Merry Christmas Leniarianna!
Title: Getting What You Want
To: leniarianna
From: ???
Summary: You learn quickly in Slytherin House to use every resource at your disposal.
Words: 2548
"Capper."
Sophie slowed and turned around, lifting her gaze. A heavy pair of Quidditch boots, heavily muscled legs, thick corduroy pants molding over them tightly. Lean hips, an untucked jersey hanging half open over a broadly muscled chest, peppered with thick, dark hair. A strong chin, shadowed with a thick dusting of dark hair. His nose had been broken more than once, set back into place with a negligence that gave him an arresting profile. Hard green eyes framed by thick, black lashes - full of sin and everything else that mothers tell their daughters to avoid like the plague. She tilted her head as she finally reached his eyes, the bland mask she'd perfected after seven years of Slytherin House politics hiding the smile that played at the edges of her mouth. "Flint." He was as hard as his name - solid and unyielding.
The barest hint of a smirk creased his face and he stepped closer, the exhilarating scent of hot, powerful male wafting towards her. He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, powerful arms crossing over the broad expanse of his chest. His voice was a deep rumble and it sent shivers dancing down her spine. "Are you going to give me an answer I like today?"
The smile she'd been hiding slipped loose and teased playfully at the edge of her mouth. "Perhaps. What answer are you looking for?"
He moved so quickly that she barely had time to gasp, hauled up against that broad chest, his big hand splayed wide against her arse, pressing her tightly against him. His breath skated across her face, mingling with her own. "I don't like games Sophie."
She braced her hands on his shoulders and tried to push against his hold. He grunted and tightened his grip, his left hand sliding up to grasp her hip, bringing her even closer. "Marcus, you're hurting me," she said softly. His grip loosened fractionally and she breathed deeply. "And we're in public."
He ducked them back into an alcove as the Common Room started to fill with younger students. The darkness surrounded them, the light seeping into the alcove from the flickering torches giving his face a sinister cast. Sophie sighed. "Must you always be so brutish?"
He growled, his chest rumbling beneath her hand. She chuckled softly, flexing her fingers against his chest. "Yes, I guess you must. Now, I'm guessing you wish to talk about the future?" His head dipped in a terse nod and she tilted her head once more. "I thought we'd settled that."
"How could we, when you won't give me a damn answer?"
"Of course we did. You know I cannot make the decision on my own," she said, gazing up at him. "My father must approve as well."
Marcus scowled deeply. "I presented the suit last month."
Sophie sighed. "I cannot say when he will decide - you know the man lives to vex me." She waved her hand as a wicked grin danced on her lips. "But we can spend time together - at the Debutante Ball perhaps?"
"I don't dance."
"Yes, you will" she said, bracing her hands on his shoulders so she could lift up to nuzzle under his chin. If he hadn't been holding her, she'd never have been able to reach. At six foot four, Marcus towered nearly a foot above her. "Because it's the only way right now for us to be together."
"Don't start what you can't finish." His words were harsh, almost angry.
Her tongue darted out and traced the outline of his adam's apple. "I don’t intend to."
"Sophie." Her name was a growled warning.
Ignoring him, she nuzzled under his chin once more, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses up to his ear. "Marcus."
With a low groan, he pinned her against the wall, his lips finding hers unerringly in the dark. Her mouth opened under the intense pressure. His kiss was devouring, hungry. She met him boldly, her tongue winding around his, teasing. Her fingers wove through the short strands of hair at his nape, her nails grazing the sensitive skin as the kiss deepened.
A bright light intruding into the darkened alcove made them leap apart, squinting. Sophie straightened her robe automatically, tugging her skirt down underneath it surreptitiously. The light moved as Marcus batted the wand that was producing it.
“I thought I’d find you in here.”
Sophie turned to face Melusine Flemming, a seventh year prefect, and her rival since their first days at Hogwarts. “Jealous Mellie, that he'll never be yours?”
The pale blonde girl’s pinched features tightened in anger as Marcus chuckled. His hand settled possessively around Sophie’s waist, drawing her back against him.
"Careful Sophie, I'll take points."
Marcus sneered at her. "You wouldn't dare."
"She might not, but I certainly would." Marcus groaned under his breath as Professor Snape came striding up behind the skinny blonde viper, his cape billowing menacingly. "Snogging in the alcoves again?"
