Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(84)

“Ross,” she demanded, “turn and face me. Please.”

He seemed dazed as he complied. Immediately she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself to his big, warm body. He seized her as if she were a lifeline, his arms clamping onto her in a desperate vise.

Sophia smoothed her hands over his back and kissed his ear. His fingers clenched in her hair and her clothes, and he gripped her while his lungs moved in shuddering sighs. Sophia placed her hands on either side of his damp, hot face and urged it to hers. His thick lashes were spiked with tears, and he seemed to be staring through the gates of hell. Tenderly she kissed his stiff lips.

“You will never be alone again,” she promised. “We are going to have many healthy children, and grandchildren, and we will grow old together.”

He nodded, clearly trying to make himself believe her.

“Ross,” she continued, “I’m not like Eleanor in any way, am I?”

“No,” he replied gruffly.

“Our entire relationship, from the moment it started until now… not a moment of it has been similar to what you experienced with Eleanor, has it?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why do you believe it will end the same way?”

He did not answer, only crushed his lips to her temple and stood holding her in a desperate grip.

“I don’t know why Eleanor had to die in such a manner,” Sophia said. “It wasn’t her fault, and it certainly wasn’t yours. It was beyond your control. Until you stop holding yourself responsible for what happened to her, you will continue to be haunted by the past. And in punishing yourself, you will punish me as well.”

“No,” he breathed, clumsily stroking her hair, her neck, her back.

“Your guilt does her no honor.” Sophia drew back to stare into his contorted face. “Eleanor would have hated to know that you were worse off for having loved her.”

“I’m not!”

“Then prove it,” she challenged, her own eyes misting with emotion. “Live as she would have wanted, and don’t blame yourself any longer.”

Ross huddled over her, and Sophia held him with all her strength. His beard-roughened face scraped hers as he sought her lips, found them, and kissed her almost angrily. She opened to him, accepting his passionate aggression. His hands searched her body roughly, emotion transforming into raw physical need.

“Upstairs,” she said. “Please.”

With a savage groan, he picked her up and headed into the house, not stopping until he had reached their bedroom.

Sophia awakened alone and na**d beneath the rumpled bedclothes. She had slept late, she thought groggily. There was much to do today—meetings with an interior decorator and a master gardener, and a charity luncheon to attend. But somehow the thought of all that did not bother her nearly as much as it should have.

A drowsy smile curved her lips as she rolled onto her stomach. Memories of Ross’s lovemaking swirled in her head. He had reached for her countless times in the night, lavishing her with passionate attention until she had finally begged him to cease. Now she was sore everywhere, and she felt the sting of whisker burns in indecent places, and her lips were chapped and kiss-swollen. And she was utterly satisfied, her body filled with luxurious contentment.

She asked Lucie to fill a slipper-bath for her, and she took her time about selecting her clothes for the day, a peach corded silk trimmed with fluted bands at the waist and hem. When the bath was ready, she lowered

Chapter 17

herself into the steaming water with a sigh, letting the heat soothe her abraded skin and sore muscles. Afterward she dressed and arranged her hair in a newly fashionable style, parted on the right with curls pinned on the left side.Just as she reached for a bonnet trimmed with sprigs of hydrangea, Lucie entered the apartments with a hasty knock.

“Have you come to empty the bath?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, milady, but… they sent Ernest across the way wiv‘ a message. Sir Ross wants ye, an’ ‘e’s asking for ye to come to ’is office.”

The request was unusual, for Ross rarely sent for her in the middle of the day. “Yes, of course,” Sophia said calmly, though she was conscious of an inner throb of uneasiness. “The carriage is most likely waiting at the front. Will you tell the driver that I will be delayed for a few minutes?”

“Yes, milady.” Lucie bobbed deferentially and left.

Ernest was waiting downstairs to accompany her to No. 3.

“Ernest,” Sophia asked as they walked out the back and crossed the courtyard, “have you any idea why Sir Ross has asked for me?”

“No, milady… except… there’s been some grand to-do this morning. Mr. Sayer ‘as come an’ gone twice already, an‘ I ’eard tell that Sir Grant ‘as sent for the militia to go to Newgate, an’ dragoons to come ‘ere!”

“They’re expecting riots for some reason,” Sophia murmured, while cold suspicion gathered in her chest.

The boy fairly wriggled with excitement.“‘Twould seem so, milady!”

An unusual number of constables and patrols were being summoned to No. 3. Groups of uniformed men nodded respectfully and removed their hats as Sophia passed by. Distractedly she bade them good morning and continued with Ernest until they reached Ross’s office. Leaving the boy to stand in the hallway, Sophia pushed through the half-open door and saw Ross standing over his desk. Sir Grant Morgan stood staring out the window, an austere expression on his face. They both turned at her entrance, and Ross’s gaze locked with hers. For one breathtaking moment the intimacy of the previous night flashed between them, and Sophia felt her pulse quicken.