A Taste of Paradise Read Free Page B

Times
tomorrow.”
    Since Rayford didn’t react to the news as she’d expected, Sophia shrugged and left him sitting at the table. She went directly to her room, where she busied herself with various chores until her eyes began to droop. Then she undressed, washed, cleaned her teeth and pulled on a linen nightdress that had turned transparent after countless washings. Her final act before climbing into bed was to build up the fire with the last of the coal in the scuttle.
    Squirming beneath the quilt to find a comfortable position, Sophia wondered if she would receive any replies to her ad. Aware that it would take a day or two for replies to reach her by return mail, she fell asleep looking forward to achieving full independence from Rayford. His despicable request that she prostitute herself on his behalf had been the last straw. Her disgust for him had finally reached the point of no return.
    As sleep claimed Sophia, she had no idea that Rigby had arrived and was being welcomed by Caldwell.
    â€œIs she waiting for me?” Rigby asked eagerly.
    â€œNot exactly,” Caldwell muttered. “She’s probably sleeping. I’m leaving it up to you to tame her. She refused to cooperate, but I don’t see that as an impediment. She always was a stubborn chit. A man of your experience should be able to handle one small reluctant woman.”
    Rigby, decked out like a dandy and smelling strongly of perfume, appeared pleased by Caldwell’s compliment. Puffing out his chest, he said, “Point out her room so I can get on with it.”
    â€œIn a moment. The servants are gone, and I am about to leave myself. But first, I’ll have my vowels.”
    â€œDo you think I’m stupid? You’ll have them tomorrow, after I’ve had my night with your fetching sister. If you think to trick me, there will be hell to pay. I’m an unforgiving man with a long memory.”
    â€œNo tricks, I promise,” Caldwell said. “Sophia’s chamber is upstairs, the first door on the right. I wish you a pleasant good night. I don’t intend returning until tomorrow morning, at which time you can give me my vowels.”
    After Caldwell’s hasty exit, Rigby started up the stairs, all but drooling over the prospect of bedding Sophia. He’d had a whore or two while visiting London, but they were hags compared to Miss Sophia Carlisle. If she turned out to be a virgin, he’d count his bargain with Caldwell well worth the monetary loss.
    It wasn’t as if he were a pauper. He had made a fortune in the slave trade out of Jamaica.
    Sophia stirred in her sleep. Not fully awake, she lay still, listening for whatever had disturbed her. When she heard footsteps in the hallway, she assumed it was Rayford seeking his bed and rolled over, hunkering down into the warm feather bed. Then she heard the door open and the latch fall back into place as it closed.
    She sat up, squinting into darkness alleviated only by the dying embers in the grate. “Rayford, is that you?”
    No answer was forthcoming.
    The footsteps advanced, moving closer to the bed. “Rayford! What are you doing in here?”
    Sophia felt a shimmer of panic when a man emerged from the shadows and passed before the hearth, his stout body outlined in the flickering light. She knew instantly that it wasn’t Rayford, for the short, stout figure couldn’t possibly belong to her tall, slim stepbrother. When she finally realized who had invaded her room, she opened her mouth and let loose a piercing scream.
    â€œWe’re alone in the house, so there’s no one here to hear you, my dear,” Rigby said as he struck a light to the candle on her nightstand.
    Stunned, Sophia stared at him. His mouth was slack, his eyes bright with lust. “Get out!”
    â€œOh, no. I’m paying dearly for you and I won’t be denied.”
    â€œIf you’re talking about your unholy bargain with my stepbrother,