The Virgin Who Ruined Lord Gray - Anna Bradley Page 0,81

of his emerging beard scraping against the tender skin of her face and neck, her throat…

No. Nothing good would come of daydreaming about Tristan—that is, Lord Gray. She must remember to think of him as Lord Gray from now on, or better yet, not to think of him at all. It was the reason she’d left him this morning, even as everything inside her had longed to stay, to brush his dark hair back from his forehead and wait for those remarkable gray eyes to open.

Dash it. Sophia squeezed her eyes closed, clenching her hands into fists. She had to find a way to exorcize him, just as the Catholics priests had done centuries ago to rid themselves of their demons. Tristan might be a handsome, tempting demon, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be banished. That was why she’d left his bed this morning, never to return again—

“No rooftops today, Miss Monmouth?” A hard arm snaked around Sophia’s waist, and she was pulled roughly against a warm, muscular chest. “I can’t say I think the mews your most inspired hiding place.”

Sophia let out a squeak of surprise, and might have followed it with an elbow to her captor’s ribs and a foot to his shin if she hadn’t known at once who he was.

“What are you doing, sneaking about Lord Everly’s mews, hmmm?” Tristan’s low chuckle stirred the hair at her temple. “Shame on you, pixie. But then you make a habit of sneaking about, don’t you? Sneaking from my bed, sneaking into my kitchen, sneaking about the mews in the dark.” He made a tsking noise, and his hot breath drifted over her ear. “You try my patience, Miss Monmouth.”

Sophia opened her mouth to answer, but she never got the chance. His arms tightened around her waist, and the next thing she knew the ground vanished beneath her feet, and a hard shoulder appeared out of nowhere under her belly.

It took her a moment to realize what had happened, but once she did, she began to kick and squirm to free herself. “Tristan! Have you gone mad? This isn’t necessary—”

“You wouldn’t think so, would you? Yet here we are.” He tightened his arm around the backs of her thighs to still her. “Stop kicking.”

“You’re going to drop me!” Sophia clutched handfuls of the back of his shirt in her fists to steady herself.

“I won’t if you stop wriggling. It’s not as if you’re heavy. I’ve carried walking sticks that weigh more than you do.”

Despite herself, Sophia laughed. “What nonsense. I’m much heavier than a walking stick, especially the hollow ones without the figured gold or silver nobs—”

“The hollow sticks are more properly called canes, but I’m not interested in discussing either canes or walking sticks at the moment, Miss Monmouth.”

It occurred to Sophia this might be one of those times when it was wiser to keep her mouth closed, but by then it was too late. “Well, what are you interested in, Lord Gray?”

Tristan hitched her higher on his shoulder. “Milkmaids.”

Sophia huffed out a breath. “Oh, for pity’s sake. This is absurd. I must insist you put me down this instant, my lord.”

“No. I don’t think I will.” He was striding across the mews toward his townhouse. “Last time I let go of you I didn’t care for the result. I wasn’t pleased to find myself alone in my bed this morning.”

His tone was grim. He was certainly angry with her, but there was an underlying thread of something else in his voice that made her hesitate.

A hint of confusion and…dejection?

Sophia stopped kicking, and her grip loosened on his shirt. Given she was upside down, the blood had already rushed to her head, but there was no denying the way her cheeks heated at his words. Not with guilt, exactly—she’d long since decided guilt was a waste of time—but perhaps she did feel a touch of regret.

But under the circumstances, regret was unacceptable, and she wouldn’t indulge it. She opened her mouth to remind him she was under no obligation to please him, but what came out instead was, “I didn’t mean to…”

What? Hurt his feelings? Well, it was the truth, wasn’t it? When she’d fled his bedchamber this morning, she’d assumed she was only hurting herself.

“Didn’t mean to what, Miss Monmouth? Sneak off like a thief?”

She swallowed. “I thought it best for both of us if I went.”

“Why?” He bit out, his shoulder tensing underneath her.

Without realizing she did it, she was running her hands soothingly over