with the backs of her fingers before she rubbed her lips against his warm skin.

"How about this?" she said in a breathy whisper.

At first he stiffened to her gentle kisses along his throat, but then he exhaled. He swallowed and murmured something under his breath but she didn't quite hear him. She didn't need to hear him. All she needed was to feel his chin rise and give her access to his flesh.

Tenderly she kissed him, nuzzled his freshly shaven chin. He smelled faintly of pine, which complemented his own masculine scent. As if by instinct, she gently nibbled him and discovered that his jaw was sensitive to her touch.

A soft chuckle left his lips and she clutched his shoulders tighter than before to steady him, fearing he would lower his chin and ruin her fun. As far as she was concerned, her enjoyment had only just begun and wouldn't end until she made him laugh and writhe in the same way he made her react.

"Does it make you shiver?" she asked.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, his heavy-lidded gaze trained on hers. "It does."

"Good."

"You sound quite devious, Mademoiselle."

"Me? Never."

"You are as innocent as Mademoiselle Citrine?"

Sophia laughed as he turned her, gently twirled her over the thick carpet. Her head grew light, her feet barely touching the floor.

"Clearly you don't know a thing about Citrine."

"I only want to know you." He kissed her lips again and rubbed her back, drawing her comfortably closer. This time she was prepared to feel the evidence of his arousal. Her mind wandered, wondering what he would feel like if she touched him. The thought made her blush and she was thankful that he kissed her.

"How much better can you know me?" she asked between kisses.

He paused and studied her a moment. "Much better," he answered at last.

"Oh." Her stomach tightened. She held her breath as he once again turned the tables and kissed the underside of her wrist. The color of his eyes had changed from pale green to a darker, more seductive shade of emerald.

"Sophia," he whispered as his hand snaked around her and held her tight. He rubbed his nose against hers and kissed her softly, tenderly. The world disappeared when she looked into his eyes, felt herself locked in his warm embrace. She didn't know what it was, but she only wanted to be here, with him.

"Yes, Erik?" she murmured.

"Sophia, I love you."

-o-

Horror. Rejection. Denial. He waited for her to turn away or laugh or complain that she was tired, but she didn't move from his grasp. Her lips formed the sweetest, most loving smile he'd ever seen in his life. At last he was able to breathe, to register his spoken words.

He did love her. Perhaps he'd always loved, and now that they were alone together, he knew without a doubt that there was no one on his mind except for her.

"I love you too," she whispered.

He smiled and gave a sigh.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice almost dreamy.

"I'm relieved," he said. "Because I'm not alone in my affections."

"Well, of course not. You make it far too easy."

"Excuse me?"

The blush in her cheeks deepened. "You're too charming not to love," she replied. "And the way you have kissed me…a proper lady cannot divulge how she feels with such careful…attention."

He barely allowed her to finish before he kissed her hard on the lips and ran his hands from her waist up to her back. Deft fingers caressed her shoulders and stroked the curve of her full breast. She trembled as he traced around her nipple, groaned as he rubbed the heel of his hand over the hardened peak.

"Tell me how you feel," he murmured between kisses, alternating between light and hard caresses.

"Like I can barely breathe," she panted, her back arching. "How do you feel?"

"Like I want to breathe in only you."

As if she knew what he needed as well she stepped closer and her belly rubbed against his painful erection. Feverishly he struggled with the buttons on the back of her dress, his fingers suddenly too large to push each one through its respective hole.

But he needed to touch her bare flesh, to hold her in the way men were entitled to savor women. He couldn't stop himself. Every inch of his flesh ached to touch and taste her, to give her more and more of his unwavering attention.

He had her dress unbuttoned to the middle of her back and ran his fingers along her whalebone corset when she suddenly pulled away, her chest heaving.

"We cannot make love," she blurted out. At once he froze, afraid he'd hurt her in a moment of passion. Her gaze dropped, her swollen lips forming a frown. "I…I apologize. It's just something my mother said to me a long time ago."

His eyes narrowed, his breaths still quick and harsh. "What did she say to you?"

Sophia pursed her lips. "She said there are three important days in a woman's life. The day she is born and her mother sees her for the first time, the day she is married, and the day her first child is born. For as long as I can remember, I've always known my wedding night would be special. I guess I want it to stay special. I'm sorry."

"I'm not." He kissed her again, refusing to give in to his disappointment.

"Are you certain?"

"Not completely." He chuckled and ran his fingers along the back of her neck.

"Please understand—"

"Sophia, I understand."

"But you're disappointed." She shifted her weight and chewed on her bottom lip.

"I have you. How could I be disappointed?"

She grinned and wiggled in his grasp again. "There you go again, being romantic and irresistible."

He started to pull away but his sleeve caught on her dress and she jerked with him. Together they froze and stared at one another.

"Is it your cufflinks?" she asked.

"I think so. Is it your hair?"

"No. I would have screamed if you'd pulled my hair. It must be my dress."

He gave a curt nod. "Hold still."

"I am."

Erik gave two hard tugs and Sophia gritted her teeth. She clung to his shoulders and shook her head.

"Don't move," he said.

"I'm only moving because you're shaking me!"

"If I wrench it hard enough—"

"Then you'll tear my dress. Please, I implore you, salvage this dress. If Aunt Anne were to walk in and see you've torn my dress she'll probably walk to the Turro Estate and order Philippe to return at once."

He barely listened to her words as he felt along his wrist and attempted to figure out how he was physically connected to her. Even if she said she wasn't moving she was. Each time she breathed, he lost his grasp on the string caught on his cufflink and her button.

"I should have known," Sophia muttered.

"Known what?" He attempted to look over her shoulder. "Hold still."

"That this would happen."

"That I'd catch my cufflink on your dress?" He found himself slightly taken aback but completely amused by her words.

"Well, maybe not that exactly…but something…unexpected."

He smiled, still unable to unravel the thread and afraid to pull it loose and tear her dress. "Why is that?"

She gave a weary sigh. "I just can't seem to stay out of trouble."

"A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Not at all." Her forehead rested against his chest, and the complete sensuality of the moment was ruined when she burst out laughing. Her mirth was so genuine that she barely managed to stifle a snort, which made him chuckle. As much as he craved intimacy, there was no denying how much he enjoyed her presence.

"It's not funny. I have a very serious condition with my nose."

Her tone was so stern that he didn't know what to say. Before he could reply, she started laughing again and wrapped her arms around him.

"You're not telling the truth, are you?"

"No, I'm not. I'm simply terrible."

"Terrible? No. But what has come over you?" He tried winding the string counter clockwise.

She paused and gazed up at him. "Honestly, I think I'm always this way. You just have something about you that makes it worse."

"There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all."

She merely smiled wanly and rested her head against his chest again. "You just don't want the blame. Or you don't see it."

"See what?"

"I don't know."

"Then there's nothing to see. You're beautiful and you're kind. You cannot convince me that you're not the most perfect woman in the entire world."

"The world is large."

"And full of people who are not kind, Sophia, not kind at all." He held her close for a moment and wondered why her mood had suddenly changed, why her playful demeanor had sobered.

At last she nodded. "Perhaps that is true."

The string finally came free and he pulled his hand away from her back. "There."

"Did you tear it?"

"No."

She reached behind her back and gasped. "Oh, you must have undone almost all of the buttons. Here." She turned away and stood straight as a board. "Help me. Quickly, before Aunt Anne and Citrine—"

The front door opened and closed. Sophia nearly jumped out of her skin—and her dress.