Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(54)

Sophia stood huddled against the side of the house, her hands ineffectually trying to cover the rich glitter at her throat. Although Ross could not possibly have seen or heard her, his head turned as if he sensed she was there. At the sight of her starkly pale face, he reacted instantly. He moved through the cheering crowd, his gaze never leaving her, and he reached her in a few strides. The noise made it impossible for them to speak.

Ross took one of her hands and gently pulled it from her throat, exposing the mass of diamonds. His eyes narrowed at the sight. Sophia tugged helplessly at the heavy collar, trying to remove it. Suddenly she felt his warm fingers behind her neck. The clasp was unfastened, and the weight of gold and jewels slid away from her throat. Pocketing the necklace, Ross took her hand and drew her inside the house.

He did not stop until they reached the blue parlor adjoining the central hall. After the earsplitting noise and jubilant brilliance of the fireworks, the quietness of the room was almost shocking. “What happened?” Ross asked tersely, closing the door.

Sophia tried to explain in a coherent fashion. “I was going to the kitchen, and a man stopped me. He was wearing a mask. He said he had been looking for me. I am certain I have never met him before, but somehow he knew my name.” Unsteadily she described the odd conversation that had taken place, and then the stranger’s astonishing act of clasping the diamond necklace around her throat before disappearing.

As she spoke, Ross stroked the side of her neck lightly, as if he were erasing the other man’s touch. “What did he look like?”

“He had brown hair and blue eyes. And he was tall, though not quite so tall as you. At first I thought he was one of the runners. He had a powerful build, and he even seemed to move in the way they do—that is, he seemed unusually agile for his size. He was dressed in fine clothes, just like the party guests… but I don’t think he was one of them.”

“Did he have any scars or marks?”

Sophia shook her head. “Not that I could see.”

Grimly Ross extracted the necklace from his pocket and spread it on a mahogany table. Standing close by his side, Sophia stared at the piece in awestruck dismay. She had never seen anything so magnificent, a glittering collar woven of strings of diamond flowers and emerald leaves. “Is it real?” she whispered.

“Those jewels are not made of paste,” came his flat reply.

“It must be worth a fortune.”

“Three or four thousand pounds, I would guess.” Ross’s assessing gaze traveled over the necklace. “Your admirer is either a very wealthy man or an accomplished thief.”

“Why is this happening to me?” Sophia whispered. “I’ve done nothing to encourage anyone’s interest. What does he want? Why would a stranger do something like this?”

Hearing the note of panic in her voice, Ross bent and kissed her temple reassuringly. “I intend to find out. Don’t be afraid—I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She closed her eyes and breathed in his familiar scent, gaining comfort from his solid strength.

“Come,” he murmured. “I’ll take you to the kitchen.”

“And then?”

“I’m going to recruit some of the footmen to help me search the grounds, in case your stranger is still lurking about. Though I doubt he would be such a fool.” Reaching for the necklace, Ross dropped it back into his pocket. “A necklace like this didn’t appear from thin air… it is unique and valuable. I suspect it won’t be difficult to trace its origins. Which leads to an interesting conclusion. Your admirer wants you to discover his identity—otherwise he wouldn’t have given you such a telling piece of evidence.”

“Do you think he is the one who sent me the lavender gown?”

“I assume so.” Ross’s mouth was set in an impatient line, betraying his eagerness to go hunt for the mysterious guest. However, as he glanced at Sophia’s tense face, he stopped and took her into his arms. He pulled her against his body until her toes nearly left the floor. A muscular arm hooked around the back of her neck as his lips descended to hers in a possessive kiss.

At his silent command, Sophia parted her own lips and yielded to his sensuous exploration. The kiss turned demanding, his tongue ravishing slowly, his thigh intruding between her legs. All rational thought, all trace of worry, burned to ashes. There was only Ross, his mouth and hands reminding her of the scorching intimacy they had shared the previous night. Her knees weakened, and she began to gasp, her hands searching restlessly over the back of his coat. She was possessed with a terrible urge to rip at his clothes, and at her own, until they were both naked.

“Ross,” she moaned, her neck arching as his tongue traced an intricate pattern on her throat.

He lifted his head and smiled in masculine satisfaction when he saw the passion-softened curve of her lips and the haziness of her blue eyes. “You’re mine, Sophia… and I will never let anything happen to you. Do you understand?”

She nodded dazedly, wobbling a little as he slid a supportive arm around her and guided her from the room.

The mysterious stranger was nowhere to be found on the grounds at Silverhill Park, which Ross had expected. However, the clue he had left behind would eventually lead to his capture. Ross was impatient to return to Bow Street and launch an investigation into the matter. The thought that someone had chosen to stalk Sophia in this untoward fashion provoked his most primitive male instincts. He would not be satisfied until he had cornered the bastard, seized him in a choke-hold, and pried a detailed confession from him.