Then he started a slow, thrusting rhythm that at first stung and hurt. But slowly, slowly, the pain fell away, or at least became partnered with something else, and small whimpers started to fly from her mouth.

And when Patrick, still holding on grimly to his self-control, pulled back and slipped his hands under Sophie’s bottom, she began to writhe under him, her body rising to meet his, her mind narrowed to a single point. Finally that elusive spark burst, shedding light that wrenched its burning way down Sophie’s arms and legs, driving her body up against Patrick’s like a tidal wave hitting the shore.

Patrick’s restraint turned to a shout of thankfulness as he lunged forward, in the grip of an ecstasy of which he had never felt the like. He surrendered with a prayer, a half-strangled, “Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,” smothered in the long, tangled curls spread over the bed.

And on the bedside table the candle dipped and swayed again, visited by the vague caress of a midnight breeze from the open window.

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Down the hallway, Sophie’s mother sat bolt upright in the palatial splendor of her bed. Eloise had there alone since discovering her husband in the arms of a housemaid some two months after their wedding. Her harsh command never to visit her bed again had been met by the marquis’s stiff agreement. Since then, the only noises that disturbed her at night were caused by her husband’s late arrivals in his chamber and, very occasionally, by errant servants.

Without hesitation she hauled on the velvet cord that hung next to her bed. The marchioness was not one to disturb the servants unnecessarily in the middle of the night, but she also had the firmest belief in her ability to sleep soundly (the gift, she frequently announced with a sapient look at her husband, of a pure conscience). If she had awakened, then there was reason for it. She had heard a gasp, and a cry. She was sure of that. Perhaps a gentleman was being robbed on the street in front of the house; if so, it was their duty to go to the poor soul’s aid. She rang the bell again.

Finally her maid appeared, dazed and disheveled looking. She curtsied in a remarkably slovenly fashion, to Eloise’s mind, and said, “Yes, my lady?”

“I heard a noise,” Eloise snapped. “Have Carroll check the front walk immediately.”