Sophie gave him a saccharine smile. "Just congratulating Marcus on his win for Slytherin today, Professor."
Snape's face pinched into a tight moue, almost like he'd smelled something unpleasant. "I'm certain your father wouldn't approve Miss Capper."
Sophie flipped her long, sable curls behind her shoulder as her expression hardened. "My father could give a damn about what I do."
Snape's eyebrow arched and a sinister smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Shall we find out?"
Sophie met his gaze coolly. “I believe they are abroad sir, until July. But I’m certain the elves could reach them, interrupt their trip if you’d like.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed further and he harrumphed under his breath. “Detention, Miss Capper, tonight. My stock of bubotuber puss is running low.”
Melusine snickered and Marcus shot her an icy glare. She spun around with a huff and marched off as Sophie sighed. She leaned back against Marcus. "I really hate her."
"It's only two more months," he said, squeezing her hip.
"Thank Salazar, I'm fed up with the whole mess of them," she said, turning around and sliding her arms around his waist. She grinned slyly up at him. "Now, I have about two hours before I have to go slave in Snape's workshop, how're you planning on keeping me occupied?"
He gave her a lascivious grin. "I could probably think of something."
***
Sophie spun in front of the mirror, watching with a critical eye as the snowy white silk swirled around her ankles. The robes were exquisitely tailored, highlighting her small but curvaceous bosom and gently rounded hips. It fell to the floor in an elegant swirl of silk, bare of decoration save for a single line of diamonds around the squared, strapless neckline. Her shoulders were bare and she slipped a delicate Alsatian lace shrug on, the sleeves coming to a rest three inches above her elbows. Long white silk gloves buttoned up her arms, encasing them snugly.
Lifting her wand, she aimed it at the gleaming mass of curls atop her head and murmured one more heavy duty sticking charm. It wouldn't do to have the whole thing come tumbling down before she was ready for it to.
The clock in the common room chimed four pm and she smiled into the mirror (the other girls will be green with envy) one last time before reaching for her tiny silk purse. The other seventh year girls would all be meeting in the common room and then transfer over to the Ball via the floo. Melusine's mother had been beside herself when she'd heard that news, insisting that her precious daughter's white robes would be ruined by the soot.
To make her shut up, Snape had set the elves to scrubbing the hearth with tiny brushes until every speck of soot disappeared. Justicina had inspected it herself with Professor Snape just this morning and with a haughty sniff, declared it fit.
Sophie slipped into line behind Magreta Bole and Veronica Pucey, both of whom gave her wide grins. Veronica winked. "Must be nice to know that you've got someone waiting for you on the other side."
Sophie gave her a Cheshire grin. "Mayhap, if Father decides that Marcus meets all his criteria."
"Surely you can't go wrong with one of the oldest names in Wizarding," Magreta said firmly. "The Flint family goes back forever, pure as pure gets."
Sophie shrugged lightly. "Father and I have differing opinions on what makes a Wizard the right choice."
Veronica's expression turned serious. "Surely he wouldn't want someone with," her voice dropped to a horrified whisper, "the mark."
"Bite your tongue!" Magreta said sharply, nudging Veronica hard with her elbow. The tall brunette straightened, turning to give her friend an icy glare. Her expression smoothed into one of placidity as Professor Snape entered the Common Room, Justicina Flemming hot on his heels.
"Ladies, is everyone here?" Justicina glanced hurriedly over the other girls before turning to Melusine, fussing over her full, belled skirt. Sophie bit back a snicker. Melusine looked like one of those doll cakes - a huge voluminous skirt with a skinny doll stuck in the center. The pale white made her skin look sallow, her hair a brittle yellow against the mass of froufrou and fluff that her mother had made her wear.
Snape gave them a dour once over before gesturing impatiently to the house elf stationed beside the hearth. The tiny being reached for a handful of floo and with a whoosh, flames filled the cavernous opening. Tossing in the floo, the elf stepped back as the first girl stepped up. One by one, they entered the hearth, disappearing in a rush of emerald flames.
***
Marcus paced anxiously, tugging at his cravat. He hated wearing dress robes. At least his weren't flounced with lace, or inset with anything that would have made him look like a poof. His gaze drifted to where Padraic Almonacy was prancing around in deep navy velvet, a froth of lace at his neck. "Bloody nuisance," he muttered, inserting a thick finger into his collar and tugging once more. The robes he wore were exquisitely, if severely tailored. Fine, black worsted wool fit him like a glove, tailored to highlight his brawny frame.
