Behind the Courtesan - By Bronwyn Stuart Page 0,53

For anything.”

“Just until the child is born and then you can go anywhere you want. I just can’t have you out of my sight in case anything happens.” Matthew’s eyes held so much love, so much concern, Sophie had to look away.

Violet spoiled for an argument. “Women have borne children in fields in the open since the dawn of time. Mary lay down in a dirty barn. In other countries babies are born in filthy huts on the floor, on the decks of ships and worse. I will be fine and so will our child.”

“I don’t think you will win this fight, Matty.” Blake clapped his friend on the shoulder hard enough to warn him to drop it and Sophie coughed to cover her laughter. “The women have the upper hand.”

“Shall we dance?” Blake’s eyes told her he wanted to, but she wasn’t sure if he asked because he didn’t want her to stand with her back to the wall all night. There wasn’t a man here whose wife would let him dance with her, good wishes notwithstanding.

“Let me ask again. Sophie, I want to dance with you.”

“That wasn’t a question,” she murmured as the blush she feared warmed her cheeks.

“Then I don’t need you to say yes.” With that, he took her hand and dragged her to the middle of the straw-covered floor, her hem twisting about her ankles.

“You shouldn’t do this,” she told him.

“Why not?”

“You are supposed to be injured, for one.”

He shrugged. “I feel much better already.”

The music began and in all the places, of all the songs, it was a waltz. In a barn. In the country.

As the first lilting strains filled the timber barn, Blake stepped toward her, took her hand in his and with his other, pulled her toward him, closer and then closer again. “You’re safe here. Have fun.”

Right now, right there, everything was perfect. Or perhaps that was the ale talking. She’d lost count of those too. As Blake swung her from one end of the crowd to the other, the courtesan extraordinaire actually laughed with real pleasure. She didn’t have to force merriment on this night. The simple knot that tethered her curls to her nape loosened until her black hair shook free and swished around her shoulders and still she laughed.

* * *

She was gorgeous. Blake couldn’t tell her in words just how much she had helped him over the past week but he could make sure she had a night of fun. Everywhere he looked he saw his friends delighted at the way she had rushed to his aid. More than cooking and running his inn, she’d kept everyone happy until he was better and could return to doing what he enjoyed. He owed her this night.

His problem now was, he loved having her there. He enjoyed watching Sophie work. He wasn’t taking a perverse satisfaction out of seeing her break her back; Dominic was doing all the heavy lifting, but it was nice to see the pleasure in her smile when a recipe came together or when she’d helped a sow deliver her piglets.

Blake tamped down that line of thought. He’d fallen in love with her once before and it was not going to happen again. It couldn’t. He’d only just survived when she’d left by putting one foot in front of the other, taking more beatings for his “soft” heart and sullenness. Until he’d grown bigger than his uncle. By then he was beyond being upset. Blake long ago had hardened his heart to love, to family and to women. They were nothing but trouble.

Beautiful trouble, he thought as he watched the curve of Sophie’s throat as she laughed, felt the whisper of her silky hair over his hand when he turned her.

“May I cut in?”

Blake stopped so suddenly, he had to tighten his grip on his dance partner to stop her from falling to the floor. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy, Blakiston?”

“It doesn’t appear so, no.”

Blake dropped Sophie’s hand, his own fist clenched, ready to set the duke on his arse for interrupting possibly the best moment of his life. When Blakiston’s mouth stretched into a vile grin, Blake wanted to wipe it from his face with the back of his hand. Or perhaps a pistol. At dawn.

“Blake,” Sophie warned. “Be nice.”

“Yes, Blake, be nice.”

A gentle squeeze by Sophie and he stepped away. To hit a duke in front of so many witnesses would leave his inn without an owner for a lot longer