Lady Sophias Lover bsr-2

by Lisa Kleypas

  Slowly she relaxed in his hold, acutely relieved that there would be no explosions of jealousy and no bitter accusations. What an extraordinary man Ross was, she thought with a rush of love. So many other men would have scorned her for her lack of virginity and regarded her as soiled goods. But Ross had always treated her with respect. "You mustn't refer to Anthony as my lover," she chided softly. "He gave me only pain and shame.You are the only lover I've ever had."

  He bent his head and kissed her temple. "Don't worry, my sweet. He won't trouble you again. In fact, I suspect he has left the ball precipitately."

  Something in his tone made her wonder if he had actually approached Anthony. "Ross," she said suspiciously, "about this 'rodent' you disposed of--"

  "The opening march is beginning," he interrupted, pulling her with him to the mass of whirling couples.

  "Yes, but did you--"

  "Come--it is our responsibility to lead."

  As Ross had intended, Sophia was distracted. "I'm not certain I can," she said. "I've seen the march a few times, but I've never had the opportunity to try it."

  "It's very simple," he murmured, drawing her hand into the crook of his arm. "Just follow my lead."

  Although their hands were gloved, Sophia felt a thrill at the pressure of his fingers. She looked up at his dark face and said with a sudden throb in her voice, "I would follow you anywhere."

  Ross's thick lashes veiled his smoky eyes. She sensed his rampant desire to be alone with her. "Three hours," he said, speaking as if to himself.

  "What?" she asked.

  "Three hours until midnight. Then you will go upstairs, and I will follow soon after."

  "Oh. Isn't that rather too early to retire from a ball such as this? I suspect some of the couples will be dancing until dawn."

  "We won't be one of them," he said firmly, escorting her to the drawing room. "I can think of a much better way to spend the rest of the evening."

  "Sleeping?" she said with false innocence.

  Ross bent to whisper his alternative, and grinned as a wild blush rose in her face.

  CHAPTER 16

  Ross could barely contain his annoyance upon their return to Bow Street, when all half-dozen runners gathered to congratulate him on his nuptials. The runners loudly insisted on their rights to "kiss the bride," and one after another, they bent over Sophia in a manner that was far more brotherly than amorous. However, Ross was scowling by the time he retrieved his giggling wife. He gave them all a warning stare. "Attend to your duties now."

  Grumbling good-naturedly, the runners filed out of Bow Street No. 4, but not before Eddie Sayer beseeched Sophia, "Do what you can to soften his temper. You're our only hope, milady."

  Laughing, Sophia threw her arms around Ross's neck and kissed his stern mouth. "There--will that serve to soften you?"

  A reluctant grin curved his lips, and he kissed her possessively. "I'm afraid it's having the opposite effect. But don't stop."

  She gave him a provocative glance from beneath her lashes. "No more until this evening. You have work to do."

  "Morgan will take care of it. I'll only stay long enough to attend to a few minor concerns, and then you and I are going on an errand."

  "What kind of errand?" She sighed as he kissed the side of her throat, his lips traveling in a leisurely path up to her ear.

  "We are going to look at something."

  "Something large or small?"

  "Large." He nibbled at a sensitive place on her neck. "Quite large."

  "What kind of--" she began, but he silenced her with a thorough kiss.

  "No more questions. Be ready to leave in an hour."

  Although Sophia had expected him to be delayed by work, Ross returned for her in precisely an hour and escorted her to their carriage. She pestered him with questions, but he was maddeningly taciturn, refusing to give any hint about the nature of the mysterious errand. As the carriage traveled westward, Sophia lifted a corner of the sheer panel that covered the window and watched the scenery outside. They passed spectacular arcades and markets where luxury goods were sold, including haberdashers, goldsmiths, button-makers, perfumers, and even a feather shop bearing the intriguing title of "Plumassier."

  As this was an area of London that Sophia had never visited before, she was fascinated by the masses of beautifully dressed people promenading through it.

