Read Online Teton Splendor by Peggy L Henderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peggy L Henderson
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fair-skinned, and Sophia envied them. Her bronze skin was the reason everyone talked about her behind her back, and why she’d never been accepted fully in Boston society.
Sophia ran her fingers over her cheek, and along her jawline, and turned her head from side to side. Did she resemble her mother or her real father? She’d always assumed she looked like her mother, since she shared no common physical features with the man she had thought, up until yesterday, was her biological father. Years ago, she’d asked questions about her mother, but her father had always been rather evasive. He’d never even spoken her name, no matter how often Sophia tried to get him to divulge some information about her. His answer was always that it brought back painful memories if he had to talk about her.
In later years, when her childhood friends began to whisper in secret and point fingers at her, and exclude her from social events, Sophia blamed the woman who had given birth to her. Anything to do with Indians was obviously unacceptable, and she wished somehow she could shed her dark skin and be like everyone else around her.
Your real father was a French trapper.
Sophia tried to imagine what he might have looked like. Did he dress and act like Joseph Walker? His clothing was unlike that of any man she’d ever seen. Completely different in appearance and demeanor than the well-groomed, impeccably dressed gentlemen in Boston, Joseph was wild and rugged, from his buckskin britches and cotton shirt to his long hair. Admittedly, he was without a doubt the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
Did all men living out west have the same broad shoulders and sculpted arm and stomach muscles as Joseph? Lucy had obstructed much of her view on purpose in the barn yesterday afternoon. A lady wasn’t supposed to see a man’s nude chest, but one glimpse at him, and the high collar of her dress seemed to have squeezed tightly around her neck while she fought for a breath of air.
Her face flushed, and her pulse quickened at the memory. Her arm began to tingle where he touched her. Even through the satin of her sleeve, the warmth and strength of his fingers had seeped straight into her skin. Sophia shivered involuntarily. Every encounter with Joseph had brought the same response. Andrew’s touch had never elicited such a reaction.
Sophia scoffed. Andrew’s embrace, and his kisses had left her repulsed rather than craving more. If she was completely honest with herself, she’d been afraid of him yesterday afternoon. What would have happened if Joseph hadn’t shown up when he did? Would Andrew have forced himself on her like Joseph seemed to think? She touched trembling fingers to the buttons on her gown, and shuddered. The thought was too terrifying to even contemplate.
Sophie.
A delicious chill ran down her spine. Joseph’s deep, strong voice echoed in her mind. The variation of her name he used sounded like an endearment, personal and intimate.
He doesn’t seem to like you very much.
When he called her Princess, it sounded like anything but an endearment, more like a nasty word.
A short knock on her bedroom door startled her from her thoughts. Who wanted to see her at this hour? She’d woken much earlier than she normally did, her sleep wrought with dreams of Indians and one ruggedly handsome backwoodsman.
“Come in,” she called, and stood from her seat at the vanity.
Lucy stormed into the room, her skirts swishing around her legs like a hurricane about to unleash its wrath.
“Your father asked that you join him for breakfast in the dining room.” Lucy marched straight for the wardrobe and pulled open the doors.
Sophia groaned. She was in no mood to get dressed this early. She’d gone to breakfast in her morning robe before, and her father had never objected.
“You may lay out my clothes for today. I’ll be back to dress after breakfast.” Sophia turned toward her maid, and braced herself for an
Sophia ran her fingers over her cheek, and along her jawline, and turned her head from side to side. Did she resemble her mother or her real father? She’d always assumed she looked like her mother, since she shared no common physical features with the man she had thought, up until yesterday, was her biological father. Years ago, she’d asked questions about her mother, but her father had always been rather evasive. He’d never even spoken her name, no matter how often Sophia tried to get him to divulge some information about her. His answer was always that it brought back painful memories if he had to talk about her.
In later years, when her childhood friends began to whisper in secret and point fingers at her, and exclude her from social events, Sophia blamed the woman who had given birth to her. Anything to do with Indians was obviously unacceptable, and she wished somehow she could shed her dark skin and be like everyone else around her.
Your real father was a French trapper.
Sophia tried to imagine what he might have looked like. Did he dress and act like Joseph Walker? His clothing was unlike that of any man she’d ever seen. Completely different in appearance and demeanor than the well-groomed, impeccably dressed gentlemen in Boston, Joseph was wild and rugged, from his buckskin britches and cotton shirt to his long hair. Admittedly, he was without a doubt the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
Did all men living out west have the same broad shoulders and sculpted arm and stomach muscles as Joseph? Lucy had obstructed much of her view on purpose in the barn yesterday afternoon. A lady wasn’t supposed to see a man’s nude chest, but one glimpse at him, and the high collar of her dress seemed to have squeezed tightly around her neck while she fought for a breath of air.
Her face flushed, and her pulse quickened at the memory. Her arm began to tingle where he touched her. Even through the satin of her sleeve, the warmth and strength of his fingers had seeped straight into her skin. Sophia shivered involuntarily. Every encounter with Joseph had brought the same response. Andrew’s touch had never elicited such a reaction.
Sophia scoffed. Andrew’s embrace, and his kisses had left her repulsed rather than craving more. If she was completely honest with herself, she’d been afraid of him yesterday afternoon. What would have happened if Joseph hadn’t shown up when he did? Would Andrew have forced himself on her like Joseph seemed to think? She touched trembling fingers to the buttons on her gown, and shuddered. The thought was too terrifying to even contemplate.
Sophie.
A delicious chill ran down her spine. Joseph’s deep, strong voice echoed in her mind. The variation of her name he used sounded like an endearment, personal and intimate.
He doesn’t seem to like you very much.
When he called her Princess, it sounded like anything but an endearment, more like a nasty word.
A short knock on her bedroom door startled her from her thoughts. Who wanted to see her at this hour? She’d woken much earlier than she normally did, her sleep wrought with dreams of Indians and one ruggedly handsome backwoodsman.
“Come in,” she called, and stood from her seat at the vanity.
Lucy stormed into the room, her skirts swishing around her legs like a hurricane about to unleash its wrath.
“Your father asked that you join him for breakfast in the dining room.” Lucy marched straight for the wardrobe and pulled open the doors.
Sophia groaned. She was in no mood to get dressed this early. She’d gone to breakfast in her morning robe before, and her father had never objected.
“You may lay out my clothes for today. I’ll be back to dress after breakfast.” Sophia turned toward her maid, and braced herself for an
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