"I wasn't celibate the entire time," he admitted.

"You weren't?" She sat bolt upright in his lap. "You never told me that. Whom did you sleep with?"

Ross pulled the tortoiseshell comb from her hair and sifted his fingers through the rippling golden locks. "The widow of an old friend. For the first year after Eleanor died, I could not even contemplate making love to another woman. But eventually I had needs..." He paused, looking uncomfortable, and his hand stilled in her hair. "Yes?" Sophia prompted. "And you renewed your acquaintance with this widow?"

He nodded. "She was similarly lonely, and also desirous of intimacy, so we met discreetly for about four months, until..."

"Until?"

"She began to cry one day after we..." A flush of embarrassment crept over his face. "And she said that she had fallen in love with me. She told me that if I did not return her feelings, she could not continue the affair, as it would be too painful for her."

"Poor lady," Sophia said, feeling genuine sympathy for the widow. "And so the relationship ended."

"Yes. And afterward I felt a great deal of guilt for the pain I had caused her. I also learned something--that as pleasant as the affair had been, it was not nearly as fulfilling without love. So I decided that I would wait until I found the right woman. That was three years ago. The time passed quickly, especially since I was occupied with work."

"But there must have been nights when you found it impossible," Sophia said. "A man of your physical nature..."

Ross smiled wryly, not quite meeting her gaze. "Well, there are ways a man can solve that problem by himself."

"You mean you..."

He looked at her then, a touch of color lingering on his cheekbones. "Haven't you?"

The canopy of leaves rustled over them, and a lone bird chirped innocently, while Sophia struggled to answer. "Yes," she finally admitted. "Not long after you were shot. You remember that morning when you kissed me and took me into your bed, and we almost..." Her scalding blush spread everywhere. "After that, I couldn't stop thinking about the way you touched me, and one night the feelings were so desperate that I--" Mortified, she put her hands over her face with a groan.

Ross twisted his hand in her hair and eased her head back, smiling as he kissed her. Still red-faced, Sophia relaxed in his lap and closed her eyes against the splashes of sunlight that slipped through the swaying branches overhead. His mouth possessed hers with slow, tempting kisses, and she did not protest when she felt him unfastening her clothes. His hands slipped inside the garments to fondle her breasts, hips, thighs.

"Show me," he murmured, his lips at her throat.

"Show you what?"

"How you pleasured yourself."

"No," she protested, giggling nervously at the outrageous request. He persisted, however, coaxing and teasing and demanding until she acceded with an embarrassed sigh. Her hand trembled as she reached down to the place he had exposed, her drawers at her knees, her skirts rucked up to her waist. "There," she said, breathing fitfully. Ross's fingers lightly covered hers, learning the small, subtle motion. Her hand fell away, and he continued to caress her. "Like this?" he murmured.

She writhed in his lap, breathing too hard to speak.

A tender smile curved his lips as he watched her taut face. "Now, isn't this better than napping?" he asked, his fingers circling wickedly.

Suddenly lost to shame, she purred and twisted in his lap as sensations flowed over her in an endless river.

The only obstacle to Sophia's happiness was her growing concern for her brother. Nick cut a swath through London with the same cheerful carnage as always, acting alternately as a master criminal and a "thief-taker general." Society was divided in its opinion of him. Most still regarded him as a dashing public benefactor for his ability to track and arrest thieves and persuade gang members to inform on each other. However, a small but growing number of people were beginning to condemn his corrupt methods. "When Gentry enters the room," it was said, "one can smell the brimstone." It was clear that despite the power he held in the underworld, his throne was an unstable one.

After Sophia had sent Nick the information he had requested, he did not ask her for additional favors, nor was there any further mention of blackmail. From time to time he sent her notes that expressed his brotherly devotion, having an errand boy slip them to her undetected. It broke Sophia's heart to read these short letters, for her brother's lack of education was more than obvious. The words were labored and misspelled, but his fanciful intelligence and cautious love for her shone through. The notes gave her glimpses of what kind of man Nick could have become. If only his ambition and keen mind could have been turned to good purposes instead of wicked ones, she reflected sadly. Instead her brother was busy developing an extensive network of spies and informers all over London, not to mention a virtual corporation of thieves. He ran a sophisticated smuggling operation that imported huge quantities of luxury goods and distributed them with stunning efficiency. Nick was smart, bold, and ruthless, a combination of characteristics that made him a criminal mastermind. And what Ross had not admitted to Sophia--but was perfectly clear just the same--was that he wanted to bring Gentry down before he himself retired.

Soon Sophia's worry over Nick was temporarily set aside by a discovery that overwhelmed her with excitement. Before sharing the news with Ross, she had Eliza prepare one of his favorite dishes--broiled salmon with lime-and-parsley sauce---and she donned a light sea-green gown with white lace spilling from the neck and sleeves. At the end of the day, when he returned to Bow Street No. 4 after being out on an investigation, Ross was pleasantly surprised by the sight of the small table arranged by the window, with supper waiting beneath domed silver covers. Sophia had lit the room with candles, and she greeted him with a bright smile.

"This is what every man should come home to," Ross said with a grin, catching her around the waist and pressing a lusty kiss on her lips. "But why aren't we eating downstairs as usual?"