  Ladies and gentlemen of distinction visited the confectioner's to eat ices, strolled through tea gardens, or stood at the window of a print shop to view racks of decorative cards. It was a world far removed from Bow Street, and yet it was located only a short distance away.

  The carriage conveyed them to Mayfair, the most fashionable location in London, where great family mansions were built in rows. They stopped in Berkeley Square, before a classically designed, triple-pedimented house. The large plate-glass windows gave the white stone facade a feeling of lightness and grandeur at the same time. One footman opened the carriage door and put down a movable step for Sophia. The other footman received a set of keys from Ross and dashed up the front steps.

  "Are we visiting someone?" Sophia asked, staring admiringly at the house.

  "Not precisely." Ross placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her up to the main entrance. "This house is owned by Lord Cobham, a contemporary of my grandfather's. He resides at his county seat and has decided to rent this place, as it remains unused most of the time."

  "Why are we here?" She entered the cool marble hall, which was devoid of furniture or artwork. Rich blue lapis columns and doorcases contrasted crisply with the gleaming white walls.

  Ross joined her, gazing upward at the gilded fretwork on the twenty-foot-high ceiling. "I thought that if this place pleases you, we might live here until our own house is built." He looked vaguely apologetic as he added, "It is unfurnished because Cobham took most of the family heirlooms with him to the country. If we take it, you will have to decorate it."

  Sophia could not reply, only stared at her surroundings in amazement.

  When it became clear that no immediate comment was forthcoming, Ross spoke matter-of-factly. "If you don't like the house, you have only to say so. There are other residences to consider."

  "No, no," Sophia said breathlessly. "Of course I like it. How could anyone not approve? It's just that you have caught me off guard. I...I thought we were going to live at Bow Street."

  He looked both appalled and amused by the idea. "God forbid. No wife of mine will take up residence at the public office. A place like this is more fitting, not to mention comfortable."

  "It's very grand," Sophia commented doubtfully, thinking privately that the word "comfortable" would be more accurately applied to a cozy cottage or a small town house. "Ross," she said carefully, "if you spend all your time working at Bow Street, I do not think I would like to be alone in such a large place. Perhaps we could find some nice terrace on King Street--"

  "You're not going to be alone." His eyes lit with amusement. "I've given enough of my life to Bow Street. I'm going to refashion the public office so that it can function without me. Then I'll recommend Morgan as the next Chief Magistrate, and step down for good."

  "But what would you do?" Sophia asked in dawning worry, knowing that he was too active to settle into a life of gentlemanly indolence. "I have more than a few reformist causes to occupy my time, and I need to take a stronger hand in running the Silverhill estate. I also plan to buy a part interest in a new railway company in Stockton, though God knows my mother will have apoplexy at such mercantile pursuits." He reached out and pulled her so close that her skirts swished around his legs and feet. His dark head lowered until their noses were almost touching. "But most of all," he murmured, "I want to be with you. I've waited long enough for this, and, by God, I'm going to enjoy it."

  Sophia stood on her toes, brushing her lips against his. Before Ross could intensify the kiss, she drew back and regarded him with a saucy smile. "Show me the rest of the house," she said.

 
The house was unexpectedly charming, many of the rooms shaped with rounded ends and fitted with niches and built-in bookshelves. The delicate pastel walls were framed with white molding, some panels filled with the fanciful shapes of winged gryphons and other mythical beasts. Fireplaces were made of carved marble, and the floors were covered with thick-piled French carpets. Here and there an odd piece of furniture had been left: a bow-fronted chest in one room, a japanned screen in another. In a back room on the second floor, Sophia discovered an intriguing oddity, something that resembled a chair but had been constructed in a queer fashion.

  "What is this?" she asked, walking around the piece, and Ross laughed.

  "A chamber horse. It has been years since I've seen one of these. Not since boyhood, actually."

  "What is it used for?"

  "Exercise. My grandfather had one. He claimed that it strengthened his legs and slimmed his waist whenever he had indulged a bit too often."

  She regarded him skeptically. "How is it possible to exercise on a chair?"

