Page 11 of The Runaway Heiress
“You don’t even know he’s in Chicago.”
“He went there after our parents died. Jean corresponds with him….” Her words died out when she realized her only contact with her brother had been through Jean. What if he wasn’t in Chicago after all? Would Jean lie about that? Her heart sank. “Do you know where Alexandre is?” She asked very softly.
“No.”
His answer was just as low and it wasn’t a surprise. It should have driven home to Sophie how alone she really was,completely cut off from the one family connection she’d held on to, but it didn’t. Because her brother had been lost to her for a long time and for some inexplicable reason, Gray made her feel safe.
“So you won’t help me earn more money?”
“Sophie.” Her name on his lips pleased her in ways it shouldn’t have. “If you run, LaSalle will find you.” Instead of being cold, his eyes were filled with tenderness and regret.
He was right. She meant to be angry at his words, but his eyes thwarted her. She knew he was right, but now she also knew that maybe it pained him to be right.
“You’re not like anyone else.” Sophie finally gave voice to the secret conversation they always seemed to have when they looked at each other. The words had never been spoken, but they had always been there between them.
Gray’s eyes cut to the left, away from her, and a muscle worked in his jaw. He didn’t want to give voice to the undercurrent that carried between them, but he couldn’t deny its existence. Heartened by his reaction, she took the few steps that would bring her to within arm’s reach of him.
His solemn gaze moved back to her face, the intensity brushing across each feature like a caress until coming to rest on her mouth. Something responded deep inside her. She always felt so safe with him but now there was a hint of something else, something dangerous and exciting. Something more. She longed to explore it.
When his gaze moved back up to hers, full of fire and hunger, she knew he felt it, too. He’d looked at her exactly the same way the night of their kiss. She wanted to experience that kiss again. To experience those feelings he could stir to life within her. If it turned out she had to go to Anton’s bed, she could take that with her.
“If I wanted to kiss you again, would you let me?”
His eyes flared in surprise, and she heard him suck in a quick breath. “You’re very bold.”
Her face burned and she silently acknowledged the truth of his words. The reckless streak in her did seem to be running rampant lately, but she attributed it to the fact that her life would be ending in two weeks. Surely this is how people felt when they knew the end was near. Heedless of consequence and irresponsible of judgment. For what consequence could be worse than marrying Anton Beaudin?
“I know.” Her brow furrowed. “But you want me, too. Don’t you?”
There was no hesitation in his answer. “More than anything. But you don’t know what you’re asking.”
“We did kiss once.” Her lips curved in a soft smile at the memory, but she had to look down at her hands, away from him. “You liked it. I think I remember what it involves.”
“What you remember happened in your room where anybody could’ve walked in on us. And still it went too far.” His voice was tense. “No one would see this kiss,” he added with meaning.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
Gray’s breath came out in a long sigh and he rubbed a frustrated hand over his face. “It’s bad, Sophie. So bad.” Instead of looking at her, he chose a spot on the wall over her shoulder. “Just go to sleep. I can’t talk about this with you.”
Her lips parted in surprise and, despite his best attempts, Gray looked at them. She looked so unhappy and dejected he wanted to take his words back. To pull her into his arms, bear her down to the bed beneath him and lose himself in her until those eyes were too full of passion to look sad. And then he wanted to take her away. Ride with her across the plains until it was just the two of them and never look back.
Damn!What had he been thinking to bring her here? His obsession couldn’t withstand the temptation of having her so close. One kiss here and he’d it all from her.
“It’s too early to sleep.”
“Just go to sleep.” He repeated through clenched teeth.
She looked miffed when her fingers came up to begin unfastening the buttons on her jacket.
“Whoa! What the hell are you doing?”
“You try sleeping in a corset and bustle.” She snapped, undeterred in her objective.
His sense of self-preservation made him do what he had never done to another human being in his adult life. He turned his back on her. But still he couldn’t take his eyesfromher and they immediately strayed to the small shaving mirror mounted on the wall a few feet away. It wasn’t big and it was cracked through the middle, but it was enough.
Gray watched in acute discomfort, clenching his fists at his sides, as Sophie slowly revealed herself to him. When she unbuttoned the jacket, she exposed creamy shoulders and a chemise that was far too sheer. His mouth went dry when he noticed the darker hint of areolas peeking just above her corset. She threw the jacket over the back of the chair and then moved on to her skirt. He watched her fidget with the tie and knew a second of madness when he had to stop himself from tearing it apart for her. Moments later she stepped out of it and it was soon followed by petticoats and bustle. He broke out in a sweat when she began the laces of her corset and had to look away. Only to look back as she sat on the edge of the bed to remove her ankle boots and stockings, unveiling shapely, pale calves and a pair of dainty feet.
Dressed in only her drawers and chemise, she stood and began the agonizingly slow process of taking the pins from her hair. He tried not to but his gaze strayed down to the apex of herthighs where he could just make out the shadow of curls scarcely hidden by the too-thin linen of her drawers. He felt himself harden and made himself look away. But the hairpins clinked one by one to the bedside table and when they stopped his gaze darted back in time to see her glorious mane, shining gold in the lamplight, fall down to her waist.
