By the time she had turned around, he was gone.
Dumbstruck, Sophia put both hands to her chest and felt a web of stones and precious metal. A necklace. But why would a stranger do such a thing? She was bewildered and terrified, her feet carrying her swiftly outside. She pulled at the heavy necklace, searched for the clasp, but could not seem to unshackle herself.
Anxiously Sophia rushed to the open conservatory, where she had left Ross and his grandfather. A crowd had gathered around them, with many more coming from the ballroom. Rockets filled the sky with clusters of brilliant color, forming shapes of trees and animals, while rain-fire drifted downward through billows of smoke. The scene was chaotic and deafening.
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.
Thankful that the party would be over on the morrow, Ross bade his valet to pack most of his belongings in preparation for an early departure. While the man was folding clothes and laying them neatly in the trunk, Ross wandered around the darkened mansion. A few pockets of activity remained: a couple embracing in a shadowy corner, a card game in the billiards room, men lounging in the library with half-finished cigars.
Sophia was probably in her room by now. Ross longed to go to her. He had never been in such a disturbing situation before, having wounded someone he cared for, wondering how to make amends, realizing there was nothing he could do. Nothing short of raising John Sydney from the dead would make things right.
The fact that Sophia had forgiven him afforded no relief. The knowledge of his past actions would always exist between them. With a harsh sigh, Ross continued to walk aimlessly, reflecting on the events of the past twenty-four hours. His feelings for Sophia had so intensified that he could settle for nothing less than complete possession of her. He wanted her permanently, irrevocably. If she accepted him, he would try to make her so happy that the memory of her brother would not interfere with their feelings for each other.
He found himself in front of the housekeeper’s door near the kitchen, the small room where Sophia was staying. Twice his hand raised to knock at the wood panel, then dropped without striking the surface. He knew that he should go back to his own room and wait patiently until he had uncovered the truth about the past. He should think of her needs rather than his own. But he wanted her so badly that scruples and conscience didn’t matter anymore. Torn between duty and desire, he stood at the door with clenched fists, his body seething with sexual heat.
Just as his reluctant conscience prompted him to leave, the door opened, and Sophia’s heav
y-lashed blue eyes stared into his own. She was dressed in a prim nightgown, high-necked with a row of buttons. He wanted to unfasten them slowly, trace his tongue over every inch of pearly skin.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” Sophia asked softly.
Ross braced his hand on the doorjamb, his gaze raking over her. Desire exploded inside him, making it difficult for him to think straight. “I wanted to see if you were all right.”
“I’m not,” she said, one small hand catching at the front of his waistcoat and tugging him forward. “I’m lonely.”
Breathing hard, Ross let her pull him into the room. He closed the door and looked down at Sophia’s serious face. Her lips were plum-colored and velvety in the soft candlelight. “There are reasons why we should wait,” he began gruffly, giving her one last chance to retreat. But the words were knocked from his throat as she pressed her slim body against his, standing on her toes to mold herself against him.
“For once, don’t do the right thing,” Sophia whispered, her silken arms sliding around his neck. He felt the delicate nip of her teeth on his earlobe just before she whispered tenderly, “I dare you.”
The few memories Sophia had of her first lover were soon dispelled like smoke in the air as she was consumed by the deliberate fire of Ross’s caresses. He undressed both of them leisurely, pausing often to possess her mouth with languid kisses. Bemused, Sophia wondered how a man who conducted his life at such a breakneck pace could make love so slowly, as if time had lost all meaning. When he finally removed her chemise and she was naked, she pressed herself against his body with a whimper of relief. His skin was warm and satin-smooth, his chest covered with thick black hair that tickled her breasts. She felt the strong upthrust of his sex against her belly, and she touched it cautiously, still very much a novice in the art of lovemaking.
The shaft was ridged with veins, the thin silken skin slipping a little over the steely hardness beneath. At the hesitant clasp of her fingers, the heavy organ moved as if it had a will of its own. Sophia’s breath stopped. “Oh.”
Ross’s voice was thick with desire and something that sounded suspiciously like laughter. “Don’t be afraid.” He guided her fingers to the head of the shaft. “This is where it is most sensitive.”
She stroked and played with the broad tip, and the small slit in the center, until she felt a drop of moisture emerge. It made his skin slippery, and she circled the head with her fingertips before sliding down to explore the tight, cool pouch nestled beneath.
Suddenly he caught her wrist in a gentle grasp. “That’s enough for now,” he said raspily.
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to lose my self-control.”
“That was my intention,” she said, and he laughed low in his throat.
“We’re going to do this my way,” he murmured, scooping her up and depositing her on the narrow bed. “And I intend to make it last a long time.”
Ross’s body settled beside hers, more than six feet of hard, powerful male, and she rolled toward him with trembling eagerness. He pushed her back down and bent over her, his hot breath fanning her breast. The tip of his tongue teased her nipple, and she grasped his broad shoulders, straining upward in supplication. He nibbled and sucked lightly at the hardening peak, then moved to the other breast, making her writhe beneath him.
“Ross,” she said desperately.
“Mmm?”
“I need more… more…” She felt his hand descend to her stomach, and her hips lifted in an eloquent arch.
He raised his head, his passion-bright eyes glinting with satisfaction when he saw the flush on her cheeks. She moaned in gratitude as his fingers slid through the triangle of curls, finding the feminine crest that ached so sweetly. To her dismay, the touch was only fleeting. “Oh, Ross, don’t stop, please—”
“I want something else.” He slid much lower, trailing kisses along her body until his shoulders lodged between her thighs.
