Holding her ballooning skirts down with one hand and her bonnet on with the other, Sophy kept walking slowly. She was not surprised to find her reverie drifting to Seth, nor did she wonder why she was thinking of him now. He seemed to fill all her thoughts.
The sound, the touch, the impact, the smell of him had stayed with her for hours. It seemed to flood through every corner of her mind, just as the keen air was pushing through her clothes to every part of her body. He felt so close! It was like a dream. It was because it was like a dream that she took no notice when she heard a sharp peal, as of a struck bell.
Suddenly, all hell seemed to break loose.
As Seth limped past the haul-back cable toward the barge, he saw the line come slack. His response was instinctive. Flinging himself across the dock, he hit her in a tackle that brought them both crashing to the timber boardwalk just as the cable whipped sideways, the sibilant hiss only inches above their heads. Another flicker of an instant, perhaps a tenth of a second, and he would have been too late.
Sophy lay immobilized, her breath crushed from her lungs. As she heard the sudden commotion of voices, she became acutely aware of the vibrantly male presence pressing her down...broad shoulders, strong forearms and thigh muscles like steel.
Groggily, she attempted to sit up as the body rolled off her, but fell back, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs worked like bellows, in an effort to get enough air inside her. She was aware of her whole body gasping.
“What the bloody hell do you think you were doing bringing her down here while they’re unloading timber!” Seth exploded. His voice was harsh, filled with fury.
As though through a mist, Sophy heard the raised, angry voices. She opened her eyes. Seth and Charles were there, and Bernard. Her cousin stood with legs braced as though to spring into counterattack as Seth gave him a thorough tongue-lashing.
Seth was taut, incensed, his blue eyes blazing, his finely cut face set, as if on some old Roman coin. His tone of voice had turned savage, and the veins stood out on the sides of his temples.
Sophy felt her stomach contract in sudden panic. The sight of her husband and cousin standing on the very brink of violence stunned her. She struggled to rise, to speak, but her limbs and throat would just not obey.
Only sounds amplified in her head. The jagged beat of her pulse. The inner rush of her own fear.
She tried to raise her arms but they felt as if they belonged to another person. There was no strength left within her.
She tried again, “Seth...” before her voice faded and the swirling mists thickened into the darkness of oblivion.
As though attuned to Sophy’s mental airwaves, Seth broke off in mid-sentence and ran to her side before she fell to the ground. He swallowed hard at the broken sound of her voice, the harsh tension leaving his body as he gathered her close.
Holding her as though he would never let her go, he stumbled grim faced toward the shipping office.
Sophy slowly opened her eyes, and groaned softly. She felt as if she’d been knocked over by a steam engine! Every part of her ached, but moved without difficulty. As she lifted her arm to push a strand of hair off her face, her eyes were caught by several bruises marring the creamy skin.
She lay puzzled for a moment, then sat up abruptly as the memories came crowding back. It was the sound of raised angry voices that had brought her back to awareness at the docks. Seth, Bernard and, confusingly, Richard Carlton were shouting at one another, the words cutting back and forth like knives. She could not understand the words, but she knew they were there.
Seth’s arms had been clamped around her body like imprisoning bands of steel. As she struggled to free herself, he had stopped in the middle of a sentence, to look down, eyes blazing blue sparks.
“Are you all right?” he whispered, setting her on her feet.
Sophy nodded, not daring to speak, and allowed him to lead her to a chair. She sat there trying to control the tremors that continued to shake her.
Cursing under his breath, Seth began issuing harsh instructions to Richard Carlton and Bernard. Charles seemed to have disappeared. In what seemed like moments to Sophy, she had been transported back to Fifth Avenue, into the charge of Tessa, who had promptly insisted she rest.
Feeling somewhat restored, she now slid off the bed. It was time to face Seth with the truth. There was obligation. There was duty. As her father often said:
To see what is right and not do it is cowardice
. Too impatient to call Tessa for assistance, she gave her hair a cursory brushing to remove any tangles, and went in search of Seth.
Reluctant to face him, she hesitated in the partly open doorway. It had to be done. Deliberately she made herself relax, fortifying herself with a deep breath. One hand on the doorknob, she swept a quick glance across the living room, past the fluted columns with their gilded trim and the low table decorated with mother-of-pearl, to Seth seated in a deep cushioned chair in front of the carved fireplace.
Only the low-burning fire illuminated the room. He was so magnificently masculine and wonderfully handsome in the soft glowing light that Sophy’s breath caught in her throat. Insides jumping with foreboding, she tightened her grip on the door so much that her knuckles showed white.
As if suddenly alerted by her interest, Seth swiveled in his chair and turned his head in her direction. The vision of Sophy with her dark hair cascading around her shoulders set his heart pounding.
His blue eyes, dark with sudden intensity, devoured her face with unblinking scrutiny. He studied her for a moment, absorbing the wide gray eyes riveted to his, the crisp, straight nose, the unsmiling lips.
Sophy’s heart swelled, and she felt a wave of deep shyness go through her. Words failed her. The silence beat about their ears. To her overactive imagination, the large chair creaked ominously when Seth rose slowly, awk wardly, to his feet and went across to the table, returning with a glass in his hand.
“Drink this,” he said quietly.
Sophy flicked him an uncertain glance. “What is it?”
“Brandy,” he replied succinctly. “You look as though you need it,” he added, running his fingers through his thick dark hair.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Sophy informed him, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
Seth placed the glass on the mantel. “Fair enough.” His lips tightened, but his response was made in an expressionless tone of voice.
“I’m sorry for causing any drama.” Sophy attempted a peace offering.
