"Please..." Her hands clasped the back of his head, urging him downward. "Please, Ross."

"Do you want more?"

"Yes. Do it again,oh, yes --"

She whimpered as he bent and took her nipple into his mouth. He sucked steadily, nibbled with his teeth, while his fingers toyed with the hardening peak of her other breast. Sophia's fingers tangled in his hair, and she brought his head back to hers. She kissed him with an almost shocking intensity, as if nothing existed except the two of them on this bed. Her hands wandered over his back, exploring every plane and rise of muscle.

"Sophia," Ross said raggedly. "How many lonely years I've waited for you."

Her dazed blue eyes stared into his, her pupils dilating as she felt him pulling up the mass of her skirts. He found the shape of her knee, the tight band of the garter holding up her stockings, the frayed edge of her muslin drawers. His palm swept upward, locating the springy cushion at the top of her thighs. The hair prickled softly against the muslin, and Ross cupped her tenderly before moving to the curve of her belly. He found the tapes of her drawers, pulled them loose, and eased his hand beneath the layer of fabric. He pressed words of reassurance against her skin, his fingertips trailing into the damp triangle between her thighs. "So beautiful, Sophia, so sweet...how soft you are. Open for me. Yes."

Carefully he parted the swollen folds and stroked a gentle fingertip between them. Sophia jolted against him, and his hand stilled inside her drawers. "No, no," he whispered, "I won't hurt you. Let me."

He kissed her for a long time until she relaxed once more, and his fingers slid back between her legs. This time she did not resist. He brushed kisses across her parted lips, then moved to her ear and caught the delicate lobe in his teeth. "I want to make love to you," he murmured.

She hid her face against his neck while his hand continued to play softly. "Yes," she said, and burst into tears.

The sudden outbreak of emotion stunned him. Deducing that she was afraid, that she thought this experience would end as the last one had, he cradled her in his arms and kissed the salty wet curve of her cheek. His voice was rough with remorse. "Don't cry. Do you want to wait? It's all right, Sophia."

She held onto him with surprising strength, recklessly pressing her body against his. "I don't want to wait. Do it now.Now ."

The blonde curls pushed impatiently against his hand, inflaming him, and he responded with a groan of need. He inserted his finger into the opening of her body and thrust deep, while her saturated flesh clasped his knuckle. Sophia sobbed and squirmed, her mouth pressing against his neck in hot, open kisses. His finger withdrew from the tender folds between her thighs, and she jerked against him with a protesting cry. "Easy," he whispered. "Be patient, sweetheart."

"Please," she whimpered. "I need you. Please."

The shaft of his cock bobbed heavily as he settled himself atop her. He pushed the taut crest against her lush curls, his heart pounding fiercely as he began to enter her. "Put your arms around me," he said hoarsely.

Suddenly he heard a quiet sound...the betraying creak of the hallway floor, indicating that someone was walking toward his bedroom.

Savagely Ross considered killing whoever it was. After years of waiting, he had finally found his woman, his mate, and she was in his bed. He was in no mood to be interrupted. He rolled onto his side, and vicious pain knifed through his shoulder. He welcomed the excruciating ache, since it helped to distract him from the tormenting throb of his loins.

Sophia clung to him desperately. "Don't stop, don't, don't--"

Ross pulled her close and crushed his lips against her forehead. When he could manage to speak, his voice was raw with frustration. "Sophia, someone is coming. The door is unlocked. If you don't want to be seen with me like this, you have to get out of bed."

It took several seconds for her to comprehend his words. Abruptly the blood drained from her face. She clambered out of bed in a panicked flurry of sheets, covers, and rumpled skirts.

Jerking the sheets up to his waist, Ross rolled onto his stomach. He smothered a grunt of fury against the mattress. As he willed his tremendous erection to subside--without success--he heard the sounds of Sophia adjusting her clothing. She rushed to the washstand and began to make a great show of washing her hands, as if she had been busy preparing to change the wound dressing.

A quick knock came at the door, and Ernest's cheerful face appeared. The boy was oblivious to the thick tension in the room. "Good morning, Sir Ross! Eliza sent me to tell ye that yer mother will arrive soon. A footman just brought word o' it."

"Wonderful," Ross said through his clenched teeth. "Thank you, Ernest."

