Lady Sophias Lover bsr-2

by Lisa Kleypas

"No one but you could handle so much," Sophia said, taking the empty glass from his hand. She sat on the arm of his chair and caressed his dark hair, her fingers trailing gently over the threads of silver at his temple. "And even you were suffering under the weight of all that work, although you were too stubborn to admit it."

  He looked up at her and seemed to relax slightly. "Until you appeared," he murmured. "Then I realized what was missing in my life."

  "Such as food and sleep?" she suggested, her eyes twinkling.

  "Among other things." His hand clasped her ankle and ventured beneath her skirts to her knee. "And now nothing is going to keep me from you."

  Sophia continued to stroke his hair. "It may take some time for you to implement so many changes," she said. "There is no need for urgency on my account. Although I want you all to myself, I will wait as long as it takes."

  Ross's gaze was warm as he stared up at her. "Idon't want to wait." Tracing circles over her knee, he grinned suddenly. "It's ironic, isn't it? For years people have complained about my usurpation of power. But now that I want to leave Bow Street, no one wants me to go. The critics accuse me of abandoning my responsibilities, and the government ministers are offering me all manner of incentives to stay."

  "That's because there is only one Sir Ross Cannon, and everyone knows it." Sophia drew her fingers lightly over the hard edge of his jaw. "And you're mine," she added in satisfaction.

  "Yes." He turned his mouth into her palm, his eyes closing. "It has been a long, hellish day. I need something to help me forget about parliamentary funds and judicial reform."

  "More brandy?" Sophia asked sympathetically, rising from the chair.

  That drew a sudden laugh from him. "No, not brandy." He stood and caught her waist, urging her closer. "I had a different remedy in mind."

  Anticipation curled inside her, and she linked her arms around his neck. "Whatever you wish," she told him. "As your wife, I want to be helpful."

  Ross chuckled at her prim tone and nudged her toward the bed. "Oh, you will be quite helpful," he assured her, following closely at her heels.

  Because Sophia was the object of much curiosity, she and Ross were invited everywhere, by politicians and professionals and even some upper-tier aristocrats. However, they accepted only a handful of invitations, for Sophia found it difficult to adjust to the new life she had stepped into. Having worked for so many years as a servant, she could not seem to interact comfortably in elevated social circles, no matter how kind her new acquaintances were. She felt awkward and stiff at most gatherings, although Ross's mother assured her that she would feel more comfortable as time passed. She found it somewhat easier to mix with "second-tier" sorts, such as Sir Grant and his wife, Victoria, and the crowd of professionals who were not nearly as rarefied as those in the first circles. These people were far less pretentious, and far more aware of ordinary matters like the cost of bread and the concerns of the poor.

  Ross helped a great deal to ease her worries. He never belittled her fears or lost his patience with her. If Sophia wished to speak with him, he would interrupt whatever he was doing, no matter how important. On the evenings when they attended a soiree or went to the theater, Ross treated her with such attentiveness that other wives were moved to remark sourly that their own husbands should be half so solicitous oftheir comfort. It was the subject of much conversation, how greatly changed the Chief Magistrate was, and how such a serious-minded gentleman could have transformed into an obviously adoring husband. Sophia thought that the reason behind Ross's devotion was quite simple: having been alone for so long, he had a hard-won appreciation for the pleasures of marriage. He did not take his happiness for granted. And perhaps in some corner of his heart he feared that it all might be taken away in the blink of an eye, just as it had with Eleanor.

  Frequently Ross would take Sophia for weekend visits to Silverhill Park where they attended water parties, went on picnics, or simply walked through the countryside to enjoy the fresh air and lush green views. Catherine Cannon loved to entertain, and in the summer months the mansion was constantly filled with friends and relatives. Sophia enjoyed these visits, forming a close relationship with her mother-in-law and even with Iona, her sister-in-law. Now that they had spent some time becoming familiar, Iona had thawed out considerably, although there was an ever-present sadness in her pale blue eyes. It was obvious that her melancholy stemmed from her marriage to Matthew. She even went so far as to confide to Sophia that Matthew had seemed an entirely different man before their wedding.

