wrists. She staggered to her feet and jerked at her clothes to rearrange them. Her face burned as she bent to tug her drawers upward and tie the dangling tapes at her waist. Her limbs were shaking from nerves and fear. Her body ached with unspent passion. She had never known such need, an unquenchable fire that burned with maddening ferocity.
Ross fastened his trousers and approached her from behind. The gentle clasp of his fingers on her shoulders made her flinch. She wanted to seize his hands and pull them to her breasts and beg him to give her the relief she craved. Instead she stood as stiffly as a statue while he nuzzled into her disheveled hair.
'Obviously I haven't done this for a while.' Irony washed through his voice. 'My sense of timing used to be much better.'
'We shouldn't have gone so far,' she said through lips that felt swollen. 'It was f-fortunate that we were not able to finish.'
His hands tightened on her shoulders. 'I'm going to finish it soon, by God. I'll come to your room later.'
'No,' she said instantly. 'My door will be locked. I-I don't want to discuss this, ever. As far as I'm concerned, it never happened.'
'Sophia,' he murmured, 'there is only one thing you can do to keep me from your bed--and that is to tell me that you don't want me.'
Ross waited with calculated patience while Sophia struggled until her chest felt as if it would burst. Every time she tried to speak, her throat closed, and her shoulders quivered within the supportive frame of his hands. 'Please,' she finally whispered, although she had no idea what she was asking him for.
His palm slid across her collarbone and pressed to the center of her chest, where her heartbeat could be felt through the thick fabric of her gown. 'We'll have our reckoning soon,' he said gently. 'There is nothing to be afraid of, Sophia.'
She pulled away from him with a sharp jerk. 'There is,' she said hoarsely, striding away from him. 'You just don't know it yet.'
CHAPTER 10
Sophia fled to her room and tried to restore herself. She washed with cold water, scrubbing her face until it was pink. After brushing her hair and pinning it in an excruciatingly tight coil, she returned to her duties, feeling dazed and frantic.
The murder game was soon declared over, and the guests proceeded to entertain themselves with a guessing game in which they gave imitations of classical statuary. Howls of laughter greeted each effort. Having received no education in art history, Sophia could not understand why the company seemed to find the game so uproarious. Absently she bade the footmen to clear away the tea dishes and port glasses. The kitchen scullery was crowded with maids washing flatware, crystal, and hundreds of plates. Thankfully, the other servants seemed too busy to notice Sophia's distracted manner.
As the hour of two o'clock approached, most of the guests retired for the evening, heading to their rooms where valets and ladies' maids waited to assist them.
Exhausted, Sophia supervised the cleanup of the common rooms, and praised the servants for a job well done. She finally went to her room, carrying a tinplate lantern fashioned in the shape of a cup with a pattern of punched holes. Although she was outwardly calm, her hand shook until the lantern caused brilliant dots to flutter across the wall like a cloud of fireflies.
When she reached her room, she closed the door and carefully set the lantern on the small rustic table in the corner. Only now, in the privacy of the bedroom, could she allow her tightly suppressed emotions to escape. Clutching the edge of the table for support, she bowed her head and sighed shakily. She stared at the tear-blurred light before her, reliving the moments of rapturous intimacy in Ross's arms.
'Ross,' she whispered, 'how can I leave you?'
A voice came from the shadows. 'I will never let you leave me.'
She whirled around, a cry caught in her throat. The uncertain light from the tinplate lantern played over the hard contours of Ross's face. He lounged on the small bed, so still and quiet that she had not seen him when she entered the room.
'You frightened the wits out of me!' she exclaimed.
He smiled slightly, unfolding his long frame from the bed. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured, coming to her. His fingertips drew through the wet trails on her cheeks. 'Why the talk of leaving? I didn't mean to upset you earlier. It was too soon--I shouldn't have approached you that way.'
That comment brought a fresh, stinging surge of salt water to her eyes. 'It's not that.'
He reached around to the back of her head and unfastened her hair, dropping the pins to the floor. 'Then what is it? You can tell me anything.' His fingers stroked her scalp and spread her hair over her shoulders in a rippling stream. 'You must realize that by now. Tell me, and I'll make it all better.'
The words made Sophia want to throw herself at him and weep and howl. Instead she closed her expression and glanced away from him. She forced words through her stiff lips. 'Some things cannot be made better.'
'What things?'
She wiped her palm over her cheeks and set her jaw to keep it from quivering. 'Please don't touch me,' she said in a raw whisper.
He ignored the plea and slid his arm around her, bringing her against his broad chest. 'You know how stubborn I am, Sophia.' His hand settled at the small of her back. Although his grasp was light, she knew that it would be impossible for her to break free. His lips brushed over her forehead as he spoke. 'I'm going to get the truth out of you sooner or later. Save us both time and tell me now.'
Despairing, she realized that Ross was going to persist until he had the answers he wanted, unless she found a way to stop him. 'Please leave my room,' she said distinctly. 'Or I am going to scream and tell everyone that you are forcing yourself on me.'
'Go ahead.' Ross waited, relaxed and calm, while she quivered with tension. A faintly arrogant smile touched his lips. 'You may as well learn now that it's useless to try and bluff me.'
'Damn you,' she whispered.
'I think you want to tell me.' He nuzzled the top of her head. 'I know that you've kept secrets from me since you first came to Bow Street. It's time to bring them to light, Sophia. Afterward there will be nothing left to fear.'
Sophia gripped the hard muscles of his arms and breathed jerkily. It was finally time to confess. She would have to tell Ross everything, and face the consequences. Vehement sobs pushed from her throat...abraded cries of ruined vengeance and hopeless love.
'Don't,' Ross murmured, gathering her protectively against his chest. 'Don't, Sophia. Sweetheart. It's all right.'
His tenderness was too much for her to bear. Sophia fought her way out of his arms and stumbled to the bed. She sat and blindly held up a hand to keep him at bay. The gesture, frail though it was, served to hold him back. He stood in the shadows, his large form nearly blocking out the glimmer of the tinplate lantern.
'I can't tell you if you touch me,' she said hoarsely. 'Just stay there.'
Ross was still and silent.
'You know about the months after my parents died,' Sophia said in a wretched whisper, 'when John and I were caught stealing. And I was taken in by my cousin Ernestine.'
'Yes.'
'Well, John would not go. He ran off to London instead. He continued to...to steal and do bad things, he...' She squeezed her eyes shut, but tears kept welling from beneath her lashes. 'He fell in with a gang of pickpockets. Eventually he was arrested and charged with an act of petty thievery.' She rubbed her hands over her streaming face and sniffled.
'Here,' Ross muttered, and she saw from the edge of her vision that he was extending a handkerchief. His face was grim, revealing how difficult it was for him to witness her distress and not be able to touch her.
Accepting the handkerchief, Sophia mopped her face and blew her nose. Wearily she resumed her story. 'He was taken before a magistrate who sentenced him to a year on a prison hulk. It was an unusually harsh sentence for such a trivial crime. When I learned of what had happened to my brother, I thought of going to London to visit