"But you look marvelous."
Marcus spun around, his jaw slackening as his gaze swept over Sophie. She looked like an angel, fair glowing in the snow white dress. Her dark hair gleamed in the light from hundreds of flickering candles, and her eyes danced with merriment.
Slapping her fan lightly on his arm, she stepped closer, winding her arm around his much larger one. "Surely I in these robes haven't rendered you speechless. I was so hoping the sight of what I've got on underneath would do that."
His mouth snapped shut and a wicked smile danced on her lips. "It'll be worth the dancing, I promise," she said, leaning closer.
An arched brow and a low growl was her answer. Sophie laughed delightedly. "I do love vexing you Marcus," she said gaily, tugging him gently towards the dance floor.
He let her have her way and before she could admonish him, he grasped her lightly around the waist and swung her around, leading them into the first steps of a lively jig.
"Just remember, revenge is sweet, baby."
Sophie shivered at the banked heat in his gaze. "I'm banking on it," she breathed, her hands tightening on his forearms as they swirled and spun.
The rest of the evening passed swiftly, one dance sliding into the next, until they were both breathless. A loud gong sounded and the doors to the buffet room were thrown open, mouthwatering smells emanating throughout the room.
Just as Marcus was about to lead Sophie into the room, a hand closed around his elbow. He turned around to find Denton Capper standing behind him, looking less than pleased.
"Father," Sophie said, her smile overbright.
"Sophie, get something to eat, the young man and I have things to discuss," Denton said, glaring at her.
"If by things, you mean my future, then I'm not going anywhere," Sophie said, her tone laced with steel.
"Damned insolent chit, I warned your mother about sending you off to that… that…"
"School?" Sophie inserted, her fingers tightening on Marcus's arm.
"You bloody know what I mean!" Denton snapped, and then glanced around, straightening his robes as people glanced their way. "Fine, if you must be involved, then let's go someplace quieter. I don't need the entire world to know my business."
Spinning on his heel, he stomped away, fully expecting them both to follow. Sophie glanced up at Marcus. His face was impassive, save for the tic in his cheek. "I think we'll like what he has to say," she said softly.
His gaze dropped to hers and his brow lifted. "Been scheming?"
She gave him an innocent look. "Planning for one's future is never scheming love."
His bark of laughter echoed in the room, and Denton spun around, the surprised look on his face giving way to anger as he realized they'd not followed. Marcus shrugged his shoulders and led Sophie towards where her father stood, nearly quaking with anger. He spun around once more and stomped his way through the throng, nearly shoving one poor girl into the musicians pit.
He led them to a quiet room off the main hallway, closing the door firmly behind them and twisting the lock. Marcus let go of Sophie and slipped his hand into the pocket of his robes, gripping his wand.
Denton marched to the windows, muttering not quite under his breath about uppity girls and how very happy he would be to be rid of her.
Marcus cleared his throat, drawing his attention. "May I presume then that you're agreeing to my suit?"
"What?" Denton spun around, glaring. His gaze darted to Sophie and he swallowed hard before nodding his head. "Yes, the chit's yours, and good riddance. You'll not get a knut more than her dowry, and once your wed, she's your responsibility, I don't want to see you on my doorstep, hand outstretched for my fortune."
Marcus reached for Sophie's hand, curling his fingers warmly around hers. "I accept, and we won't expect you to put yourself out by coming to the wedding. Sign the contract and consider our business concluded - forevermore. Flint's take care of their own," he said firmly, drawing Sophie closer.
Denton's face closed off and he nodded, pulling out a rolled sheet of parchment. Thrusting it at Marcus, he gave Sophie one more cold stare before leaving them alone.
"Not that I'm complaining, but what the hell just happened?"
Sophie's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Father got a taste of his own medicine."
"Beg pardon?"
"I caught him with someone he'd rather not have society know he dallied with. I threatened to go public with the details if he didn't agree to your suit."
Marcus laughed, long and loud. "Remind me never to brass you off, eh?"
Sophie looked up at Marcus and began to laugh. "I love you," she said, hugging him tightly.
"Of course you do sweets, I'm just that kind of man," Marcus said, his breath skating over her lips as he bent his head.
"What kind of man?"
