"This is what every man should come home to," Ross said with a grin, catching her around the waist and pressing a lusty kiss on her lips. "But why aren't we eating downstairs as usual?"

"We are celebrating something."

Ross studied her as he contemplated what the mysterious "something" could be. Gradually a cast of apprehensiveness came into his eyes, as if he suspected what she was going to tell him.

"Would you like to guess?" Sophia asked.

His tone remained relaxed. "I'm afraid I can't, my love. You may as well tell me." She took his hand and squeezed it hard. "Nine months from now, the Cannon family will have a new addition."

To her surprise, Ross's face froze for an instant. Quickly he masked his reaction with a smile and pulled her close. "Sweetheart," he murmured. "That is good news indeed. Although it is hardly unexpected after what we've been doing for the past three months."

She laughed and hugged him tightly. "I am so happy! I've been to see Dr. Linley, and he says I'm in the best of health and there is no reason to worry about anything."

"I have complete faith in his opinion." He kissed her forehead gently. "Do you feel well?"

"Yes." Sophia drew back and smiled at him, sensing that something was not quite right, but she could not identify the problem. Ross had certainly taken the news well. However, she had expected his reaction to be a bit more enthusiastic. Well, she reasoned, perhaps it was simply the difference between men and women. After all, to most men, matters relating to childbirth and children were strictly a woman's territory.

She let him seat her at the table, and the conversation passed from the subject of her pregnancy to that of the house they were soon to move into. A nursery would have to be set up, of course, and they would need to hire a nurserymaid. While they ate and talked, Sophia kept glancing at Ross, feeling that he was keeping something from her. His eyes revealed nothing, and his face looked as if it had been cast in bronze as the candlelight slid over his hard features.

When they finished eating, Sophia stood and stretched. "It is late," she said with a yawn. "Will you come to bed now?"

He shook his head. "I'm not ready to sleep yet. I'm going outside for a walk."

"All right," she said, her smile turning uncertain. "I will be waiting for you."

Ross disappeared from their private apartments as if he were escaping prison. Frowning at his odd behavior, Sophia went into the bedroom and washed her face with cool water. As she began to undo the buttons on her bodice in preparation for a sponge bath, some instinct prompted her to go to the window. Pushing the curtain aside, she stared at the courtyard that backed both buildings of the public office. Ross was there, his dark form illuminated by the moonlight, the crisp white of his shirtsleeves contrasting with the rich gleam of his waistcoat.

Sophia was perplexed to see him holding a cigar and what seemed to be a matchbox. Ross rarely smoked, and when he did, it was a social ritual performed in the company of others. He struck a match and endeavored to light the cigar, but his hands were unsteady, and the little flame shook violently in his grasp.

He was upset, Sophia thought in amazement. Not perturbed, but actually distraught, which she had never seen in him before. Quickly she refastened her bodice and went downstairs. How foolish she had been, not to realize what the news would do to him! Ross's life had been shattered because his first wife had died in childbirth. Now it must seem as if the entire hideous experience was beginning again.

As Ross was a supremely rational man, he would know that the chances of that happening again were very slight. However, he was no different from anyone else, in that his emotions occasionally eclipsed common sense. Perhaps no one would believe it of the invincible Chief Magistrate, but he had fears of his own, and this was perhaps the greatest.

Sophia went through the kitchen and out into the courtyard. Ross's back was turned toward her, and it stiffened as he sensed her approach. He had given up the attempt at smoking and merely stood with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his head bowed.

As she came closer, his voice emerged in a quiet growl. "I want privacy."

Sophia did not stop until she had pressed herself against his back and wrapped her arms around his midriff. Although Ross could have pulled away with ridiculous ease, he remained motionless in her grasp. Sophia's heart ached with compassion as she felt him trembling all over like a huge captive wolf, panicked by his confinement.

"Ross," she said softly, "everything is going to be fine."

"I know that."

"I don't think you do." She laid her cheek on his back and tightened her arms around his lean waist while she fumbled for the words that would comfort him. "I'm not fragile, as Eleanor was. It won't happen again. You must believe me."

