Free Defiant: 5 (Noble Passions) by Sabrina York Page A

comfortable like this. Her
warmth soaked him like a summer rain. He traced her arm with a thumb. “You’re
far too soft.”
    She frowned at him.
    “I mean far too tempting.”
    “Is that bad?”
    “It could be.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. It was a
little frightening, how easy that had become. Because once they returned home,
it would be forbidden to him. The thought only made him hold her closer. “I’m
only human, Sophia,” he reminded her. “I don’t want to get carried away.”
    “Would that be so bad?”
    It would be a disaster. She had a prince, an earl and a
nabob waiting for her back home. Much better men. Much worthier men. “I don’t
want to ruin you.”
    She drew her fingers through her shorn locks. “I’m ruined
already.”
    “It will grow back.” To his own ears, his tone seemed
doubtful.
    “I’m not referring to my hair. I ran away, Ned. From London.
From the season. There will be all manner of talk.”
    “Ewan and Edward will do something to protect your
reputation. You know they will.” Doubtless they had already concocted some
fiction, some emergency drawing her away from the glittering lights of the
season. Languishing relatives did die on occasion.
    His reassurance did not banish her frown.
    “Darling,” he said. And even as the word slipped out, he
knew he shouldn’t have said it. He could absolutely not say it again.
Ever. “What’s wrong?”
    She peeped up at him. He winced to see tears welling in her
eyes. “I just hadn’t thought about it until now.”
    He thumbed a salty drop away. “Thought about what?”
    “Ewan. How frightened he must be.”
    Ewan? Frightened? Not likely. “He will be very worried about
you.”
    “Oh, not that.”
    “Then what?”
    “I should have realized. I should have thought it through.”
    “What, darling?”
    It killed him, the sight of her trembling lip. Fat tears
welled and trickled down her cheeks. “When word gets out that I am ruined, he
will be ostracized. And after all he’s done to become someone of stature.”
    “No one can take that from him.”
    She put out a lip. “Society is a fickle mistress.”
    Ned couldn’t help barking a laugh. “Do you think Ewan gives
a fig about Lady Jersey and her cronies? Or anyone else for that matter? But it
hardly signifies. Word won’t get out. If I know your brother—and I believe I do—not
a whisper will be heard about all this. We’ll get you back home. You will
reenter the season, find a husband and all will be well.”
    He had no idea why his reassurance only made her cry harder.
He had no idea how to comfort her so he held her and nuzzled her hairline. He’d
become accustomed to the short locks. He most certainly preferred her long,
bouncing curls, but he found he no longer cared. She could be bald and he would
still love her beyond sanity.
    And surely this was insanity.
    After a long while she sniffled and glanced up at him. “Ned?”
    “Yes, Sophia?”
    “What if we never get home?”
    “What? Of course we will.”
    “The ship is crippled. We’ve likely been blown far off
course. What if we’re in the middle of the Atlantic and cannot find our way
home?”
    “I’m certain Captain MacDougal and his men can get us safely
back to England.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.” He hoped. “Now close your eyes and get some rest.”
Lord knew there hadn’t been much sleep last night. Last night the rolling had
been particularly violent. When it seemed she might protest, he kissed each lid
in encouragement.
    To his relief, she fell silent. He held her tight, against
the wild pitch of the ship, and she fell asleep. After a while, he fell asleep
as well. And he dreamed of her. Dreamed of having her and holding her in his
arms forever.
    It was a lovely dream, made even lovelier by the sultry
warmth curling in his veins as he reached for wakefulness. It wasn’t often a
man awoke to such pleasure, but when he did, he was helpless in its clutches. Which
was probably why he