"Yours," he said, his lips covering hers.
To: leniarianna
From: ???
Summary: You learn quickly in Slytherin House to use every resource at your disposal.
Words: 2548
"Capper."
Sophie slowed and turned around, lifting her gaze. A heavy pair of Quidditch boots, heavily muscled legs, thick corduroy pants molding over them tightly. Lean hips, an untucked jersey hanging half open over a broadly muscled chest, peppered with thick, dark hair. A strong chin, shadowed with a thick dusting of dark hair. His nose had been broken more than once, set back into place with a negligence that gave him an arresting profile. Hard green eyes framed by thick, black lashes - full of sin and everything else that mothers tell their daughters to avoid like the plague. She tilted her head as she finally reached his eyes, the bland mask she'd perfected after seven years of Slytherin House politics hiding the smile that played at the edges of her mouth. "Flint." He was as hard as his name - solid and unyielding.
The barest hint of a smirk creased his face and he stepped closer, the exhilarating scent of hot, powerful male wafting towards her. He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, powerful arms crossing over the broad expanse of his chest. His voice was a deep rumble and it sent shivers dancing down her spine. "Are you going to give me an answer I like today?"
The smile she'd been hiding slipped loose and teased playfully at the edge of her mouth. "Perhaps. What answer are you looking for?"
He moved so quickly that she barely had time to gasp, hauled up against that broad chest, his big hand splayed wide against her arse, pressing her tightly against him. His breath skated across her face, mingling with her own. "I don't like games Sophie."
She braced her hands on his shoulders and tried to push against his hold. He grunted and tightened his grip, his left hand sliding up to grasp her hip, bringing her even closer. "Marcus, you're hurting me," she said softly. His grip loosened fractionally and she breathed deeply. "And we're in public."
He ducked them back into an alcove as the Common Room started to fill with younger students. The darkness surrounded them, the light seeping into the alcove from the flickering torches giving his face a sinister cast. Sophie sighed. "Must you always be so brutish?"
He growled, his chest rumbling beneath her hand. She chuckled softly, flexing her fingers against his chest. "Yes, I guess you must. Now, I'm guessing you wish to talk about the future?" His head dipped in a terse nod and she tilted her head once more. "I thought we'd settled that."
"How could we, when you won't give me a damn answer?"
"Of course we did. You know I cannot make the decision on my own," she said, gazing up at him. "My father must approve as well."
Marcus scowled deeply. "I presented the suit last month."
Sophie sighed. "I cannot say when he will decide - you know the man lives to vex me." She waved her hand as a wicked grin danced on her lips. "But we can spend time together - at the Debutante Ball perhaps?"
"I don't dance."
"Yes, you will" she said, bracing her hands on his shoulders so she could lift up to nuzzle under his chin. If he hadn't been holding her, she'd never have been able to reach. At six foot four, Marcus towered nearly a foot above her. "Because it's the only way right now for us to be together."
"Don't start what you can't finish." His words were harsh, almost angry.
Her tongue darted out and traced the outline of his adam's apple. "I don’t intend to."
"Sophie." Her name was a growled warning.
Ignoring him, she nuzzled under his chin once more, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses up to his ear. "Marcus."
With a low groan, he pinned her against the wall, his lips finding hers unerringly in the dark. Her mouth opened under the intense pressure. His kiss was devouring, hungry. She met him boldly, her tongue winding around his, teasing. Her fingers wove through the short strands of hair at his nape, her nails grazing the sensitive skin as the kiss deepened.
A bright light intruding into the darkened alcove made them leap apart, squinting. Sophie straightened her robe automatically, tugging her skirt down underneath it surreptitiously. The light moved as Marcus batted the wand that was producing it.
“I thought I’d find you in here.”
Sophie turned to face Melusine Flemming, a seventh year prefect, and her rival since their first days at Hogwarts. “Jealous Mellie, that he'll never be yours?”
The pale blonde girl’s pinched features tightened in anger as Marcus chuckled. His hand settled possessively around Sophie’s waist, drawing her back against him.
"Careful Sophie, I'll take points."
Marcus sneered at her. "You wouldn't dare."
"She might not, but I certainly would." Marcus groaned under his breath as Professor Snape came striding up behind the skinny blonde viper, his cape billowing menacingly. "Snogging in the alcoves again?"