  "You bounce on it." He grinned in reminiscence. "On rainy days, when there was nothing else to do, Matthew and I jumped on Grandfather's chamber horse for hours at a time." Using his hand, he pushed on the seat, which had been upholstered with at least two and a half feet of cushioning. "This is filled with springs and dividing boards. Air is expelled through the holes on the sides."

  Ross sat on the chamber horse experimentally, holding the mahogany arms and resting his feet on the stepping board in front. He gave the chair a slight bounce, and the seat moved up and down with a creaking sound.

  "You look ridiculous," Sophia said, giggling at the sight of the dignified magistrate on the odd contraption. "Very well, I will agree to live in this house if you promise to dispose of that thing."

  His smiling gray eyes stared into hers, and he regarded her thoughtfully. When he spoke, his tone had lowered just a notch. "Don't be so hasty. You might want to use it sometime."

  "I don't think so," she said, her eyes sparkling. "If I want exercise, I will take a walk."

  "Do you know how to ride?"

  "No, I'm afraid I can't. Neither real horses nor chamber horses." "I'll teach you, then." His gaze traveled from her head to her toes in a single hot sweep. And then he astonished her by murmuring, "Take off your gown."

  "What?" She shook her head, bemused. "Here? Now?"

  "Here and now," he affirmed softly. He relaxed back in the chair, propping one foot on the stepping board. The wicked challenge in his eyes was unmistakable.

  Sophia regarded him uncertainly. Although she was by no means inhibited, she was hesitant to remove her clothes in a strange house in the middle of the day, with sunlight streaming through the uncurtained windows. Cautious but amenable, she started at the fastening at the neck of her gown. "What if we are interrupted?"

  "The house is empty."

  "Yes, but what if one of the footmen comes in here to ask something?"

  "They know better." He watched her hands alertly as she fumbled with her bodice. "Do you need help with that?"

  Sophia shook her head, feeling excruciatingly self-conscious as she stepped out of her shoes. She unfastened her dress, let it fall to the floor, and unhooked the front of her light corset. When that, too, was discarded, she was left in her knee-length chemise, cotton drawers, and stockings. A brilliant blush spread up to her hairline as she reached for the hem of the chemise and pulled it up to her waist. Pausing, she glanced at Ross's intent face.

  "Go on," he encouraged.

  She felt like a wanton, standing before him like one of the women who were paid to assume seductive poses at some of London's choice brothels. "If you were not my husband, I wouldn't do this," she said, and stripped off the chemise in a sudden decisive motion.

  A smile played on his lips. "If you were not my wife, I wouldn't ask you to." His gaze moved over her naked upper body, lingering on the curves of her breasts and the rosy peaks of her nipples. His breathing changed noticeably, and his fingers twitched as they rested on the arm of the chamber horse. "Walk to me--no, don't cover yourself."

  Sophia came to stand before him, gooseflesh rising on her skin as he touched her shoulder with a feathery stroke of his fingertips. His warm hand moved downward, tracing the shape of her breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple. She felt him pull at the tapes of her drawers, and they slid over her hips and down to the floor. Stepping out of them, she reached for her garters and stockings, but he caught her wrist.

  "No," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "I like the way you look in your stockings."

  Her gaze stole to the obvious bulge in his trousers. "Apparently so."

  He grinned and exerted more tension on her wrist, pulling her forward. "Climb onto my lap."

  Carefully she placed her stockinged foot on the stepping board; his hands clamped on her waist and lifted. She collapsed onto his lap in a giggling heap, her arms linking around his neck. The chair creaked loudly, and they sank downward several inches. "This isn't going to work," Sophia exclaimed, laughing uncontrollably.

  "Cooperate," he said sternly, his eyes smiling.

  "Yes, sir." Feigning meek obedience, she let him arrange her legs on either side of his lap, until her thighs were spread wide and she was left utterly vulnerable.

  Gradually the giggles died in her throat. "Are you going to removeyour clothes?" she asked, jumping a little as his hands slid to her bare bottom.

  He cupped her and lifted her body upward. "No."