  "He was quite charming," Iona said, her bitter expression somehow jarring on such an angelic countenance. She and Sophia sat on chairs that had been placed in front of a stone boundary wall covered with spilling roses that bloomed fiercely in the heat of high summer. In front of them, a small knot garden and an ivy-covered arch led to wide expanses of green lawn.

  As Iona gazed absently into the distance, the sunlight brushed over her exquisite profile and turned her hair into a swirl of sparkling gold. "Of all the men who courted me, Matthew was the most impressive. I adored his wicked humor and, of course, his looks. He was so very charming." A humorless smile twisted her perfect lips. She paused to take a long drink of lemonade, and its sour taste seemed to linger in her mouth as she continued. "Unfortunately, I discovered later that certain men are only interested in the chase. Once the object of their desire is attained, they become indifferent."

  "Yes," Sophia said, thinking of Anthony. "I have encountered that kind of man."

  Iona's smile was resigned. "Of course, I am hardly the only woman who has been disappointed in love. I have a comfortable and pleasant life. And Matthew is not a bad man, only a self-centered one. Perhaps if I could lure him to my bed often enough, I could have a child. That would be a great consolation to me."

  "I hope you will," Sophia said sincerely. "And perhaps Matthew will improve. Sir Ross says that he is doing quite well with his new responsibilities." In the past few weeks, Ross had forced his younger brother to have regular meetings with the estate agent, to learn about accounting, management, farming, taxes, and all the minutiae involved in running the Silverhill estate. Although Matthew had protested long and loud, he had had little choice but to comply with Ross's dictates.

  Iona used a long, perfectly filed fingernail to retrieve a fleck of dust that had settled inside the rim of her glass. "I suppose if you could cause Sir Ross to change so completely, there is a chance for my husband."

  "Oh, I haven't changed him," Sophia protested.

  "You most certainly have! I never thought to see Sir Ross so besotted. Before he married you, one could barely get two words out of him. Now he seems a different man altogether. It is strange--until lately, I've always been a bit frightened of him. He has a way of looking right through one. I am certain that you know what I mean."

  "Yes, I do," Sophia said with a wry smile.

  "And his remarkable reserve...Sir Ross never lowers his guard for anyone but you." Iona sighed and tucked a stray wisp of glinting hair behind her ear. "I used to think that between the two brothers, I'd gotten the better bargain. Even with Matthew's faults, at least he was warm and human, whereas Sir Ross seemed so utterly passionless. Now it has become apparent that your husband is not the cold automaton we all thought him to be."

  Sophia colored as she replied, "No, he is definitely not."

  "I envy you for being loved by a man who does not stray from your bed."

  They sat in companionable silence for a while, each lost in her own thoughts. A bee droned lazily amid the roses, and the servants' bell clanged faintly from inside the mansion. Sophia was amazed as she reflected on how she herself had changed in such a short time. Not long ago, she had thought that what she wanted most in the world was to marry Anthony. But if she had married him, or a man similar to him, she would be exactly like Iona--bitter and betrayed, with little expectation that the future would be any better. Thank God, she thought fervently...thank God for not granting certain wishes, and f
or guiding her to a far sweeter fate.

  As the warmth of the day increased, the Cannons and their guests elected to nap or relax indoors. However, Ross had never napped in his life, and the very idea of sleeping in the middle of the day was inconceivable to him. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested to Sophia.

  "Awalk ? But everyone is resting comfortably inside," she protested.

  "Good," he said in satisfaction. "Then we'll have the entire outdoors to ourselves."

  Rolling her eyes, Sophia went to change into her lightest dress, then accompanied him on a stroll through the countryside. They walked toward the town until the steeple of the local church was visible in the distance. As they approached a grove of walnut trees, Sophia decided that she'd had quite enough exercise. Declaring that she needed to rest, she tugged Ross beneath the shade of the largest tree.

  Agreeably, Ross sat with his arms around her, the neck of his shirt open to catch the occasional cooling puff of a breeze. Talking idly, they discussed subjects that ranged from the serious to the trivial. Sophia had never imagined that a man would listen to a woman as he did. He was attentive, interested, never mocking her opinions even when he disagreed with them.

