Page 3 of The Runaway Heiress
“Evening, Gray.”
“Hunter.”
“I was hoping I’d see you here tonight. I’m heading out in the morning and hoped you’d reconsidered the job offer.”
Hunter had offered him a job on the spot when Gray had saved his life. “I can’t.”
Hunter shook his head. “That’s too bad.”
“Monsieur Sinclair, please, if someone could just take me home.”
Sophie’s voice with its soft French intonations carried to him. It wasn’t a heavily accented voice like LaSalle’s. The inflection could only be heard in the occasional word, just often enough to make him listen for it. Everything inside him stopped at the sound of her distress. He glanced over to make sure she was okay. She stood outside the closed terrace doors with her cape around her shoulders.
Hunter cleared his throat, drawing Gray’s attention back to him. The man grinned and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I think I understand.”
Shit. He had to do better so his attraction to her wasn’t as noticeable.
“I’ve already committed to finishing this job,” Gray said.
“Send word to me if you change your mind.” Hunter tipped his head and hurried down the steps.
“Safe travel,” Gray called after him.
Then he went back to scanning the street, visibly as vigilant as he was supposed to be, but ravenously drinking up the sound of her voice as she pleaded with Sinclair again.
Sinclair, who was in charge of security, stood before her, his back slightly blocking her, so that Gray had to move closer to hear the conversation.
“It’s almost midnight. Supper will be served soon. Don’t you think eating something will make you feel better?” Sinclair was saying.
“I just need to go home…please.”
There was a moment of silence and then. “I’ll need to check with your uncle.”
“Go to LaSalle. I’ll take her.” Gray heard himself offer. Sinclair was usually the one assigned to Sophie’s needs but, as the most trusted gunslinger, he had been ordered to attend a midnight meeting LaSalle had planned later that night with some important men in town for the ball.
Sinclair looked over at him, a glimmer of relief on his face, and gave a nod of thanks. “She’ll be okay with Brand at the house.””
“I’ll be quick.” Gray assured him.
“You remember the safe combination for the jewels?”
“Yes, I have everything under control,” Gray said.
“Good.”
Gray left to get the buggy, berating himself for volunteering. He was supposed to keep his distance. Anyone else could have been dispatched to see her home. But there was no reason it shouldn’t be Gray. No one knew how badly he wanted her. No one knew that he dreamed at night of taking her over his horse and fleeing with her across the plains where no one would find them. No one knew how very little was stopping him from doing just that.
Chapter Three
Sophie felt a twinge of longing twist deep within her as she watched Gray approach. In the darkness his eyes held a dangerous glint that made him look more forbidding than usual. His hair hung loose past his shoulders. She wanted to have one conversation with him unhindered by all that stood between them. Would he be as kind to her as his eyes sometimes suggested?
“Miss Buchanan.” Those eyes settled on her as he extended his hand to help her down the steps of the Nelsons’ house. None of his earlier compassion was reflected there. The gray was flat and closed off.
Sophie looked down to see his palm outstretched to her and her mouth went dry. That brief moment in the hall was the first time they’d touched at all. Now she was about to touch him again. If only she wasn’t wearing gloves. Her fingertips tingled before they slipped across his rough palm and his fingers closed around them. His hand was warm and strong, completely engulfing hers. A current almost like electricity traveled thelength of her arm. She glanced up to see if he felt the connection, too, but he was already looking toward the buggy, away from her, as he helped her down the steps. She felt a bizarre desire to prolong the contact, but in seconds she was seated in the waiting buggy and there was no reason to not let go. So she did.
His touch was nothing like Monsieur Beaudin’s, or Anton, as he insisted she call him now. Anton, with his cold, possessive hand almost constantly at her waist, failed to stir any feeling at all within her except maybe disgust. While Gray, without even trying, stirred far too many feelings. It was a dangerous attraction. She knew that,hadknown it from the first time she saw him, but it hadn’t stopped her from thinking about him. Maybe it was the wedding looming before her making her bolder, but she knew an undeniable longing to discover if the attraction was mutual.
“We meet again today, Monsieur Gray.”
