Sophia could not reply, only stared at her surroundings in amazement.
When it became clear that no immediate comment was forthcoming, Ross spoke matter-of-factly. "If you don't like the house, you have only to say so. There are other residences to consider."
"No, no," Sophia said breathlessly. "Of course I like it. How could anyone not approve? It's just that you have caught me off guard. I...I thought we were going to live at Bow Street."
He looked both appalled and amused by the idea. "God forbid. No wife of mine will take up residence at the public office. A place like this is more fitting, not to mention comfortable."
"It's very grand," Sophia commented doubtfully, thinking privately that the word "comfortable" would be more accurately applied to a cozy cottage or a small town house. "Ross," she said carefully, "if you spend all your time working at Bow Street, I do not think I would like to be alone in such a large place. Perhaps we could find some nice terrace on King Street--"
"You're not going to be alone." His eyes lit with amusement. "I've given enough of my life to Bow Street. I'm going to refashion the public office so that it can function without me. Then I'll recommend Morgan as the next Chief Magistrate, and step down for good."
"But what would you do?" Sophia asked in dawning worry, knowing that he was too active to settle into a life of gentlemanly indolence. "I have more than a few reformist causes to occupy my time, and I need to take a stronger hand in running the Silverhill estate. I also plan to buy a part interest in a new railway company in Stockton, though God knows my mother will have apoplexy at such mercantile pursuits." He reached out and pulled her so close that her skirts swished around his legs and feet. His dark head lowered until their noses were almost touching. "But most of all," he murmured, "I want to be with you. I've waited long enough for this, and, by God, I'm going to enjoy it."
Sophia stood on her toes, brushing her lips against his. Before Ross could intensify the kiss, she drew back and regarded him with a saucy smile. "Show me the rest of the house," she said.
The house was unexpectedly charming, many of the rooms shaped with rounded ends and fitted with niches and built-in bookshelves. The delicate pastel walls were framed with white molding, some panels filled with the fanciful shapes of winged gryphons and other mythical beasts. Fireplaces were made of carved marble, and the floors were covered with thick-piled French carpets. Here and there an odd piece of furniture had been left: a bow-fronted chest in one room, a japanned screen in another. In a back room on the second floor, Sophia discovered an intriguing oddity, something that resembled a chair but had been constructed in a queer fashion.
"What is this?" she asked, walking around the piece, and Ross laughed.
"A chamber horse. It has been years since I've seen one of these. Not since boyhood, actually."
"What is it used for?"
"Exercise. My grandfather had one. He claimed that it strengthened his legs and slimmed his waist whenever he had indulged a bit too often."
She regarded him skeptically. "How is it possible to exercise on a chair?"
"You bounce on it." He grinned in reminiscence. "On rainy days, when there was nothing else to do, Matthew and I jumped on Grandfather's chamber horse for hours at a time." Using his hand, he pushed on the seat, which had been upholstered with at least two and a half feet of cushioning. "This is filled with springs and dividing boards. Air is expelled through the holes on the sides."
Ross sat on the chamber horse experimentally, holding the mahogany arms and resting his feet on the stepping board in front. He gave the chair a slight bounce, and the seat moved up and down with a creaking sound.
"You look ridiculous," Sophia said, giggling at the sight of the dignified magistrate on the odd contraption. "Very well, I will agree to live in this house if you promise to dispose of that thing."
His smiling gray eyes stared into hers, and he regarded her thoughtfully. When he spoke, his tone had lowered just a notch. "Don't be so hasty. You might want to use it sometime."
"I don't think so," she said, her eyes sparkling. "If I want exercise, I will take a walk."
"Do you know how to ride?"
"No, I'm afraid I can't. Neither real horses nor chamber horses." "I'll teach you, then." His gaze traveled from her head to her toes in a single hot sweep. And then he astonished her by murmuring, "Take off your gown."
"What?" She shook her head, bemused. "Here? Now?"
"Here and now," he affirmed softly. He relaxed back in the chair, propping one foot on the stepping board. The wicked challenge in his eyes was unmistakable.
Sophia regarded him uncertainly. Although she was by no means inhibited, she was hesitant to remove her clothes in a strange house in the middle of the day, with sunlight streaming through the uncurtained windows. Cautious but amenable, she started at the fastening at the neck of her gown. "What if we are interrupted?"
"The house is empty."
"Yes, but what if one of the footmen comes in here to ask something?"
"They know better." He watched her hands alertly as she fumbled with her bodice. "Do you need help with that?"
Sophia shook her head, feeling excruciatingly self-conscious as she stepped out of her shoes. She unfastened her dress, let it fall to the floor, and unhooked the front of her light corset. When that, too, was discarded, she was left in her knee-length chemise, cotton drawers, and stockings. A brilliant blush spread up to her hairline as she reached for the hem of the chemise and pulled it up to her waist. Pausing, she glanced at Ross's intent face.
"Go on," he encouraged.
She felt like a wanton, standing before him like one of the women who were paid to assume seductive poses at some of London's choice brothels. "If you were not my husband, I wouldn't do this," she said, and stripped off the chemise in a sudden decisive motion.
A smile played on his lips. "If you were not my wife, I wouldn't ask you to." His gaze moved over her naked upper body, lingering on the curves of her breasts and the rosy peaks of her nipples. His breathing changed noticeably, and his fingers twitched as they rested on the arm of the chamber horse. "Walk to me--no, don't cover yourself."
Sophia came to stand before him, gooseflesh rising on her skin as he touched her shoulder with a feathery stroke of his fingertips. His warm hand moved downward, tracing the shape of her breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple. She felt him pull at the tapes of her drawers, and they slid over her hips and down to the floor. Stepping out of them, she reached for her garters and stockings, but he caught her wrist.
"No," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "I like the way you look in your stockings."
Her gaze stole to the obvious bulge in his trousers. "Apparently so."
He grinned and exerted more tension on her wrist, pulling her forward. "Climb onto my lap."
Carefully she placed her stockinged foot on the stepping board; his hands clamped on her waist and lifted. She collapsed onto his lap in a giggling heap, her arms linking around his neck. The chair creaked loudly, and they sank downward several inches. "This isn't going to work," Sophia exclaimed, laughing uncontrollably.
"Cooperate," he said sternly, his eyes smiling.
"Yes, sir." Feigning meek obedience, she let him arrange her legs on either side of his lap, until her thighs were spread wide and she was left utterly vulnerable.
Gradually the giggles died in her throat. "Are you going to removeyour clothes?" she asked, jumping a little as his hands slid to her bare bottom.
He cupped her and lifted her body upward. "No."
"But I want--"
"Shhh." He took her nipple into his mouth, drawing with sweet, hot suction. At the same time his fingers wandered high inside her thigh, until the backs of his knuckles brushed across the patch of protective curls. Every time she moved, the chamber horse bounced gently, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck for balance.