Atonement

Chapter 8

Fabien knew the second Sophie awakened. He'd detected the change in her breathing, had accurately judged the slow sigh that signalled the dawn of wakefulness. He'd also heard the faint gasp she'd elicited upon discovering him beside her. Interested to know what she'd do, he'd remained still, thinking she'd most likely attempt to get as far from him as possible. What he had not anticipated was finding her staring at him with an open, innocent curiosity, the likes of which no one of sound mind had ever directed towards him. Most certainly not someone of Sophie's ilk; her kind usually ran from him, with good reason.

There were generally two types of women who sought his company – those who thought that getting close to him would procure the king's favour, and those who wanted the thrill of a dalliance with a man everyone considered dangerous and perhaps even a little unhinged. The former he dismissed and the latter he indulged only for as long as it suited his purposes.

He was well aware that none of those women truly wanted him, and only coveted that which they thought he represented. In truth, it did not bother him. If he had any desire for female companionship, he chose a discrete widow away from court whom he knew wanted nothing from him other than the coin he left with her when their liaison was at an end. He'd unwisely started an affair with Beatrice de Clermont because he'd allowed himself to be taken in by her charms, to be wooed by her cunning and beauty. And he'd almost paid the price.

So when he'd opened his eyes and realised that Sophie was keenly observing him, his first reaction had been a surge of triumph, his suspicion of her motives finally paying dividends. But before he could confront her, he'd paused and noted the way she'd been taking his measure - as though she were cataloguing his every feature and stowing it in some forbidden place for later retrieval. To his utter wonder she exhibited no outward fear, no hostility, not even a tentative lick of unease. There was only the gentle whisper of her gaze as it wandered over him, somehow light and piercing all at once. Fabien understood the anxiety he induced in people. He counted on it, lived for it. But she'd seemed perfectly content. All he'd sensed was an inexplicable curiosity and something else, something more alarming and disturbing and affecting. Something dangerous.

He might not want to acknowledge any attraction to her, but his body had no such compulsion. Looking soft and irresistibly tousled from sleep, her cheeks were as pink as two ripe plums and equally as inviting. Worse was where her chemise had slipped down while she'd slept, one bare creamy shoulder exposed, taunting him, teasing him, daring him to continue feigning indifference. Steeped in the golden glow of the hearth's dying embers, Sophie de Clermont was temptation incarnate.

"Seen enough?" he rasped, trying to best his baser male instincts.

Her eyes flew to his, embarrassment making her cheeks grow rosier, her mouth parting in horror. "I-I...was not expecting to see you...here."

"Clearly."

The room was still as they stared. They were enemies, forced together out of necessity. They disliked, distrusted and disapproved of one another entirely and yet there was something else there, some deep, palpable energy that swirled between them, rearing its head and begging to be acknowledged at the most inopportune moments. He felt it, clawing its way inside of him like a tree grasping for purchase as its roots sank deeper into the earth.

It was that feeling of suffocation, of his chest closing in on itself that prompted him to move before he did something rash. Tearing his gaze from hers, he rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed. Grabbing his boots, he shoved his feet into them, then stood to pull them up to his thighs.

Behind him, he could hear the bed linens rustling as Sophie moved. Walking over to the washstand, he splashed his face with the remnants of water he'd not used in his toilette the night before. The first dowsing was chilled but refreshing as the droplets raced down his face and neck. Grabbing a towel, he dabbed the excess off while making his way towards the window.