The Gold Collection: A Bride For The Taking. Maggie Cox

possession was dizzying. More than that if felt so right. Tears surged hotly into Sophia’s eyes. When Jarrett started to move rhythmically inside her she wound her arms round his neck to invite even more of his incendiary kisses, but he glanced down at her with surprised concern when he saw the moisture that slid down her face.

      ‘What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?’

      ‘Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s perfect, in fact … promise.’

      ‘But—’

      Now it was her turn to silence him with a lingering and sexy open-mouthed kiss. She sensed his pleasure straight away, because he began to move inside her with more purpose and intent, anchoring his hands round her hips and urging her to wrap her thighs round him as he rocked into her more deeply. Catching her breath, Sophia dug her nails into his back and held him to her with all her strength. Suddenly the powerful waves of pleasure that were transporting her to only one destination crested, and the resultant erotic laps of blissful heat that throbbed through her entire being made her gasp out loud.

      The lovely emerald eyes that glanced up at him had never appeared more beautiful, Jarrett thought, even though it was the heart-rending glitter of tears that rendered them especially bewitching tonight. But all further thought was suspended as he sensed her muscles clasp him hotly and contract. Clasping her arms about his neck even more tightly, she murmured his name with what sounded very much like a sob.

      Dear God! He could lose himself in this woman’s charms for ever and not regret a single moment he spent with her whether he lived to be a hundred or died tomorrow. No other woman had made him feel this good, this glad to be a man … ever.

      As his lover’s breathy little gasps died away he could no longer keep a grip on the wild storm of need that held him in thrall, and as his desire peaked and soared beyond the point of no return his body convulsed hard. The fierce shout that left his throat was inevitable. The only sound he heard straight after that was the creak of the old couch’s springs as he lay down in his lover’s arms. With her gentle fingers tunnelling in and out of his hair, Sophia’s warmly velvet lips pressed tenderly against his cheek.

      ‘Are you all right?’ she enquired softly.

      Jarrett raised his head to examine her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. ‘“All right”’ doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. I’m ecstatic … in heaven. Can’t you tell?’

      Her cheeks dimpled with pleasure. ‘My great-aunt Mary would be scandalised if she knew what we had just done on her antique couch.’

      ‘Maybe she would … maybe she wouldn’t.’

      Her green eyes widened in surprise, ‘Are you suggesting that Great-Aunt Mary wasn’t the terribly proper, stiff-upper-lipped lady that she presented to the world?’

      Grinning, Jarrett waggled his eyebrows. ‘I haven’t a clue what the lady was like, but don’t forget appearances can be deceptive. Don’t you think it might be nice to imagine that underneath her very proper exterior she yearned to let her hair down and have a little fun? You said she lived on her own. Was she ever married?’

      Thinking back over the scant history her father had told her, Sophia lightly shook her head and sighed. ‘No. She stayed single all her life. My dad once told me it was because she didn’t particularly like men.’

      ‘That doesn’t mean she didn’t have any lovers … does it?’

      ‘I suppose it doesn’t.’ She reddened a little. ‘Anyway … she’s gone now, and if she found some pleasure in the arms of someone, good luck to her! She’s been very good to me, leaving me this incredible old house, and I’ll never forget her.’

      The fire spat and hissed in the grate, and the robust log that Sophia had laid at its centre cracked and settled deeper into its fiery bed. Gazing down into her flushed beautiful face, Jarrett moved, tugging the prettily patterned eiderdown over them both. Lying down again, he arranged a cushion behind his head, then put his arm protectively round her slender shoulders. As she willingly rested her head on his chest her silky hair felt like the softest down against his skin, and, his body throbbing warmly in the aftermath of their lovemaking, he marvelled at the sense of perfect rightness that rolled over him.

      There was no doubt in his mind that being with Sophia was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And now that he’d made love to her Jarrett made a silent vow that if it was at all in his power he would never let any danger threaten her again. The gentle glow of the firelight and the lamp on the small mahogany side table hadn’t been able to hide the fading scars he’d glimpsed here and there on her supple, slender body, and he’d had to tamp down the anger that had threatened to choke him at the sight. Men who hit women were the lowest of the low in his book.

      A sense of urgency gripped him to help her deal with the despicable father-in-law who was still intimidating her and get him out of her hair for good. What he and her worthless husband had put her through was nothing less than criminal, and the remaining perpetrator shouldn’t get off scot-free. Not if Jarrett had anything to do with it.

      As Sophia settled herself more comfortably against him, she covered her mouth to suppress a yawn. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I guess my broken night’s sleep has caught up with me.’

      ‘There’s no need to apologise. Why don’t you just let yourself drift off? I’ll stay here with you until the morning.’

      ‘Will you really? It’s not exactly the most comfortable couch in the world to sleep on.’

      ‘I give you my word. Now try and get some sleep.’

      Sophia was still sleeping when Jarrett peered out between the closed red velvet drapes at the window and saw that it was daylight. The fire in the grate had long gone out, and the temperature in the lofty room was icy enough to make him wince.

      Making his way back to the couch, he carefully arranged the quilt more snugly round Sophia’s pale shoulders. She stirred a little, but didn’t wake. In repose, her lovely face looked peaceful and young. A faint smile raised the corners of his mouth. Rubbing his hands to warm them, he turned on his heel and moved across to the fireplace to rebuild the fire. He didn’t want Sophia waking up to a cold room. After that he made his way to the kitchen.

      Ten minutes later, sitting at the old-fashioned breakfast table with its dented and scratched oak surface, revived by a steaming mug of strong black coffee, he searched for his lawyer friend’s phone number on his mobile and rang him. He knew for a fact he would already be at his desk. After a long, heated conversation he ended the call and got restlessly to his feet. He hadn’t mentioned Christopher Abingdon’s name, but it had been enough for him to tell his friend that Sophia’s father-in-law was a renowned QC for him to get the bit between his teeth and promise to do all he could to help just as soon as Sophia personally instructed him to act on her behalf. The case was ‘potential dynamite’, he said.

      Staring out of the window at the shadowy back garden, where a large portion of the light was cut off by the untamed shrubs growing wild, he was deep in thought when—still attired in the pretty blue dress of the night before and with her hair endearingly tousled—the lady herself appeared at the kitchen door tiredly rubbing her eyes.

      ‘Good morning.’

      ‘Morning, sleepyhead.’

      ‘You made up the fire in the living room. Thanks for that.’

      ‘The temperature put me in mind of Siberia when I woke up, and I didn’t want you to be cold. Want some coffee? I hope you don’t mind, but I made a pot.’

      ‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Her smile was a little uncertain, almost as if she didn’t quite know how to proceed after the passion that had erupted between them last night. After tucking some hair behind her ear, she crossed her arms over her chest as if to warm herself. ‘I thought you might have had to dash off. I didn’t mean to lie in so long. I’m normally up at the crack of dawn, and I’m a light sleeper. If I hear