  "You know," she told him dreamily, lying across his lap and staring at the dark, saucer-sized leaves overhead, "I think that I enjoy talking with you even more than making love with you."

  A lock of black hair fell over Ross's forehead as he looked down at her. "Is that a compliment to my conversational skills, or a complaint about my lovemaking?"

  She smiled as she caressed his shirt-covered chest. "You know that I would never complain aboutthat . It's just that I never expected to have this kind of relationship with a husband."

  "What did you expect?" Ross asked, clearly amused.

  "Well, the usual sort of arrangement. We would discuss light things, nothing improper, and we would have our separate areas of the house, and spend most days apart. You would visit my room some nights, and of course I would consult with you on certain matters..." Sophia paused as she saw the odd look that crossed his face.

  "Hmm."

  "What?" she asked, perturbed. "Did I say something that bothered you?"

  "No." His expression was contemplative. "It occurred to me that you just described the kind of marriage I had with Eleanor."

  Sophia sat up from his lap and smoothed her untidy hair. Ross mentioned his first wife so seldom that there were times Sophia actually forgot that he'd been married before. He seemed to belong to her so completely that she had difficulty imagining him living with another woman, loving her, holding her in his arms. Feeling a sharp bite of jealousy, Sophia strove to appear serene.

  "Did you find it a pleasant arrangement?"

  "I suppose I did." His gray eyes were thoughtful. "But I doubt I would be satisfied with that now. I've come to want something different in a relationship." A long hesitation passed before he murmured, "Eleanor was a good wife...but so very delicate."

  Sophia plucked a blade of grass and examined it closely, twirling it in her fingers. She wondered what had attracted him to such a fragile, excessively ladylike creature. It seemed an ill-fitting match for a man who was so robust.

  Somehow Ross was able to read her thoughts. "Eleanor appealed to my protective instinct" he said. "She was lovely and frail and helpless. Every man who ever met her wanted to take care of her."

  The needles of jealousy jabbed Sophia despite her efforts to ignore them. "And naturally you could not resist."

  "No." Ross propped up one knee and rested his arm on it, watching her lazily as she pulled at more bits of grass. Her tension must have been visible, for after a moment he asked softly, "What are you thinking?"

  Sophia shook her head, embarrassed by the question that had come to mind, a question that was completely pointless and prying, and obviously born of jealousy. "Oh, it's nothing."

  "Tell me." His hand settled over her plucking fingers. "You were going to ask about Eleanor."

  She looked up at him, turning pink. "I was wondering how someone so fragile could have satisfied you in bed."

  He was very still, a breeze lightly lifting the lock of hair off his forehead. The consternation on his face was easy to read. He was too much of a gentleman to answer such a question, as he would never dishonor the memory of his wife. But as their gazes held, Sophia read his unspoken reply, and it soothed her immeasurably.

  Feeling reassured, Sophia turned her palm upward and slipped her fingers through his. He bent over her, his lips brushing hers in a husbandly kiss. Although he had not intended the gesture as a sexual advance, the taste of him was so intoxicating that Sophia slid her hand behind his neck and kissed him harder. Ross pulled her over his lap and took full advantage of her invitation. Her arms went around his back, fingers splaying over the hard flex of muscle. She sighed and squirmed deliciously as she felt his arousal rising beneath her.

  The quiet catch of his laughter tickled her ear. "Sophia...you're going to cripple me."

  She loved the way he looked at her, the dance of silver flame in his eyes. "I can hardly believe," she said in a passion-drowsed voice, "that a man with your appetite could have remained celibate for five years."

  "I wasn't celibate the entire time," he admitted.

  "You weren't?" She sat bolt upright in his lap. "You never told me that. Whom did you sleep with?"

  Ross pulled the tortoiseshell comb from her hair and sifted his fingers through the rippling golden locks. "The widow of an old friend. For the first year after Eleanor died, I could not even contemplate making love to another woman. But eventually I had needs..." He paused, looking uncomfortable, and his hand stilled in her hair. "Yes?" Sophia prompted. "And you renewed your acquaintance with this widow?"

