Either way, they needed to search the house. It wouldn’t surprise him to find Jessica asleep in bed. It was time he stopped acting like a wounded soul, behaved more like the man who tackled cases with strength, courage and unwavering resolve.
“We shall return to Blackborne.” Finlay captured Sophia’s hand. He did not want her traipsing through the woods with Dr Goodwin. And he wanted both men to know he cared for the woman shivering at his side.
“Shall I continue on with the hounds, sir?” Blent asked.
“Follow the path for half a mile. If you fail to find a scent return to the herb garden and begin again there. Dr Goodwin will accompany you.” Before the doctor could protest, Finlay turned on his heel and drew Sophia back towards the overgrown path.
“What makes you so certain Jessica isn’t roaming the woods?” Sophia said, clutching his hand as if she might crumple to the ground without his support.
“I’m not certain, but we darted out here without a second thought, leaving the house unattended.” It was a foolish mistake. A mistake he could not afford to make again. But deceivers manipulated the minds of the strongest men. “I made the obvious assumption.”
“A constable dealing with a missing person would start his search at the place of the last sighting. Neither of us thought to check Jessica’s bedchamber or follow the route down the servants’ stairs.”
“No.” His sigh mirrored his frustration. If he hoped to bring sense to the chaos, he had to master his emotions. “I don’t suppose Blent searched the stable block either.”
Were they being moved like pieces on a chessboard?
Had their opponent lured them into position?
The fiend was certainly playing a devious game.
They navigated the path back to the road, but the rattling of carriage wheels along the popular thoroughfare brought them to an abrupt halt ten yards from the stile.
Sophia pulled him behind the nearest tree trunk. “I suspect that’s the mail coach. In the dark, this road can be treacherous. Most people spend the night at The Wild Drake and tackle this stretch during daylight.”
It seemed like a reasonable explanation until the conveyance slowed and jerked to a stop. The carriage door flew open, and a gentleman vaulted to the ground. A mumbled conversation with the coachman ensued.
Finlay shuffled closer to Sophia, the nearness of her body rousing all the old memories. He pressed her back against the mossy tree trunk while peering at the carriage through the gloom.
“He’s approaching the gates to Blackborne,” Finlay whispered, his mouth an inch from Sophia’s ear. Oh, he was so achingly close the teasing scent of violets filled his head.
She touched her palm to his chest. “No one must know I own this house.”
Her misty white breath drew his gaze to her lips, lips tinged blue from the cold. One heated kiss would soon restore them to their pretty pink hue.
“What can he want?” she added.
Finlay shrugged.
When the inns were full, distinguished travellers often stopped at great houses looking for a bed for the night. The coachman might have pushed the horses too hard. An impending issue with a conveyance would be another valid reason for a person to stop at a private residence. Indeed, the well-dressed gent gripped the iron railings and shook the gates violently.
Were it not for Sophia’s need for secrecy, Finlay would give this devil the fright of his life. But instinct said to watch and wait.
Sophia slid her hand slowly up his chest. She cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Do you recognise him?” she mouthed.
It took a moment for her question to penetrate his mind. Not because her words were inaudible, but because he wanted to warm the cold hand pressed against his cheek, wanted to caress the wisps of blonde hair brushing her chin.
Something sparked between them.
An age-old hunger that had never been sated.
An abiding love that had been buried beneath the depths of despair.
Desire swirled in his stomach. Wild. Intoxicating. The need to taste her left him staring at her mouth. One kiss would lead to one touch. One touch would lead to the frantic urge to strip naked and indulge their passions. It didn’t help that he pinned her to the tree. Trapped in an impenetrable fortress. He could hike up her skirts, push deep into her body and take what he needed, take what he’d coveted since the day their fathers became firm friends.
“He’s dressed like a gentleman,” he said, answering her question as lust raged in his veins. “But the carriage is unmarked. Shall I approach him?”
“No,” she whispered, clearly alarmed.