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 heavy-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