Sophia felt his lips descend to the inside of her thigh. Suddenly realizing what he meant to do, she jerked and struggled upward to a half-sitting position. “Wait,” she gasped, catching his dark head in her hands. “Wait. Not there.”
His hand moved along the outside of her leg in a soothing stroke. “Haven’t you done that before?”
“Of course not—I didn’t even imagine that someone would—” She stopped and regarded him with a perplexed frown. “I doubt that Anthony even knew about such a thing.”
Laughter rumbled in his chest, and he kissed her knee. “I wanted to do this to you the first day we met.”
“You did?” she asked in complete astonishment.
“Right there in my office. I wanted to throw you across my desk and put my head under your skirts.”
“No,” Sophia said skeptically, unable to believe that beneath his remote exterior, he could have been thinking such a thing. “But you were so dignified!”
“As dignified as a man with a full-blown cockstand could be.”
“Truly? But how—” She gasped as his head dropped between her thighs once more. “Oh, Ross, wait—”
“After tonight,” came his velvety murmur, “you’re going to forget all about Anthony.”
She felt his fingers pressing her swollen folds open, his tongue touching the delicate peak between them. Her elbows collapsed, and she felt back to the mattress with a groan, staring blindly into the darkness. Oh, God, he was licking her, in long, sinuous laps that made her body quiver with desperate excitement.
She could not stop the motion of her hips, rising upward in repeated surges. His hands slid beneath her, guiding her rhythm while his tongue strummed, bathed, flirted. Just as the sensations coalesced in an unendurable peak, Ross lifted his head and levered his body over hers.
“Oh, God,” Sophia whimpered, left suspended on the brink of climax. “Please, please—”
He entered her with a deep flex of his hips. Sophia cried out, her muscles instinctively grasping at the gentle but relentless intrusion. She was stretched tight, unable to take any more. Desperately she struggled to accommodate him, but it seemed impossible.
His mouth brushed over hers, and he whispered, “Easy. I won’t hurt you. Relax, sweetheart.” His hand slid between their bodies and she felt him stroke her while he pressed forward in slow nudges, his every movement careful and easy. Each plunge of his shaft drew a moan from her throat, and she bit her lip to hold in the sounds. Suddenly he was all the way inside her, gliding full and deep, burying every inch of his sex.
He withdrew almost to the head of his shaft, then submerged the entire length with excruciating slowness, his chest hair teasing her nipples, his flat stomach brushing over hers. She writhed upward, her hips pushing into his long, pleasuring thrusts until she begged frantically, “Please don’t be gentle, don’t, don’t, do it harder, please—”
His mouth covered hers, muffling her cries. Her body shook with violent spasms, gripping the hard organ inside her until Ross let out a groan and seized her hips with both hands, spending his own passion.
As her body continued to twitch and jerk with delight, Ross cradled her in his arms and kissed her again. Filled with his tongue and his sex, she felt another wave of sensation roll over her, and she moaned and shivered with a second climax.
After a long time Ross moved onto his side, taking care not to crush her. Sophia stretched luxuriously against him. “Ross…” she murmured drowsily. “I want to tell you something. Perhaps you won’t believe me, but it’s true.”
“Yes?”
“I couldn’t have gone through with it.”
“You mean, breaking my heart? Yes, I know that.”
“You do?”
He smoothed the reckless profusion of her hair and spread it over his chest. “It’s not in your nature to hurt anyone. You could never have brought yourself to betray me.”
Sophia was astonished by his belief in her. “How can you be so certain?”
“You are very easy to read.” H
e played lightly with the lobe of her ear. “I’ve known for a while that you cared for me. But I wasn’t certain how much until yesterday morning, when you saw me after we’d been apart for a week. Your face showed everything.”
Perturbed by the revelation, Sophia sat up and leaned over him, her bare breasts half concealed by the wild locks of her hair. “If I am so transparent, then what am I thinking now?”
Ross studied her for a moment, and a slow smile curved his lips. “You’re wondering how soon I’m going to make love to you again.” Before she could reply, he pulled her farther atop his body, settling her legs on either side of his hips. To her astonishment, his sex stirred into vibrant life, springing hard against her vulnerable flesh. “And this is your answer,” he murmured, pulling her head down to his.
Exhausted by the tumultuous weekend, Sophia cuddled on Ross’s lap and dozed for most of the carriage ride back to London. Staring at the sleeping face on his shoulder, Ross marveled at the momentous change that had taken place in his life. He had become so accustomed to solitude that he had forgotten what it was like to need someone this way. Now all the desires that he had suppressed for so long—for sex, for affection and companionship—had been freed with a vengeance. It troubled him that Sophia had such power over him, a power that he himself had given her. God help him when she realized it. Yet he could not bear to withhold anything from her.
Her body bounced in his lap with each jolt of the carriage, arousing him and filling his mind with idle fantasies. Gently he held Sophia’s head against his chest and watched the alterations of her expression as she slept: the tiny frown that gathered between her dark brows, the restless twitch of her mouth. It seemed that her dreams were far from peaceful. He stroked the side of her face and murmured quietly, and her frown smoothed away. Unable to help himself, Ross slid his hand to her breast and molded his fingers over the voluptuous curve. Even in sleep she responded to him, arching with a drowsy murmur. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and cradled her as she stretched and yawned.
“I’m sorry,” he said, staring into the slumbrous depths of her eyes. “I didn’t intend to wake you.”