  "But I want--"

  "Shhh." He took her nipple into his mouth, drawing with sweet, hot suction. At the same time his fingers wandered high inside her thigh, until the backs of his knuckles brushed across the patch of protective curls. Every time she moved, the chamber horse bounced gently, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck for balance.

  His finger slipped inside her and stroked until she was wet and throbbing. Closing her eyes against the dazzle of sunlight from the window, Sophia rested her cheek on his thick hair. As he suckled her breast, the scratch of his beard abraded her moist flesh.

  Too impassioned to wait, she reached down and tugged at the fastenings of his trousers. He caught her fumbling fingers and pushed them away. "Let me do it," he said with a soft laugh, "before you tear off the buttons."

  Panting, she pressed closer to him as he unfastened the row of buttons and freed his swollen erection. With a soothing murmur, Ross positioned her over his hips, canting them to just the right angle. She sank down eagerly, gasping as he filled her completely. Her hands clutched at the fabric of his coat, fingertips digging into the smooth broadcloth.

  "Hold onto me," he whispered. When she had wrapped herself around him, he picked his feet up from the stepping board and let the chamber-horse seat drop several inches in a sudden electrifying jolt. The movement forced Sophia harder onto the hilt of his shaft, and she whimpered in pleasure.

  Ross smiled as he stared into her wide, unfocused eyes. Color burnished the edges of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, and sweat misted his skin. His thighs went taut as he braced his feet on the board once more, then let them drop again. "Is this all right?" he murmured. "Is it too much?"

  "No," she gulped. "Do it again."

  Obligingly he began a bouncing motion that elicited a rhythmic squeak from the chamber horse. Air rushed from the contraction and expansion of the cushions like the sighing of fireplace bellows. Sophia held on tightly, her body gripping his intimately. Each drop of the seat caused the stiff, thick shaft to push harder inside her, again, again, until the stroking, grinding motion caused her to convulse in a release that had no end.

  Feeling the spasms of her body, Ross impaled her one last time and groaned in satisfaction. When at last he leaned backward with her body clasped in his arms, Sophia draped herself over him, utterly relaxed. Their bodies were still joined, and she moaned as he flexed inside her.

  "I think we'll keep this chair," he murmured into her hair. "One never knows when you'll need another
riding lesson."

  Until the rented house was furnished with the basic necessities, Sophia and Ross resumed their residence at Bow Street No. 4. While Sophia spent much of her time purchasing goods and furniture, hiring servants, and enduring countless hours of clothes fittings, Ross made good on his promise to arrange for his retirement. Sophia knew that it would not be easy for him to relinquish the considerable power he had accumulated. However, he seemed remarkably untroubled at the prospect. His life had been confined to one narrow channel for a long time, and now it was expanding with new possibilities. He had been an exceptionally serious man, one who rarely smiled or laughed. Now he was far more apt to smile and tease, displaying a playful side that Sophia found utterly charming. And he was a sensual lover, possessing her with an unbounded intimacy that left her utterly fulfilled.

  She had thought that she knew Ross quite well, having resided under the same roof with him. But she was gaining a far deeper understanding of him. Ross trusted her with his private thoughts and emotions, and he let her see him as he truly was--not a paragon, but a man with doubts and fears. He was capable of making mistakes, and he felt all too often that he had not met his own high expectations.

  To Ross's frustration, his efforts to persuade the Treasury to release funds to establish public offices and hire new magistrates for Middlesex, Westminster, Surrey, Hertfordshire, and Kent had so far come to naught. It seemed the government was unconvinced that such changes were justified, and that they would prefer to pay only one man to handle the great mass of responsibilities.

  "It's my own fault," Ross told Sophia grimly, sitting before the hearth in the bedroom with a glass of brandy in his hand. He drank the vintage without seeming to taste it. "I set out to prove that I could singlehandedly do it all, and now the Lord of the Treasury believes it is necessary to hire only one man as my replacement. I'm convinced that Morgan is entirely willing to succeed me as Chief Magistrate, but not at the expense of his family and personal life."