Sophie gave him a saccharine smile. "Just congratulating Marcus on his win for Slytherin today, Professor."
Snape's face pinched into a tight moue, almost like he'd smelled something unpleasant. "I'm certain your father wouldn't approve Miss Capper."
Sophie flipped her long, sable curls behind her shoulder as her expression hardened. "My father could give a damn about what I do."
Snape's eyebrow arched and a sinister smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Shall we find out?"
Sophie met his gaze coolly. “I believe they are abroad sir, until July. But I’m certain the elves could reach them, interrupt their trip if you’d like.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed further and he harrumphed under his breath. “Detention, Miss Capper, tonight. My stock of bubotuber puss is running low.”
Melusine snickered and Marcus shot her an icy glare. She spun around with a huff and marched off as Sophie sighed. She leaned back against Marcus. "I really hate her."
"It's only two more months," he said, squeezing her hip.
"Thank Salazar, I'm fed up with the whole mess of them," she said, turning around and sliding her arms around his waist. She grinned slyly up at him. "Now, I have about two hours before I have to go slave in Snape's workshop, how're you planning on keeping me occupied?"
He gave her a lascivious grin. "I could probably think of something."
***
Sophie spun in front of the mirror, watching with a critical eye as the snowy white silk swirled around her ankles. The robes were exquisitely tailored, highlighting her small but curvaceous bosom and gently rounded hips. It fell to the floor in an elegant swirl of silk, bare of decoration save for a single line of diamonds around the squared, strapless neckline. Her shoulders were bare and she slipped a delicate Alsatian lace shrug on, the sleeves coming to a rest three inches above her elbows. Long white silk gloves buttoned up her arms, encasing them snugly.
Lifting her wand, she aimed it at the gleaming mass of curls atop her head and murmured one more heavy duty sticking charm. It wouldn't do to have the whole thing come tumbling down before she was ready for it to.
The clock in the common room chimed four pm and she smiled into the mirror (the other girls will be green with envy) one last time before reaching for her tiny silk purse. The other seventh year girls would all be meeting in the common room and then transfer over to the Ball via the floo. Melusine's mother had been beside herself when she'd heard that news, insisting that her precious daughter's white robes would be ruined by the soot.
To make her shut up, Snape had set the elves to scrubbing the hearth with tiny brushes until every speck of soot disappeared. Justicina had inspected it herself with Professor Snape just this morning and with a haughty sniff, declared it fit.
Sophie slipped into line behind Magreta Bole and Veronica Pucey, both of whom gave her wide grins. Veronica winked. "Must be nice to know that you've got someone waiting for you on the other side."
Sophie gave her a Cheshire grin. "Mayhap, if Father decides that Marcus meets all his criteria."
"Surely you can't go wrong with one of the oldest names in Wizarding," Magreta said firmly. "The Flint family goes back forever, pure as pure gets."
Sophie shrugged lightly. "Father and I have differing opinions on what makes a Wizard the right choice."
Veronica's expression turned serious. "Surely he wouldn't want someone with," her voice dropped to a horrified whisper, "the mark."
"Bite your tongue!" Magreta said sharply, nudging Veronica hard with her elbow. The tall brunette straightened, turning to give her friend an icy glare. Her expression smoothed into one of placidity as Professor Snape entered the Common Room, Justicina Flemming hot on his heels.
"Ladies, is everyone here?" Justicina glanced hurriedly over the other girls before turning to Melusine, fussing over her full, belled skirt. Sophie bit back a snicker. Melusine looked like one of those doll cakes - a huge voluminous skirt with a skinny doll stuck in the center. The pale white made her skin look sallow, her hair a brittle yellow against the mass of froufrou and fluff that her mother had made her wear.
Snape gave them a dour once over before gesturing impatiently to the house elf stationed beside the hearth. The tiny being reached for a handful of floo and with a whoosh, flames filled the cavernous opening. Tossing in the floo, the elf stepped back as the first girl stepped up. One by one, they entered the hearth, disappearing in a rush of emerald flames.
***
Marcus paced anxiously, tugging at his cravat. He hated wearing dress robes. At least his weren't flounced with lace, or inset with anything that would have made him look like a poof. His gaze drifted to where Padraic Almonacy was prancing around in deep navy velvet, a froth of lace at his neck. "Bloody nuisance," he muttered, inserting a thick finger into his collar and tugging once more. The robes he wore were exquisitely, if severely tailored. Fine, black worsted wool fit him like a glove, tailored to highlight his brawny frame.
