The Virgin Who Ruined Lord Gray - Anna Bradley Page 0,84

she opened for him, and they both moaned at the first stoke of his tongue against hers. Tristan felt her hands sink into his hair, her fingers tugging at the strands to drag him closer.

He told himself it was enough to kiss her—enough to hold her in his arms—but his control slipped further and further into the abyss the longer their lips clung together, until he stumbled to his feet with Sophia still in his arms and set her down on top of the table.

She let out a breathless laugh. “Take care with the teacups.”

He chuckled against her lips, but soon enough he was lost in the sensual glide of her tongue against his, her fingers in his hair, the soft sighs of pleasure on her lips. The next thing he knew her tunic was clenched in his fist, his knuckles grazing the smooth skin of her belly as he dragged it up, higher, then higher…

Mrs. Beeson might have gotten the shock of her life when she returned from the market if, in Sophia’s frantic scrambling to help him remove the tunic, her hip hadn’t bumped against a saucer and toppled it over the edge of the table. Tristan tore his mouth from hers, and they both cast dazed looks at the smashed china on the floor before turning to each other.

Her cheeks were pink, her lips swollen and damp from his kisses. Locks of her hair had fallen from her neat bun and were curling against her shoulders. Tristan took one look at her, and it was all he could do not to tumble her onto her back on Mrs. Beeson’s spotless kitchen table.

Sophia buried her face against his shoulder, smothering a laugh. “Oh, dear. We’ve spoiled that lovely china set! I did warn you to take care, Tristan.”

“Of the teacups, yes. You didn’t say a word about the saucers.” He tugged gently on a loose lock of her hair. “You haven’t told me what were you doing in the mews. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that, Miss Monmouth.”

She patted his chest. “No. I’ve never known you to forget anything, Lord Gray. Come, I have a story for you. I’ll tell you on the way.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”

Sophia took his hand and hopped down from the kitchen table. “To the Turk’s Head Coffeehouse.”

Chapter Seventeen

This conversation wasn’t going at all as Sophia had planned.

She’d launched into her explanation of the events of the morning as soon as they were in Tristan’s carriage and on their way to the Strand. It began amicably enough, but she’d hardly said a dozen words before Tristan was staring incredulously at her, his face becoming grimmer by the second.

“Let me see if I understand you, Sophia. You sneaked out of my bedchamber before dawn this morning, strolled through my kitchen and out the back door to make a clean escape into the mews, and—”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds far worse than it—”

“To make a clean escape into the mews,” Tristan repeated, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You found Lord Everly’s carriage there, with Lord Everly and an unidentified man inside, but instead of remaining safely in the kitchens, or better yet, returning to my bedchamber as a sane person would have done, you—”

“Oh, come now, Tristan. You can’t truly think I’d squander such an extraordinary opportunity to find out what—”

“The other man in the carriage was the fourth man. You do realize that, don’t you? Did it occur to you if he’d seen you lurking behind the carriage, he would have finished the job he’d begun the night before?” Underneath the flush of anger on his cheeks, Tristan’s face had gone white. “For God’s sake, Sophia! How can you be so careless with your own safety?”

Sophia cringed at the look in those narrowed gray eyes. His lips, usually so full and sensual, were now pressed into a tight, forbidding line. Oh, dear. He did look angry. This wasn’t going well at all. “I was extremely careful, I promise you.”

“Not careful enough,” Tristan snapped.

“Tristan.” Sophia’s soft voice caught Tristan’s attention. “Jeremy was nearly hung for another man’s crimes. Henry Gerrard was murdered, leaving his wife a widow and his son without a father. You want the men who committed the crimes punished, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course, but not at your expense!” Tristan dragged a hand down his face. “You nearly got your skull cracked open last night, Sophia. Do you think I want to see you suffer the