Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(17)

Ross made a soft sound that could be taken for either irritation or amusement. “I was busy with Gentry.”

“I thought I would be crushed,” she said shakily.

She was astonished as he cuddled her closer. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “No one is going to harm you.”

Realizing that he was more than ready to comfort her, Sophia decided that this was a golden opportunity to appeal to his protective streak. She knew Sir Ross well enough by now to be certain that he could not resist the lure of a damsel in distress. Although part of her cringed in embarrassment, she continued to cling to him as if she were overcome by fear.

“I called to Mr. Vickery, but he couldn’t hear me,” she said, letting a plaintive note enter her voice.

He murmured softly and rubbed her spine with a comforting stroke. Although Sophia tried to ignore the pleasure of his touch, it spread through her body in an insidious tide. Closing her eyes, she wondered how long she could endure the slow caress of his hand. Her br**sts fell full and heavy against his chest, her ni**les turning hard.

Gently Sir Ross tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. The brush of his fingertips on her skin sent a ripple of warm sensation through her. “Were you hurt in the crush, Sophia?”

“I… I’m a bit bruised.” Pretending to be overwrought, she put her arms around his neck and held on tightly. The closeness of his large body made her feel safe, supported, protected. She wanted to stand like this forever. He was her enemy, she reminded herself… but for the moment, that did not matter nearly as much as it should have.

Sir Ross gave a cursory glance around them as the hall began to clear. She gasped as he bent to pick her up. “Oh, sir, there is no need. I can walk, I’m—”

He ignored her protests as he carried her through the hall. For a woman who was used to taking care of herself, it was acutely embarrassing to play the helpless maiden. However, it was necessary to further her goal. Turning pink, Sophia clung to the hard breadth of his shoulders. Fortunately, the constables and handcuffed agitators were far too busy to pay any attention as Sir Ross carried her through the hall and up a flight of stairs.

When they reached his office, Sir Ross set her carefully on her feet. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, her heartbeat hurtling in a reckless cadence.

“I want to talk about something,” he said quietly. “When you came to the strong room earlier, you happened to interrupt during a rather tense moment of the questioning, and I—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let me finish.” A sudden smile curved his lips. “I’ve never known anyone with such a propensity for interrupting me.”

Sophia managed to keep her mouth closed, and his smile deepened.

“Questioning Gentry is hardly a pleasant occupation. I’ve been in a foul mood all afternoon, and seeing you down there was the last straw. I rarely lose my temper, and I regret doing so in front of you.”

Sophia found it amazing that a man of his position would apologize to her for such a slight offense. Somewhat unnerved, she moistened her lips and asked, “Why is it so important that I stay away from there?”

Carefully he took hold of the loose lock of blonde hair that had fallen to her shoulder. His long fingers rubbed the silken strands as if he were releasing the perfume of a flower petal. “I promised myself when I hired you that I would try to protect you. There are some things that a woman should never be exposed to. That strong room has contained some of the most vile people on earth.”

“Like Nick Gentry?”

Sir Ross frowned. “Yes. It is bad enough that you are exposed to the rabble who cross through the Bow Street office daily. But I won’t allow you in the vicinity of men like Gentry.”

“I am hardly a child who needs to be sheltered. I am a woman of twenty-eight.”

For some reason the remark caused his eyes to gleam with amusement. “Well, despite your vast number of years, I would like to preserve as much of your innocence as possible.”

“But I am not innocent. You know that, after what I’ve told you of my past.”

He released the lock of her hair and framed the sides of her face with the tips of his fingers. “You are an innocent, Sophia. As I’ve said from the beginning, you should not be working here. You should be married to a man who will take care of you.”

“I don’t want to marry, ever.”

“No?” To her surprise, he did not jeer or laugh. “Why not? Because of your disappointment in love? That will fade in time.”

“Will it?” she asked, not believing him. It wasn’t what she had learned about Anthony that had made her a skeptic about love. It was what she had learned about herself.

“There are many men worth trusting,” he told her seriously. “Men who will give you the honesty and respect you deserve. You’ll find one of them someday, and marry him.”

Sophia sent him a flirtatious glance from beneath her lashes. “But if I left Bow Street, who would take care of you?”

A gruff laugh escaped him, and his hands dropped from her face. But his searching gaze held hers, and Sophia felt her insides tighten in response.

“You can’t spend the rest of your life working for a surly old magistrate at the Bow Street public office,” he said.

Sophia smiled at the way Sir Ross described himself. Rather than argue the point, however, she stepped away and viewed his office critically. “I will tidy up in here.”