Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(22)

He didn’t fear Sophie would lose her heart to him.

Mallen, was an altogether different story.

Any young lady would be hard-pressed not to fall for the distinguished peer—if for just his title alone.

Not that Sophie had ever struck him as a title-grasping young lady.

A small cry rent the stillness of the grounds. Intrepid danced nervously beneath him.

Christopher frowned and pulled on the reins. “Easy, girl,” he murmured, stroking her gently and rhythmically on her withers. He scoured the surrounding area and began to think he’d imagined the sound.

Another shriek filled the morning sky. Christopher kicked his horse forward, galloping toward the cry, just as a young woman stepped into his path.

His horse reared on its legs and came down amidst a shower of dust and pebbles. Christopher silently cursed and leapt to the ground.

“Have you been hurt, miss?” He froze, the remainder of what he’d been about to say, died on his lips. “Sophie? Whatever are you doing here at this ungodly…” His stomach tightened. Mud dotted the hem of her pale pink gown. “Christ.” The one word emerged more as a prayer. It tore from somewhere deep inside of him where fear lived.

A single trail of tears fell down her dirt-stained cheeks. “Christopher,” she cried and flung herself into his arms.

Instinctively he folded them around her, holding her close to his fast-beating heart. All the ugliest scenarios played out in his mind. By God, when he found the man responsible he would rip the bloody bastard’s entrails through his throat.

“What happened?” He strove to keep his voice calm.

She raised her head. “You must help me.”

“I will. Tell me what to do.” He would lay himself at her feet to drive back the panic bleeding through her cornflower blue irises.

Sophie stepped away and took him by the hand.

“Phi…?”

“Come,” she pleaded.

He allowed himself to be pulled along.

“It’s Duke.”

Those words penetrated all the horrific possibilities that had swelled in his brain. His steps slowed. “What?”

“My dog.”

His eyes slid closed on a whispered prayer. It was only her dog.

Sophie glanced up at him. “We came upon some geese. There was a mother and her babies. Duke chased the baby fowl and the mother charged after him. Will you help me?”

Christopher could only imagine what that entreaty cost Sophie. She was a proud woman…and he ventured, she’d sooner welcome help from the devil himself.

“Of course I’ll help,” he said, gentling his tone.

She dashed a hand across her eyes. “I’m crying.”

His lips twitched. “Ah, yes, I see that.”

“I never cry.”

He wiped away a lone tear from her cheek, and then froze. It was as though a bolt of lightning had jolted him right there amidst Hyde Park’s lush greenery. Emerald green and turquoise flecks dotted her irises, a shade of blue to rival the purest ocean waters. They were the kind of eyes a man could lose himself in.

He forced his gaze downward, and it landed on her mouth. Her teeth troubled the plump, lower flesh of bow-shaped lips and god help him, his mind wandered a path of all the wicked things those lips could do.

Christopher released Sophie with such alacrity, she nearly toppled over. His hands immediately came up to right her, settling on the silken flesh of her forearm. He dropped it as if singed.

“Christopher?”

He heard the question there.

“Fine,” he managed hoarsely. But he wasn’t. He’d bloody well lost his mind. There was no other explanation for why he’d be lusting after the hoydenish Sophie Winters on this riding path in Hyde Park. “Where did you last leave the miserable cur?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your dog,” he clarified, his tone harsh to his own ears.

Her gaze narrowed. “His name is Duke.”

Based on his recent dealings with the pup, Christopher would venture his was a more apt moniker for the creature.

Christopher allowed himself to be dragged along, much the way he had as a child when he’d visited with Sophie’s family. Then it had grated. After all, there was nothing more a young boy liked less than playing nursemaid to a troublesome child.

Now, the part of him that noted her sweetly rounded hips and plump buttocks was inclined to follow her to an out of the way path and worship her mouth with his lips.

They crossed the Serpentine Bridge that divided the two parks and approached the Long Water. Sure enough, the fawn colored pug, who’d clearly had too many treats at his mistress’ hand, danced in circles about a gray goose.

The angry bird flapped its wings and honked, dancing about on its pink feet in a way that Gentleman Jackson would have been proud of.

Christopher studied the tableau. He didn’t take Sophie as one who would be afraid of a bird. “You didn’t try to intercede?”

She made an impatient sound, and he looked back down at her. “Of course I did.” She held up her hand for his inspection. A thin trail of blood ran down the soft flesh between her thumb and forefinger.

He cursed, and reached for the hand. “What happened?”

“I didn’t know geese had teeth,” she muttered.

He cocked his head. “Do they?”