"Yes," he agreed instantly. "There's no reason for worry." But the tremors continued, and there was a ragged edge to his breathing.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she said. "Your real thoughts, not what you believe I want to hear."

Ross waited so long to answer that she thought he had refused her, until he forced words out between abbreviated breaths. "I knew this would happen...I prepared myself...there is no logical reason to fear it. I want this child. I want a family with you. But no matter what I tell myself, I can't help remembering...Oh, God, you can't know what it was like!" His voice cracked, and she knew that the dark memories were assailing him faster than he could defend himself.

"Ross," she demanded, "turn and face me. Please."

He seemed dazed as he complied. Immediately she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself to his big, warm body. He seized her as if she were a lifeline, his arms clamping onto her in a desperate vise.

Sophia smoothed her hands over his back and kissed his ear. His fingers clenched in her hair and her clothes, and he gripped her while his lungs moved in shuddering sighs. Sophia placed her hands on either side of his damp, hot face and urged it to hers. His thick lashes were spiked with tears, and he seemed to be staring through the gates of hell. Tenderly she kissed his stiff lips.

"You will never be alone again," she promised. "We are going to have many healthy children, and grandchildren, and we will grow old together."

He nodded, clearly trying to make himself believe her.

"Ross," she continued, "I'm not like Eleanor in any way, am I?"

"No," he replied gruffly. "Our entire relationship, from the moment it started until now...not a moment of it has been similar to what you experienced with Eleanor, has it?"

"Of course not."

"Then why do you believe it will end the same way?"

He did not answer, only crushed his lips to her temple and stood holding her in a desperate grip.

"I don't know why Eleanor had to die in such a manner," Sophia said. "It wasn't her fault, and it certainly wasn't yours. It was beyond your control. Until you stop holding yourself responsible for what happened to her, you will continue to be haunted by the past. And in punishing yourself, you will punish me as well."

"No," he breathed, clumsily stroking her hair, her neck, her back.

"Your guilt does her no honor." Sophia drew back to stare into his contorted face. "Eleanor would have hated to know that you were worse off for having loved her."

"I'm not!"

"Then prove it," she challenged, her own eyes misting with emotion. "Live as she would have wanted, and don't blame yourself any longer."

Ross huddled over her, and Sophia held him with all her strength. His beard-roughened face scraped hers as he sought her lips, found them, and kissed her almost angrily. She opened to him, accepting his passionate aggression. His hands searched her body roughly, emotion transforming into raw physical need.

"Upstairs," she said. "Please."

With a savage groan, he picked her up and headed into the house, not stopping until he had reached their bedroom.

Sophia awakened alone and naked beneath the rumpled bedclothes. She had slept late, she thought groggily. There was much to do today--meetings with an interior decorator and a master gardener, and a charity luncheon to attend. But somehow the thought of all that did not bother her nearly as much as it should have.

A drowsy smile curved her lips as she rolled onto her stomach. Memories of Ross's lovemaking swirled in her head. He had reached for her countless times in the night, lavishing her with passionate attention until she had finally begged him to cease. Now she was sore everywhere, and she felt the sting of whisker burns in indecent places, and her lips were chapped and kiss-swollen. And she was utterly satisfied, her body filled with luxurious contentment.

She asked Lucie to fill a slipper-bath for her, and she took her time about selecting her clothes for the day, a peach corded silk trimmed with fluted bands at the waist and hem. When the bath was ready, she lowered

CHAPTER 17

Herself into the steaming water with a sigh, letting the heat soothe her abraded skin and sore muscles. Afterward she dressed and arranged her hair in a newly fashionable style, parted on the right with curls pinned on the left side.

Just as she reached for a bonnet trimmed with sprigs of hydrangea, Lucie entered the apartments with a hasty knock.

"Have you come to empty the bath?" Sophia asked.

"Yes, milady, but...they sent Ernest across the way wiv' a message. Sir Ross wants ye, an' 'e's asking for ye to come to 'is office."