"But you look marvelous."
Marcus spun around, his jaw slackening as his gaze swept over Sophie. She looked like an angel, fair glowing in the snow white dress. Her dark hair gleamed in the light from hundreds of flickering candles, and her eyes danced with merriment.
Slapping her fan lightly on his arm, she stepped closer, winding her arm around his much larger one. "Surely I in these robes haven't rendered you speechless. I was so hoping the sight of what I've got on underneath would do that."
His mouth snapped shut and a wicked smile danced on her lips. "It'll be worth the dancing, I promise," she said, leaning closer.
An arched brow and a low growl was her answer. Sophie laughed delightedly. "I do love vexing you Marcus," she said gaily, tugging him gently towards the dance floor.
He let her have her way and before she could admonish him, he grasped her lightly around the waist and swung her around, leading them into the first steps of a lively jig.
"Just remember, revenge is sweet, baby."
Sophie shivered at the banked heat in his gaze. "I'm banking on it," she breathed, her hands tightening on his forearms as they swirled and spun.
The rest of the evening passed swiftly, one dance sliding into the next, until they were both breathless. A loud gong sounded and the doors to the buffet room were thrown open, mouthwatering smells emanating throughout the room.
Just as Marcus was about to lead Sophie into the room, a hand closed around his elbow. He turned around to find Denton Capper standing behind him, looking less than pleased.
"Father," Sophie said, her smile overbright.
"Sophie, get something to eat, the young man and I have things to discuss," Denton said, glaring at her.
"If by things, you mean my future, then I'm not going anywhere," Sophie said, her tone laced with steel.
"Damned insolent chit, I warned your mother about sending you off to that… that…"
"School?" Sophie inserted, her fingers tightening on Marcus's arm.
"You bloody know what I mean!" Denton snapped, and then glanced around, straightening his robes as people glanced their way. "Fine, if you must be involved, then let's go someplace quieter. I don't need the entire world to know my business."
Spinning on his heel, he stomped away, fully expecting them both to follow. Sophie glanced up at Marcus. His face was impassive, save for the tic in his cheek. "I think we'll like what he has to say," she said softly.
His gaze dropped to hers and his brow lifted. "Been scheming?"
She gave him an innocent look. "Planning for one's future is never scheming love."
His bark of laughter echoed in the room, and Denton spun around, the surprised look on his face giving way to anger as he realized they'd not followed. Marcus shrugged his shoulders and led Sophie towards where her father stood, nearly quaking with anger. He spun around once more and stomped his way through the throng, nearly shoving one poor girl into the musicians pit.
He led them to a quiet room off the main hallway, closing the door firmly behind them and twisting the lock. Marcus let go of Sophie and slipped his hand into the pocket of his robes, gripping his wand.
Denton marched to the windows, muttering not quite under his breath about uppity girls and how very happy he would be to be rid of her.
Marcus cleared his throat, drawing his attention. "May I presume then that you're agreeing to my suit?"
"What?" Denton spun around, glaring. His gaze darted to Sophie and he swallowed hard before nodding his head. "Yes, the chit's yours, and good riddance. You'll not get a knut more than her dowry, and once your wed, she's your responsibility, I don't want to see you on my doorstep, hand outstretched for my fortune."
Marcus reached for Sophie's hand, curling his fingers warmly around hers. "I accept, and we won't expect you to put yourself out by coming to the wedding. Sign the contract and consider our business concluded - forevermore. Flint's take care of their own," he said firmly, drawing Sophie closer.
Denton's face closed off and he nodded, pulling out a rolled sheet of parchment. Thrusting it at Marcus, he gave Sophie one more cold stare before leaving them alone.
"Not that I'm complaining, but what the hell just happened?"
Sophie's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Father got a taste of his own medicine."
"Beg pardon?"
"I caught him with someone he'd rather not have society know he dallied with. I threatened to go public with the details if he didn't agree to your suit."
Marcus laughed, long and loud. "Remind me never to brass you off, eh?"
Sophie looked up at Marcus and began to laugh. "I love you," she said, hugging him tightly.
"Of course you do sweets, I'm just that kind of man," Marcus said, his breath skating over her lips as he bent his head.
"What kind of man?"
"Yours," he said, his lips covering hers.