  He nodded. "She was similarly lonely, and also desirous of intimacy, so we met discreetly for about four months, until..."

  "Until?"

  "She began to cry one day after we..." A flush of embarrassment crept over his face. "And she said that she had fallen in love with me. She told me that if I did not return her feelings, she could not continue the affair, as it would be too painful for her."

  "Poor lady," Sophia said, feeling genuine sympathy for the widow. "And so the relationship ended."

  "Yes. And afterward I felt a great deal of guilt for the pain I had caused her. I also learned something--that as pleasant as the affair had been, it was not nearly as fulfilling without love. So I decided that I would wait until I found the right woman. That was three years ago. The time passed quickly, especially since I was occupied with work."

  "But there must have been nights when you found it impossible," Sophia said. "A man of your physical nature..."

  Ross smiled wryly, not quite meeting her gaze. "Well, there are ways a man can solve that problem by himself."

  "You mean you..."

  He looked at her then, a touch of color lingering on his cheekbones. "Haven't you?"

  The canopy of leaves rustled over them, and a lone bird chirped innocently, while Sophia struggled to answer. "Yes," she finally admitted. "Not long after you were shot. You remember that morning when you kissed me and took me into your bed, and we almost..." Her scalding blush spread everywhere. "After that, I couldn't stop thinking about the way you touched me, and one night the feelings were so desperate that I--" Mortified, she put her hands over her face with a groan.

  Ross twisted his hand in her hair and eased her head back, smiling as he kissed her. Still red-faced, Sophia relaxed in his lap and closed her eyes against the splashes of sunlight that slipped through the swaying branches overhead. His mouth possessed hers with slow, tempting kisses, and she did not protest when she felt him unfastening her clothes. His hands slipped inside the garments to fondle her breasts, hips, thighs.

  "Show me," he murmured, his lips at her throat.

  "Show you what?"

  "How you pleasured yourself."

  "No," she protested, giggling nervously at the outrageous request. He persisted, however, coaxi
ng and teasing and demanding until she acceded with an embarrassed sigh. Her hand trembled as she reached down to the place he had exposed, her drawers at her knees, her skirts rucked up to her waist. "There," she said, breathing fitfully. Ross's fingers lightly covered hers, learning the small, subtle motion. Her hand fell away, and he continued to caress her. "Like this?" he murmured.

  She writhed in his lap, breathing too hard to speak.

  A tender smile curved his lips as he watched her taut face. "Now, isn't this better than napping?" he asked, his fingers circling wickedly.

  Suddenly lost to shame, she purred and twisted in his lap as sensations flowed over her in an endless river.

  The only obstacle to Sophia's happiness was her growing concern for her brother. Nick cut a swath through London with the same cheerful carnage as always, acting alternately as a master criminal and a "thief-taker general." Society was divided in its opinion of him. Most still regarded him as a dashing public benefactor for his ability to track and arrest thieves and persuade gang members to inform on each other. However, a small but growing number of people were beginning to condemn his corrupt methods. "When Gentry enters the room," it was said, "one can smell the brimstone." It was clear that despite the power he held in the underworld, his throne was an unstable one.

  After Sophia had sent Nick the information he had requested, he did not ask her for additional favors, nor was there any further mention of blackmail. From time to time he sent her notes that expressed his brotherly devotion, having an errand boy slip them to her undetected. It broke Sophia's heart to read these short letters, for her brother's lack of education was more than obvious. The words were labored and misspelled, but his fanciful intelligence and cautious love for her shone through. The notes gave her glimpses of what kind of man Nick could have become. If only his ambition and keen mind could have been turned to good purposes instead of wicked ones, she reflected sadly. Instead her brother was busy developing an extensive network of spies and informers all over London, not to mention a virtual corporation of thieves. He ran a sophisticated smuggling operation that imported huge quantities of luxury goods and distributed them with stunning efficiency. Nick was smart, bold, and ruthless, a combination of characteristics that made him a criminal mastermind. And what Ross had not admitted to Sophia--but was perfectly clear just the same--was that he wanted to bring Gentry down before he himself retired.