“But you’ll need help with your clothes.”
“Finlay will attend m-me.” Sophia glanced at the housekeeper. “Mrs Friswell, have Anne bring two g-glasses of brandy, and then you m-must rest your leg.”
“And have her bring one of your tisanes, one to stave off the cold,” Finlay said, already moving past the concerned women. “I must hurry before the chill settles into her bones.”
His arms ached, and he prayed he still had the strength to carry Sophia upstairs. And God help him, he wanted to embrace her, kiss her and relish in the knowledge the nightmare was over.
“We’ll be in the great chamber,” he added.
Finlay did manage the stairs. Once inside the room, he closed the door and lowered Sophia down into a chair while he quickly lit the fire.
“Come.” Finlay took Sophia’
s hand and pulled her to her feet. Water dripped from her dress, leaving a puddle on the boards. “Turn around so I might help you undress.”
After all she had been through, he presumed she craved a warm bed and a few hours’ sleep. The heated look in her eyes said she craved something passionate and energetic. Indeed, when she turned and offered him her back, her coy smile spoke of seduction.
Were the situation not urgent, he might have stroked her nape, or pressed his lips to the sensitive spot below her ear. But banishing all lustful thoughts, he stripped her out of her sodden dress, and the petticoat that carried the same stench as the Thames foreshore.
“Oh, Finlay, I smell foul. I don’t know how you c-can stand so close. I imagine my lips taste of algae.”
He threw her stays to the floor to join the wet mound of material and then slipped his arm around her waist and drew her round to face him.
“I love your smell. I love your taste and your lush lips.” To prove his point, he captured her sweet mouth, slipped his tongue between the wet seam and delved deep inside.
Fire ignited in his loins. The passion held at bay all these years burned through him like a wildfire. The insatiable need to bury himself in her snug channel hardened his cock. Damn. He wanted her in every conceivable way—beneath him, straddling him, gripping the bedpost as he slammed into her welcoming body.
He tore his mouth from hers. “You’ll catch your death standing here.”
Her amorous smile deepened. “You’ll keep me warm, and the fire is blazing.”
“My body is like a raging inferno.”
She laughed. “Lock the door, Finlay.”
“Love, you need rest.” His voice lacked conviction.
“I need you. I need you covering me, your skin against mine, the weight of your muscular frame pressing me into the mattress.” She gathered her wet shift and dragged it over her head. “I want you inside me, Finlay, deep inside me.”
Lust writhed like a devil through his veins.
Love filled his heart, the organ swelling in his chest.
He perused her naked form, admired the curves he’d caressed but had never seen fully in the flesh, took a moment to appreciate her in all her glory.
“You’re so beautiful, Sophia.”
“And I’m yours, Finlay. I’ve always been yours.”
He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Tugging back the coverlet and sheets, he lowered her down onto the mattress. He stood for a moment, fearing this was a dream and he would wake in a cold sweat with the same crippling sense of loss and longing.
“Take off your clothes, F-Finlay,” she said, shivering.
She groaned in frustration when he pulled the covers over her body. “Love, you need to keep warm while I undress.”
Her relieved smile made him laugh. God, he’d forgotten what it was like to be so happy, so carefree. He bounded to the door, a skip in his step, and turned the key. Then he removed his clothes and climbed into bed.
“Oh, you’re so warm, Finlay,” she breathed as he rolled on top of her.