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His expression reminded her of Henry after having been caught with his fingers in the biscuit barrel, when he’d come to apologize—a genuine apology born of shame and regret, rather than merely the desire to assuage an angry parent.
She’d missed him—missed his companionship, his kindness—and the pleasure he’d given her. Only pride had compelled her to turn him away every time he’d tried to see her since her return to London. Pride and fear—the fear of risking her heart for the man she loved.
“You said some very cruel things, Adrian…”
“Very well,” he said. “I acted like an arse with bells and ribbons on.”
“Bells and ribbons?”
“Big pink fluffy ones.”
She struggled to stifle a smile. “If you’d let me finish,” she said. “You said some very cruel things, but I can understand why you said them. William was your friend, and the defense of a loved one is always to be admired.”
“Then I should have defended you,” he said. “William was my friend, and I loved him dearly. But that rendered me blind to his faults. I knew he was a rake. I was well aware of what he was capable of, and knew he had a weakness for liquor. His end was brought about by nothing else than his own weakness and folly. I can only apologize on his behalf for his reprehensible behavior toward you—and apologize for myself, for judging you. I know only too well how society views a fallen woman.”
He took her hand and drew her close.
“Sophia, my love, can you ever forgive me?”
He lifted his hand to her hair. “A yellow rose.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Thank you for sending them.”
He cupped her cheek and caressed her skin with his thumb. “You wear my gift. It fills my heart with hope that you might bring yourself to forgive me—and that, perhaps, one day, that forgiveness can turn into love.”
She tipped her face up. “I wear your gift, because I treasure it.”
He smiled, his lush, sensual mouth curling up. He parted his lips and his warm breath caressed her skin.
“Sophia,” he breathed. “Can you forgive me?”
She nodded and he drew close, his lips brushing against hers.
“Can you love me?” He placed a kiss against her lips and her skin tightened at the taste of him. “As I love you?”
“Adrian…”
His tongue probed against the seam of her lips—begging entrance. She parted her lips and with a groan he plunged his tongue inside, moving slickly against the roof of her mouth, swallowing her cry.
Strong, firm hands clasped her, holding her against his body, which vibrated with need as he deepened the kiss.
“Oh, Sophia!”
Her mind swirled with desire and she felt him, hot and hard, against her body. His mouth curled into a smile against her skin and he peppered a tail of insistent kisses along her chin until his mouth reached her ear where he drew her earlobe in between his teeth.
“Can you feel how much I desire you?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “I belong to you, Sophia. Do you belong to me? Do you need me, as I need you?”
She reached up and buried her hands in his hair, and a fire of pleasure coursed through her body. A warmth began to build in her center and she moved her body against his, parting her thighs to ease the ache.
“Shall we see the extent of your need?” His voice deepened and his breathing grew hoarse and he ran his hand along the front of her gown then cupped her breast. Her nipple peaked through the material against his palm and a growl of approval threaded through his body.
“So responsive,” he said. “Are you hungry for me?” He gave her breast a gentle squeeze and her body shuddered at the jolt of pleasure. Then he stilled his hand and she gave a whimper of disappointment, arching her back against his hand to chase the delicious friction.
“Ah,” he said. “I see the deprivation of my attentions has increased your need for me.”
“Why, you arrogant…”
He silenced her protest with his mouth while he pinched her nipple through the fabric of her dress, sending a bolt of pleasure through her, and a dull ache began to throb between her thighs.