"Ye're welcome, sir!"

The errand boy scampered away, the door yawning wide open in his wake.

Ross lifted his head to stare at Sophia, who refused to turn and face him. The splashing of her hands ceased, and she spoke while staring into the turbulent water. "I-I've just realized that it would make more sense for me to change your bandage after you bathe. I will send Ernest up with some breakfast, and Lucie will fill the hip bath."

"Sophia," he said softly. "Come here."

She ignored the command and fled, her high-pitched voice floating behind her. "I'll return soon..."

Despite his acute frustration, Ross could not prevent a rumble of moody laughter in his chest. "Go, then," he said, dropping his head back on the pillow. "You can't avoid me forever."

Sophia raced to her room and shut the door, her heart pounding so violently that her chest ached. "Oh, God," she whispered. She wandered dreamlike to the small, rectangular looking glass on her dresser. Her hair was disheveled, her lips swollen. There was a scrape on the side of her throat. Touching it with curiosity, Sophia realized that the abrasion had been made by the bristle of Sir Ross's night-beard. How strange it was that her skin had been marked by a man's kisses, a physical sign of how utterly he had claimed her.

Laying her forearms on the dresser-top, Sophia closed her eyes and groaned. She had never felt so tortured, her body feverish with unfulfilled desire, her heart aching with the knowledge that she was a weak-willed traitor. Once Ross had started kissing her, she had yielded without another thought. She had intended to become his lover, but her wish for revenge had undergone a devastating reversal. She no longer wanted to punish him, no matter how much he deserved it. She wanted to love him, to give him every part of herself...and that would result not in his destruction, but in her own.

When Ross was finished with breakfast and his bath, Sophia ventured upstairs once more. He was back in bed, looking impatient, his fingers delving into the newly changed bed linens. She was transfixed by the sight of him shaved and damp, his hair brushed back, his skin tan against the snowy white pillows. The blue-gray velvet of his dressing robe made his eyes look like distilled moonlight.

He met her gaze without smiling. "I don't know how much more of this I can stand," he muttered.

At first Sophia thought he was referring to the intimacy between them, and she colored deeply. Then she realized that he was chafing at his bedridden condition. "The extra rest will benefit you," she said. "You do not spend enough time in bed."

"You could remedy that."

"I meantsleeping" A nervous laugh escaped her. "Sir Ross, if you insist on embarrassing me, I will have to ask Eliza to change your dressing."

"No, don't." His lips twitched with a faint smile. "I'll be good."

He kept his promise, remaining still while she applied a new dressing. Sophia frowned as she finished her handiwork, having noticed that the wound looked red and swollen, although there was no sign of foul drainage. She touched Ross's forehead, which felt dry and hot. "Your fever is a bit higher than before. How do you feel?"

"I want to get out of bed and do something."

Sophia shook her head. "You'll stay there until Dr. Linley advises otherwise. In the meanwhile, I think that you should not allow your visitors to tire you."

"Good," he said wryly. "That will be a convenient excuse to get rid of my family, or they'll sit here and gabble all day."

"Shall I prepare some refreshments?" she asked.

"God, no. That will keep them here longer." "Yes, sir." Although Sophia did not look at Ross, she felt his intent gaze on her.

"Sophia," he asked quietly, "what is the matter?"

She forced her lips into a bright, stiff smile. "Nothing!"

"About what happened earlier--"

To Sophia's intense relief, he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps and the hum of animated voices in the hall. Suddenly Eliza appeared in the doorway. "Sir Ross," she said, "Mrs. Cannon and Master Matthew have arrived--"

"Darling!" A tall, gray-haired woman swished past Eliza and went to the bedside. Her slim body was clad in a gown of sea-green silk; a hint of exotic perfume drifted in her wake. As her long hand caressed the side of Ross's face, the jeweled rings on her fingers glittered richly. Withdrawing to a corner of the room, Sophia viewed Mrs. Catherine Cannon with discreet interest. Ross's mother was not precisely a beauty, but she was so stylish and self-possessed that the overall effect was dazzling.

Ross murmured something to his mother, and she laughed as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Darling boy, I expected to find you gaunt and pale," she exclaimed. "Instead you look as well as I've ever seen you. Why, you've gained weight--almost a stone! It becomes you."