She should really tell him about the forged telegraph. There had been no insurance with Lloyd’s of London. No telegraph. Only her wicked scheming. Perhaps he would understand. Her heart hammering with expectation and trepidation, she began a muddled explanation.
“I... did want to... apologize... I hadn’t intended any real harm....” She wanted to convince him of her genuine concern, but it was so complicated. All of her reasons for the deception were not clear to her, and she was riddled with guilt for deceiving him in the first place. She was full of mixed feelings.
Seth’s firm mouth twitched. The stubborn feminine tilt of Sophy’s firm little chin contrasted sharply with the haunting, trembling promise of her lips. Warm, honey-sweet, sensual lips that dazzled the senses, and sent logic spinning.
He was a man of discipline. Of rectitude, of courage, he had always thought. Yet he had almost been too late to save her from annihilation. His instincts told him that the incident today had been too close to have been an accident, too near disaster to have been coincidental. The thought sent a shaft of disquiet from his heart clear down to his boots.
“I’m touched by your contrition, but no real harm was done, so let’s skip the inquest.” He rallied, although any frivolity attached to the words was devalued by the darkening of his blue eyes.
A wave of unease swept through Sophy as she moved closer, into the circle of light. This was getting worse and worse. She had to tell him. She had to!
“I hope you are right, but I still owe you an explanation. I think it was overreaction to...”
Seth put his fingers on her lips to stop her from speaking. “Forget it. I should never have let you wander off. It was all my fault. I take full responsibility.”
As though he could not help himself, he caught a strand of her silky straight hair between his fingers, rubbing gently. It smelled of lavender and fresh air, and that underlying heat of her body, tantalizing, innocently provocative.
“I like your hair this way,” he declared in a voice of thickest satin. Fascinated by it, captivated by the scent, he breathed deeply, filling his lungs with it.
Sophy stood immobile. Her heart pounded at this decla ration. She found herself staring at him in bemused wonder. He filled up all of her vision. The firelight behind him crowned his head with a glowing nimbus, casting his face into a dim silhouette.
A rush of satisfaction sizzled through her as she studied him. He was her husband!
Seth’s fingers continued to play with her mane. Watching his long fingers caress the loose weight of her hair, Sophy shocked herself remembering how they felt moving over her body that way.
She hesitated. The moment was so ideal, yet she didn’t want to ruin what promised to be so wonderful. There would be plenty of time later to confess, maybe after they’d eaten.
Sophy bit her bottom lip to stop its sudden quiver. Perhaps it would be best to take one step at a time and follow her instincts? But how far could a woman trust her instincts when she was hovering on the brink of love?
The realization of where her thoughts were leading her brought a small chill of uncertainty. Eyes wide, she looked up at Seth.
Seth looked down into her luminous eyes, and went still. For what seemed endless moments, he held her gaze before he dipped his head and brushed his lips softly across her mouth.
It was the merest contact, but it laid siege to rational thought. His lips were persuasive, irresistible. Some emotion more powerful than any she’d ever known before stormed her senses. She leaned into his body, and her hands rose involuntarily to clutch at his shirtfront as she instinctively closed her eyes to shield her emotions.
“Seth?” Sophy’s voice was small and uncertain. She shook her head to clear it. Her wits felt scrambled, and she was not at all sure what she was wanting.
A faint smile flickered briefly on Seth’s face. Like potent wine, hot excitement flooded through him, but he didn’t try to deepen the embrace. Instead, his hands came up to gently clasp her shoulders, and his breath touched warmly at her temple.
“I also like the way you overreact.” His voice was a soft murmur as he lifted her hair to nuzzle his face in her neck. When he bent to taste the sweet hollow of her throat, his tongue seeking out that sensitive pulse point, a muffled sound escaped her.
His tenderness was unnerving, intoxicating, and caused a response within Sophy she had not expected. Blindly, she turned her face toward his, seeking the comfort and warmth he offered.
The frill of his shirt softly tickled her chin. As she burrowed against the hard wall of his chest, her lips opened and moved involuntarily against his thumb.
Seth felt their soft brush on his flesh. Desire raged through him with the force of a stormy torrent, and he felt his skin tighten, as if the roiling blood inside were pressing against it, trying to burst out.
Sophy’s arms wound themselves around his neck, her fingers twining themselves into his lustrous hair, ruffling it, mussing it. Her sudden passion surprised Seth, and he gathered her closely to him, even as a tiny voice warned against the fire that was now threatening to burn up his control.
He could not believe the intense need that threatened to overpower him as if he were a green, callow youth. He tried to deny it, but his body ignored his mind’s orders. His hand pressed Sophy even closer against the whole pulsing length of his body.
Molded to his hard frame, Sophy was physically aware of his needs and desires. She felt herself yield to the hard pressure of his hand. The guilt she’d been experiencing over keeping her secret from him faded as she, too, was filled with desire.
More than anything in the world at the moment she was wanting his touch, his kiss, and unwillingly let him go when he gently eased her to arm’s length suddenly.
Seth’s face was tight and the blue eyes glittering and unfathomable. He sucked in a deep, steadying breath, then he smiled slowly, his eyes crinkling at their corners.
“I’m sorry, Sophy. I didn’t intend for this to happen,” he said thickly, stepping back. “Especially after your ordeal today. Forgive me for my lack of tact and sensibility.”
Without his arms around her, without his warmth enclosing her, Sophy felt chilled. She shuddered. Her lips were still parted slightly, bereft.
She could not believe her response.
It was the middle of the day! It was madness. A wild, wanton madness to allow herself to be distracted in this way.
A brief wave of shame swept over her, and, unbidden, a swift flood of color tinged her cheeks, lending a rosy hue that was mortifying. To cover her embarrassment, she picked up the glass she had rejected, nervously swirling the contents.