Page 47 of Lady Sophia’s Lover (Bow Street #2)

“Save my brother just this once,” she persisted. “One time. I will never ask again, no matter what happens from now on.”

He did not move or speak, his shoulders bunched tightly beneath his shirt.

“Lady Sophia,” Morgan interjected gently.

“I should not speak, but I must point out what is at risk for Sir Ross. All eyes are on Bow Street. Keen attention is being paid to how we handle this matter. If it is discovered that Sir Ross has interfered in the process of law, his reputation and everything he has worked for will be ruined. Furthermore, questions will be asked, and when it comes to light that Gentry is Sir Ross’s brother-in-law, the entire Cannon family will suffer the consequences. ”

“I understand,” Sophia said. Painful pressure built behind her eyes, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying. She stared at her husband; he still refused to face her.

There seemed to be nothing left to say. She departed the office silently, knowing that she had asked the impossible of him. Moreover, she had wounded him beyond his ability to forgive.

The two men remained alone. A long time passed before Morgan spoke. “Ross…” In all the years they had known each other, he had never called him by his first name. “Do you think there is a chance she is telling the truth?”

“Of course it’s true,” Ross replied bitterly. “It’s so damned appalling that it has to be the truth.”

***

After Sophia left Bow Street No. 3, she was not certain what to do.

She was suddenly exhausted, as if she had gone for days without sleeping.

Desolately she tried to think of what Ross would do with her.

With his extensive political connections and influence, it would probably be fairly easy for him to obtain a divorce.

Or perhaps he would simply install her somewhere in the country, out of sight and out of mind.

Whatever he decided, Sophia would not blame him.

And yet she could not conceive that he would reject her absolutely.

Perhaps there was some remnant of his feelings that remained, some fragile foundation on which they could rebuild their relationship.

Even if it turned out to be a flawed imitation of what they’d once had.

Dazedly she went into the bedroom they shared and changed into a light robe. It was only midday, but her weariness was overwhelming. She lay down on the wide bed and closed her eyes, welcoming the dark oblivion that rolled over her.

Much later she was awakened by the sound of someone entering the room.

Groggily she realized that she had slept all afternoon.

The room was much cooler, and beyond the partially drawn curtains she could see the sun yielding to the slow encroachment of evening.

She sat up, watching as her husband crossed the threshold and closed the door in a decisive motion.

They regarded each other like two gladiators who had been released into the ring but were reluctant to battle.

She was the first to speak. “I’m certain that you…you must be furious with me.”

A long silence passed. Assuming that they were going to have a civilized discussion, Sophia was startled when he sprang at her in two swift strides and seized her in a rough grip.

His hand tangled in her hair and he tugged her head back, crushing his mouth over hers.

The bruising kiss was not meant to give pleasure but to punish.

Gasping, Sophia yielded completely, opening her mouth to the aggressive thrust of his tongue, answering his angry passion with utter surrender.

She told him with her lips and body that whatever he wanted of her, she would give without reserve.

Eventually her lack of resistance seemed to soothe him, and he softened the kiss, still probing deeply, both of his hands cupping around her skull.

However, the embrace was short-lived. Ross let go of her as abruptly as he had seized her and put a few yards of distance between them. He sent her a baffled glare, his eyes light and piercing in his flushed face.

And then Sophia understood, as clearly as if his thoughts and feelings were her own.

She had lied to him, kept secrets from him, abused his trust. Yet he still wanted her.

He would forgive her anything, even murder.

He loved her more than honor, even more than his pride.

For a man who had always been so completely self-possessed, the realization was a unpleasant shock.

Desperately she wished for a way to reassure him that from now on, she would be worthy of his trust.

“Please let me explain,” she said in a raw voice. “I wanted to tell you about Nick, but I couldn’t. I was so afraid that once you knew—”

“You thought I would turn you away.”

She nodded, her eyes stinging.

“How many times do I have to prove myself to you?” His face twisted with fury. “Have I ever blamed you for your past mistakes? Have I ever been unfair to you?”