"We are celebrating something."

Ross studied her as he contemplated what the mysterious "something" could be. Gradually a cast of apprehensiveness came into his eyes, as if he suspected what she was going to tell him.

"Would you like to guess?" Sophia asked.

His tone remained relaxed. "I'm afraid I can't, my love. You may as well tell me." She took his hand and squeezed it hard. "Nine months from now, the Cannon family will have a new addition."

To her surprise, Ross's face froze for an instant. Quickly he masked his reaction with a smile and pulled her close. "Sweetheart," he murmured. "That is good news indeed. Although it is hardly unexpected after what we've been doing for the past three months."

She laughed and hugged him tightly. "I am so happy! I've been to see Dr. Linley, and he says I'm in the best of health and there is no reason to worry about anything."

"I have complete faith in his opinion." He kissed her forehead gently. "Do you feel well?"

"Yes." Sophia drew back and smiled at him, sensing that something was not quite right, but she could not identify the problem. Ross had certainly taken the news well. However, she had expected his reaction to be a bit more enthusiastic. Well, she reasoned, perhaps it was simply the difference between men and women. After all, to most men, matters relating to childbirth and children were strictly a woman's territory.

She let him seat her at the table, and the conversation passed from the subject of her pregnancy to that of the house they were soon to move into. A nursery would have to be set up, of course, and they would need to hire a nurserymaid. While they ate and talked, Sophia kept glancing at Ross, feeling that he was keeping something from her. His eyes revealed nothing, and his face looked as if it had been cast in bronze as the candlelight slid over his hard features.

When they finished eating, Sophia stood and stretched. "It is late," she said with a yawn. "Will you come to bed now?"

He shook his head. "I'm not ready to sleep yet. I'm going outside for a walk."

"All right," she said, her smile turning uncertain. "I will be waiting for you."

Ross disappeared from their private apartments as if he were escaping prison. Frowning at his odd behavior, Sophia went into the bedroom and washed her face with cool water. As she began to undo the buttons on her bodice in preparation for a sponge bath, some instinct prompted her to go to the window. Pushing the curtain aside, she stared at the courtyard that backed both buildings of the public office. Ross was there, his dark form illuminated by the moonlight, the crisp white of his shirtsleeves contrasting with the rich gleam of his waistcoat.

Sophia was perplexed to see him holding a cigar and what seemed to be a matchbox. Ross rarely smoked, and when he did, it was a social ritual performed in the company of others. He struck a match and endeavored to light the cigar, but his hands were unsteady, and the little flame shook violently in his grasp.

He was upset, Sophia thought in amazement. Not perturbed, but actually distraught, which she had never seen in him before. Quickly she refastened her bodice and went downstairs. How foolish she had been, not to realize what the news would do to him! Ross's life had been shattered because his first wife had died in childbirth. Now it must seem as if the entire hideous experience was beginning again.

As Ross was a supremely rational man, he would know that the chances of that happening again were very slight. However, he was no different from anyone else, in that his emotions occasionally eclipsed common sense. Perhaps no one would believe it of the invincible Chief Magistrate, but he had fears of his own, and this was perhaps the greatest.

Sophia went through the kitchen and out into the courtyard. Ross's back was turned toward her, and it stiffened as he sensed her approach. He had given up the attempt at smoking and merely stood with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his head bowed.

As she came closer, his voice emerged in a quiet growl. "I want privacy."

Sophia did not stop until she had pressed herself against his back and wrapped her arms around his midriff. Although Ross could have pulled away with ridiculous ease, he remained motionless in her grasp. Sophia's heart ached with compassion as she felt him trembling all over like a huge captive wolf, panicked by his confinement.

"Ross," she said softly, "everything is going to be fine."

"I know that."

"I don't think you do." She laid her cheek on his back and tightened her arms around his lean waist while she fumbled for the words that would comfort him. "I'm not fragile, as Eleanor was. It won't happen again. You must believe me."

"Yes," he agreed instantly. "There's no reason for worry." But the tremors continued, and there was a ragged edge to his breathing.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she said. "Your real thoughts, not what you believe I want to hear."

Ross waited so long to answer that she thought he had refused her, until he forced words out between abbreviated breaths. "I knew this would happen...I prepared myself...there is no logical reason to fear it. I want this child. I want a family with you. But no matter what I tell myself, I can't help remembering...Oh, God, you can't know what it was like!" His voice cracked, and she knew that the dark memories were assailing him faster than he could defend himself.

"Ross," she demanded, "turn and face me. Please."

He seemed dazed as he complied. Immediately she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself to his big, warm body. He seized her as if she were a lifeline, his arms clamping onto her in a desperate vise.

Sophia smoothed her hands over his back and kissed his ear. His fingers clenched in her hair and her clothes, and he gripped her while his lungs moved in shuddering sighs. Sophia placed her hands on either side of his damp, hot face and urged it to hers. His thick lashes were spiked with tears, and he seemed to be staring through the gates of hell. Tenderly she kissed his stiff lips.

"You will never be alone again," she promised. "We are going to have many healthy children, and grandchildren, and we will grow old together."

He nodded, clearly trying to make himself believe her.