“I didn’t think you’d—”
“You didn’t think I’d be able to help myself? Well, you were right.” He laughed, but it was hard and bitter. “I saw you from my window and told myself it was best to just leave you alone, and let you return to No. 26 Maddox where you belong. What if I’d decided to do that, after all? What if I’d waited another ten minutes before going after you? You’d be dead by now!”
She said nothing, but her face drained of color.
“Look at you.” He jerked his chin toward her bloody knees, then snatched her hand up and dragged it toward him, his breath coming faster as he stared down at her ravaged palms. “You’re hurt, and this is nothing—nothing—to what it might have been.”
Sophia snatched her hand away. “It’s a few scrapes and bruises, Tristan. I’ve had worse. I’m a bit battered, yes, but I’m hardly atdeath’s door.”
“Damn you, don’t make light of it.” The words felt as if they’d been ripped from Tristan’s throat. “You might have ended this night at death’s door. It’s mere chance only you didn’t. Why did you come here tonight, Sophia? You’ve gotten what you wanted. Jeremy Ives is free. Your part in this business is finished.”
“Nothing is finished until Peter Sharpe and Henry Gerrard’s killer are made to pay for their crimes. What did you think, Tristan? That I’d skip blithely away once Jeremy was safe? Patrick Dunn, and Mr. Gerrard’s wife and son—do you think it doesn’t matter to me if they ever see justice?”
He…hadthought so. Not just Sophia, but Lady Clifford, and Daniel Brixton. All of them. How could he have been so blind? She’d spoken to him of justice many times, told him over and over again she believed it should belong to everyone equally, but he hadn’t truly listened to her, and now he’d made a terrible mistake.
Sophia read the truth on his face, and her own face fell. “Oh. Youdidthink so.”
“Sophia—”
She jumped to her feet so quickly she sent the tray crashing to the ground. “I-I think it’s best if I return home, after all. I won’t trouble you again, Lord Gray.”
“No. Wait.” Tristan shot to his feet and went after her, his heart in his throat. “I’m sorry. Can you…will you forgive me?”
She kept her face turned away from him, but Tristan could feel her trembling. God, he couldn’t let her leave, not like this. “Please, Sophia. I should never have said it, or even thought it. I know it’s not true. I want…will you let me take care of you?”
She hesitated for what felt like a lifetime to Tristan, but then finally, a silent nod.
He took her hand in his, careful not to touch her wounded palm, and led her back to the sofa. “Your hands and knees, and your head.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead, frowning as he traced the knot there. “Your mouth.” He brushed a fingertip over her lower lip, his chest squeezing at the drop of blood at the corner. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
He wasn’t just referring to having knocked her down, and Sophia seemed to understand this. Her green eyes darkened as they flickered over his face. “You followed me tonight. I needed you, and you were there.”
Needed him…
Tristan stared down at her, stunned, but he didn’t press her on how she meant those words. Perhaps he would, later, but now he needed to touch her. He took her face between his palms and stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Sophia?”
She knew what he was asking, and parted her lips in invitation. He brushed his mouth over her lower lip to soothe her hurt, and tasted her bloodon his tongue.
Chapter Fourteen
If their kiss earlier that day had been darkness, this one was pure, sweet light.
Tristan didn’t let himself think about whether he should be kissing her. He didn’t think about anything but the heady taste of her lips under his, her warm sighs in his mouth, the silky curls of her hair tickling his fingers.
He caught a loose lock of it and caressed the thick strands. “I’ve never felt anything so soft.”
Sophia twined her arms around his neck, sifting her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “Softer than my lips?” she asked, a teasing glint in her eyes.
“There’s nothing in the world softer than your lips.” Tristan’s cheeks heated at the extravagant compliment. He wasn’t the sort of man who indulged in poetic ramblings about his lady’s lips, but then not every lady had lips likehers. He couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping once again to that sultry pout.
He ducked his head to take her mouth again, more insistently this time. He slid the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips, then dragged his finger down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “Open for me, Sophia,” he murmured, strokingthe tender skin
She opened her mouth with a soft gasp and a low, hungry growl vibrated in Tristan’s chest. He sank into her damp, pink mouth, knowing as he did, he could only savor her for the briefest moment. It was like offering a starving man a single grape from a feast spreadout before him.
I can’t make love to her…
She was in a vulnerable state, her body scraped and bruised. Only the worst sort of rake would take advantage of a lady who’d just been attacked. Tristan was no rake, but even so the warning drifted through his head, there and then gone again.
He couldn’t make himself release her. Not when she was so close, her sweetly parted lips a mere breath from his. He sank his hands into her hair and eased her head back so he could feast on her neck. He nibbled at her silky skin, chasing her flush of arousal to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse fluttered against his tongue, the skin there warm and faintly scented with honeysuckle, and he couldn’t stop himself from scoring it lightly with his teeth before skimming lower to drop kisses between her breasts.