“No.”

“Then when are you going to trust me?”

“I do trust you,” she said hoarsely. “But the fear of losing you was more than I could bear.”

“The only way you could lose me is by lying to me again.”

She blinked, and her heart drummed furiously in her chest. Something in his words implied… “Is it too late?” she managed to ask. “Have I already lost you?”

Ross looked grim, his mouth twisting. “I’m here,” he pointed out sardonically.

Her lips shook until she could hardly form words. “If you still want me, I-I promise never to lie to you again.”

“That would be a pleasant change,” he told her curtly.

“And…I will keep no secrets from you.”

“Also a good idea.”

Wild hope flooded her as she realized that he was willing to give her another chance. Furious, but willing. And there could only be one reason that he would put himself at such risk.

Carefully she approached her husband, the room darkening as the buildings and spires of London fractured the falling sunlight. She put her hands on his chest, gently covering the violent thud of his heart. He stiffened but did not pull away. “Thank you, Ross,” she whispered.

“For what?” he returned, stone-faced.

“For loving me.” She felt his heart lurch at the words, and she realized that until this moment, Ross had not acknowledged his feelings for her, even to himself.

He had not wanted to put a name to the emotion.

Holding his stare, she saw the blaze of resentment in his eyes…

and the smoldering need he could not conceal.

She could think of only one way to dispel his anger, to reassure him and soothe his aggravated pride.

Sophia’s sapphire eyes were grave as she reached up to Ross’s neck, her fingers working at the knot of his cravat.

She concentrated on the task as if it were of momentous importance.

The knot loosened, and she drew the length of dark, warm silk from his throat.

Ross’s body was as rigid as carved marble, his thoughts in a welter.

Surely she did not think that a romp in bed would solve anything.

But the deliberateness of her actions indicated that she was trying to demonstrate something.

She undressed him slowly, removing his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, then kneeling to unbuckle his shoes. “Sophia,” he said tersely.

“Let me,” she whispered. Standing, she brushed her fingertips over the matted curls on his chest. Her fingers delved lightly into the black hair, sifted through it, stroked the hot skin beneath.

Her thumbs found his nipples, circled delicately, bringing them to hard points.

Leaning closer, she flicked her tongue over the dark circle until the nipple was slick and sensitive.

He could not restrain a primitive grunt as her hand slid to the stiff bulge of his erection, tracing it slowly.

She glanced at his face then. “Are you sorry for loving me?” she whispered.

“No,” he said gruffly. Somehow he managed to hold still as her slim fingers dipped inside the waist of his trousers.

“I want you to know something,” Sophia said.

The first button popped free, revealing the swollen head of his sex.

Her fingers stole to the next button. “I am more in your power, Ross, than you could ever be in mine. I love you.” A quiver ran through him at the words.

“I love you,” she repeated deliberately, plucking at the fourth button.

She continued down the row until his trousers were wide open and his erection was unhindered.

Grasping him carefully in both hands, she stroked up and down the hard shaft.

She wet her finger in her mouth, then stroked a moist circle around the taut purple crown.

The muscles of his thighs stiffened, and he breathed in harsh pants as passion ignited and roared through his body.

Sophia’s head lowered until it hovered just above the rearing length of him.

“Enough,” Ross choked. “Christ, I can’t—”

“Tell me what to do,” she said, the words blowing against him.

Whatever sanity Ross had left promptly burned to cinders. He gasped out instructions, his hands trembling as he clasped her head. “Use your tongue on the tip… yes …now take as much as you can in your…oh, God…”

Sophia’s fervor more than made up for her lack of experience.

She did things that Eleanor would never have tried, tugging at his aching flesh, her velvety tongue swirling and lapping.

Ross sank to his knees and pulled at her clothes, tearing them, and she gave a breathless laugh at his roughness.

His mouth caught greedily at hers, while she wriggled to help him strip the shredded gown down her legs.