Raven (Gentlemen of the Order 2)

Despite trembling legs, she pushed out of the chair, left her breakfast and mounted the stairs in haste. She paused outside his chamber, pressed her ear to the door, but heard nothing. A light knock brought no response.

Please answer, Finlay.

She inhaled deeply to ease the tightness in her chest. “Mr Cole?” she whispered, praying she was wrong and he was simply late back from a morning stroll. “Mr Cole? Finlay?”

Sophia glanced at the ceiling, listening for the pad of footsteps, for the crying or sweet singing that said Jessica had woken. Not being able to anticipate her sister’s mood each morning brought its own apprehension.

Silence.

Desperate to discover if Finlay had kept his word, she opened the door and slipped inside his bedchamber.

The room was hot and dark. The heavy red curtains kept out the morning sun. A quick glance at the clothes draped over the chair said Finlay Cole had not deserted her. Indeed, the gentleman in question lay sprawled in bed, naked.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She stepped closer, transfixed by the gentle rise and fall of his broad chest as he slept. The dusting of dark hair trailing down to the white sheet gripping his lean hips held her spellbound. He looked so peaceful, so content, as if she hadn’t shattered his heart by marrying another man, as if he didn’t live with a wealth of regret.

Oh, Finlay!

The need to touch him, to devour him and ease the internal ache took hold. The need to inhale his masculine scent—a smell so unique it soothed her soul—saw her edge closer to the bed.

Would his skin be as warm as she remembered?

Would his energy light her like a beacon inside?

Her gaze moved to his full lips. Finlay Cole knew how to kiss a woman. Every sensual slide of his tongue was indelibly marked in her memory. The rich, intoxicating taste of his mouth, the smooth—

Finlay’s eyes shot open. He sat bolt upright and grabbed her wrist. “What in blazes?”

Sophia’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Shock and desire weaved together to leave her panting.

The heat from his hand seared her skin. The distress and anger in his eyes made her want to dart for cover. He had always been as dangerous as the devil, always had an otherworldly presence.

“It’s half p-past nine,” she stuttered, pulling free from his grasp. “I came to see—” Guilt made it impossible to construct a coherent sentence. “I thought you’d left Blackborne. It was so … so dark I had to step closer. Forgive the intrusion.”

His body was magnificent. All sinew and muscle and the faint scars that spoke of old pains she wanted to heal.

“Leave!” came his harsh reply. “Leave now.”

“Yes, of course.” Sophia dragged her greedy gaze away from his impressive physique and shuffled slowly back to the door. “Forgive me. I just … I just—”

“Go!”

His angry curse echoed from the bedchamber as she took to her heels and fled. She didn’t stop running until she reached the dining room, didn’t properly catch her breath until he strode into the room some fifteen minutes later.

He was dressed in black but for his white shirt. After brushing the errant ebony lock from his brow, he scanned the empty seats around the table and frowned.

“Is Jessica not able to eat downstairs?” he said, as if their verbal tussle had not occurred.

“She struggles to sleep at night and often rises late.”

“But she is not confined to her chamber?” He glanced at the china platters on the sideboard and his stomach growled.

“No, she is free to come and go as she pleases, though is encouraged not to leave the house without a chaperone.” Sophia came to her feet and moved to the sideboard. She lifted the first cover. “We have poached eggs and ham. Would you care for both?”

Judging by the size of him, he must be famished.