Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(4)

“But you said that it was part of your assistant’s responsibility, and I—”

“Are you arguing with me, Miss Sydney?”

She closed her mouth abruptly. “No, Sir Ross.”

He gave her a brief nod. “The Hue and Cry must be finished by two o’clock. After you’re done, go to Bow Street number four and find a dark-haired lad named Ernest. Tell him where your possessions are—he will fetch them after he delivers the Hue and Cry to the printer.”

“There is no need to make him gather my things,” Sophia protested. “I will go to the lodging house by myself at a more convenient time.”

“You are not to walk anywhere in London alone. From now on, you are under my protection. If you wish to go somewhere, you will be accompanied by Ernest or one of the runners.”

She didn’t like that—he saw the resentful flicker in her eyes. But she did not argue. Ross continued in a businesslike manner. “You’ll have the rest of the day to make yourself familiar with the public office and private residence. Later I will introduce you to my colleagues as they appear for their court sessions.”

“Will I also be introduced to the Bow Street runners?”

“I doubt you will be able to avoid them for long,” Ross said dryly. The thought of the runners’ reaction to his female assistant caused his mouth to tighten. He wondered if that was Sophia’s motive for working here. Women all over England had made the runners objects of romantic fantasy. Their imaginings were fueled by the ha’penny novels that portrayed the runners as heroic men of action. It was possible that Sophia wished to attract one of them. If so, she would not have to try hard. The runners were a randy lot, and all but one of them were unmarried.

“By the way, I do not condone any romantic involvements at Bow Street,” Ross said. “The runners, the constables, and the clerks are all unavailable to you. Naturally I will offer no objections if you wish to carry on with someone outside the public office.”

“What about you?” she startled him by asking softly. “Are you unavailable as well?”

Perplexed, hungering, Ross wondered what kind of game she was trying to play. He kept his expression blank as he replied, “Naturally.”

She smiled slightly as she went to the small, overladen table.

In less than an hour, Sophia had efficiently arranged and copied the notes in a neat hand that would delight the printer to no end. She was so quiet and economical in her movements that Ross would have forgotten she was there, except that her scent filtered through the air. It was a tantalizing distraction that he could not dismiss. Breathing deeply, he tried to identify the fragrance. He detected tea and vanilla, blended with the elixir of warm female skin. Stealing glances at her delicate profile, he was fascinated by the way the light moved over her hair. She had small ears, a sharply defined chin, a soft snippet of a nose, and eyelashes that cast spiky shadows on her cheeks.

Absorbed in her task, Sophia bent over a page and wrote carefully. Ross could not help but imagine how those adept hands might feel on his body, if they would be warm or cool. Would she touch a man with hesitancy or boldness? Her exterior was delicate, subdued, but there were hints of something provocative beneath… an intimation that she could be unmoored by sexuality, if only a man could reach deep enough inside her.

The conjecture caused Ross’s blood to stir faster. He damned himself for being so drawn to her. The force of his unspent passion seemed to fill the room. How strange that the past months, years, of celibacy had been so tolerable until now. Suddenly it had become unbearable, his accumulated hunger for a woman’s soft flesh, his need for a tender sheath clamped around his cock, a sweet, responsive mouth returning his kisses…

Just as his desire reached an excruciating pitch, Sophia approached his desk with the copies. “Is this how you like it to be done?” she asked.

He scanned them quickly, hardly seeing the neat lines of script. With a cursory nod, he handed them back to her.

“I’ll give them to Ernest, then,” she said, her gown rustling softly as she left. The door closed with a quiet click, affording him some much-needed privacy. Releasing an explosive breath, Ross went to the chair where Sophia had sat, his fingers coasting over its back and arms. Driven by primal urges, he hunted for any trace of warmth her hands might have left on the wood. He breathed deeply, seeking to absorb a lingering hint of her fragrance.

Yes, he thought with purely masculine agitation, he had been celibate for too long.

Although he was often tormented by his physical needs, Ross had too much respect for women to hire a prostitute. He had become well acquainted with the profession from the perspective of the magisterial bench, and he would not take advantage of such a woman. Moreover, the transaction would be a mockery of what he had shared with his wife.

He had considered the idea of marrying again, but he had not yet found a woman who seemed remotely suitable. The wife of a police magistrate would have to be strong and independent. And she would have to fit easily into the social circles his family frequented, as well as the dark world of Bow Street. Most of all, she would have to be satisfied with his friendship, not his love. He would not allow himself to fall in love again, not as he had with Eleanor. The pain of losing her had been too great, and his heart had been ripped in half when she died.

He only wished that the need for sex could be dismissed as easily as the need for love.