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“I hadn’t noticed,” he murmured. Even tears made her look beautiful. “Sophia.”
She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. The husky timbre of his voice was far deeper than she had heard from him before, and rumbled a shiver down her spine that raised her awareness of the molten warmth that started to unfurl deep within. She knew she should step away and put some decorous distance between them, but couldn’t bear to move. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t; she just couldn’t. She needed him there, right where he was, and it had nothing to do with her need of his help in how to deal with the thefts. This was more a feminine need; a call to something she knew only he could offer her.
It was with a sense of inevitability that she watched his head lower slowly towards hers. Her heart thundered rapidly in her ears, but she was oblivious to everything other than the sensations swirling through her. She was hot, then cold, but couldn’t think beyond anything other than the fact that they were as close as it was possible to get. Whenever he took a breath, his chest pressed against hers. Whenever she sighed, she felt the muscles in his chest jump. But she didn’t care about any of that.
This was what she wanted. He was what she wanted.
His lips shivered over hers with the finest feather-light touch. They swept one way and then another while he waited to see what she would do. Her sigh teased him, tempted him with a softness he couldn’t ignore. When she relaxed against him, he took advantage of her compliance and swept his lips across hers before he settled them more fully over hers.
Minutes could have turned into hours for all Sophia knew, or cared. Nothing mattered except them and what they were sharing. She couldn’t have stopped him if her life depended on upon it. She revelled in the new found sensations he created so very easily within her, and was immensely relieved she had unburdened herself to him. There was now nothing to fear; no barriers, fears, doubts, or worries to stand between them. It was liberating in a way, and a little awe inspiring to see the need she felt for him reflected back at her in his eyes. To her amazement she found she wanted to know what happened next; where this would lead them, and tipped her lips up to his in a silent plea for more.
“Sophia,” he growled as he pressed tiny kisses along her cheek. He rested his cheek against hers for a moment while he willed his body to cool, but the passion built steadily the more he tried to deny them. Having the luscious temptation of her lips so close was too much to resist. When she instinctively turned her face toward him, he couldn’t deny either of them.
This time, the kiss was different. The onslaught of passion assaulted them both and pummelled the tight control they attempted to keep. While lips plundered, hands roved in a quest to learn every dip and hollow while their bodies yearned for fulfilment.
“Sophia, we have to stop,” he whispered reluctantly when her hands swept over the thick muscles of his chest, and threatened to drive him over the edge.
For the first time in his life, he had been teetering on the brink of losing complete control, and it was so uncharacteristic of him that he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. He was just as stunned by that as he was about the fiery passion between them that had risen out of nowhere. He suddenly found that he wanted more from her. He wanted to know what she thought, felt, and expected of him. At some point over the last several moments, his fingers had tangled in the hair. Several pins had fallen out, and her long tresses had tumbled loose. They now lay in tousled abandon over her slender shoulders, and gave her a sultry look that was just as tempting as her rosebud mouth and lambent eyes.
“I know,” she whispered but made no attempt to move.
“Let’s go into the sitting room,” he suggested.
Rather than allow her to lead the way, he captured her hand in his and led her toward the warmth of the room he suspected she had just left. Sure enough, there was a goblet of brandy on the table beside one of the chairs situated in front of the roaring fireplace. Once they were seated as close as possible on the chaise, Jeb kissed her fingers and rested their entwined hands on his knee while he considered his words carefully.
“I saw you in the study earlier, Sophia. You were putting the stolen goods back.” It wasn’t a question.
Sophia nodded anyway. “There is acrimony between my aunt and me because she refuses to return them herself.”
This made Jeb’s brows lift in astonishment. “You tried to make her?”
“Yes. When I found out what she had been doing, I had to try to get her to return them. They aren’t hers. She has no right to keep them. I had to return the Harvell’s hairbrushes. They are impoverished enough as it is. It is cruel to let them suffer by stealing such necessities.” She made a quick decision and stood up. “Let me show you.”
She lit a candle and led the way upstairs to the spare room where she threw the door open and lifted the candle so Jeb could see the vast array of clothing inside.
“Good Lord,” he whispered. “There is enough here to fill a modiste’s shop.”
“I know, yet Delilah wants more. She need never shop for another dress for the rest of her life. Yet to her, every time she goes out she needs something new to wear. She is living beyond her means, I don’t mind telling you. It is why I am here.”
“How so?” Jeb took one look at the room, relieved Sophia of the candle and led the way back down the stairs, privately eager to get away from the temptation of the bedroom.
“
My father, Hooky, is a, well, sort of executor of an inheritance she received a long time ago from their mother. Hooky is her brother. Because he is the male of the family, he received an inheritance from my grandmother with the proviso that he looks after this trust for Delilah, which he has done for a very long time. The money was set aside and a reasonable amount handed over to her each month. However, over the last several years, Delilah has demanded more and more additional money. Of late, she has accepted her stipend, but then sent Hooky numerous bills for all sorts of things like clothing, food, new shoes, and so on, and even a lavish trip to London.”
“I am sorry,” Jeb interrupted. “Hooky?”
“My father. It is his nick-name. Everybody calls him Hooky, even me. His name is Horatio, but he won’t speak to you if you call him that.” She smiled when he grinned at her and slid an arm around her shoulders to hold her by his side.
“Go on,” he prompted, intrigued by her revelations.
“Hooky told her that she had to stop spending and use the stipend only, but he received no reply. He wrote to her again, and even got the solicitor to send a note, but she ignored them. He called in person a month or so ago.” She threw him a rueful look. “Although he didn’t go into too much detail, I think he was told to leave. She refuses to curb her lavish ways. She prefers to live the high life but won’t stop to consider that she doesn’t have the means to support it. Unfortunately, she is going to be destitute in a few years if she continues.”
“So your father sent you to speak to her?” Jeb asked.
He was glad she was here, but couldn’t see why Sophia should be sent to sort out the family’s problems. It was something the head of the family should do. If Hooky couldn’t get her to listen, then he should stop her stipend and just pay the bills she sent him until the account ran dry. As far as he was concerned, there were ways and means of dealing with someone of Delilah’s ignorance, and it didn’t include putting Sophia at risk.
“Yes. Although Delilah receives a sum of money far beyond what most people would earn in their entire lifetime, she still claims it is not enough.”
