Page 32 of Summoner of Sins

Max made a terse nod.

Two days. But his gut churned. Was he doing Sophie a disservice? “Ironheart. I might need a favor…”

Sophie snuggled Abigail into the hollow of her body as the child slept. Part of her wished she could get up and pace once again, but this was better. If she couldn’t sleep, she ought to at least rest, and Abigail had needed the comfort. They were in the second new place in a week.

However, Abigail had largely enjoyed her day. The staff had kept her occupied first in the kitchen, helping the cook bake pasties, and then she’d had a picnic in the garden with one of the maids.

She’d been given paints, and she’d danced with the opening flowers. If Sophie had doubted any of her choices, the proof was in the sleeping child. Abigail would be much better cared for away from the man who’d claimed to be their uncle. Their future was still so uncertain.

She slipped from the bed, crossing to the window to look out into the darkness. It wasn’t terribly late, but it felt as if the whole city was quiet and that she was all alone. Perhaps it was just this neighborhood. Mayfair went to sleep far earlier than the rest of London. She wished Max was there. The quiet would be a comfort, but it would feel safe if he were there. Instead, the silence rang ominously in her ears, worries filling the space in her head. What if something happened to Max? She had money, and that was a relief. Could she run without his strength? Could she protect her sister?

She sighed, laying her head on her hands as she stared out into the darkness. That was when a bobbing carriage lantern appeared in the distance. She lifted her head, staring as it moved closer, and grew bigger. Was it friend or enemy? Should she hide? Ironheart had an army of footmen. Would they protect her and her sister?

The carriage and six came into view, and she saw that it was Ironheart’s, and she let out a cry of relief. Abigail stirred in the bed, and Sophie covered her mouth with her hand, even as she stood, creeping toward the door.

In nothing but her chemise, she reached for her borrowed housecoat and wrapped it about herself before slipping from the room. Padding down the hall, she stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down two floors to the massive entry as Max and Ironheart entered the mansion.

She watched Max move with decisive steps across the marble floor, her heart hammering in her chest to the thumping of his boots. The sound rushed in her ears and echoed up to the cathedral ceilings. He stopped up the bottom, glancing up, his eyes locking with hers. “Sophie.”

She didn’t hesitate. Lifting the hem of the long garment, she made her way down the stairs as fast as her feet could carry her. Max started up them, taking two or three at a time, he met her on the landing of the first floor.

Without a word, he swept her into his arms, lifting her feet from the ground as he pressed her to his chest, his lips capturing hers. She lost herself in that kiss. Her hands sliding into his hair, she held on and let the passion burn away her fear.

“Max,” she whispered against her mouth. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love.” He kissed her again, his mouth opening hers, his tongue sliding between her lips, and swiping against hers. Had she been burning before? A blaze lit deep in the pit of her stomach. She’d never felt anything like it. She kissed him back, tentatively at first, but soon, she returned the strokes of his tongue, her desire erasing her shyness.

“Ahem,” Ironheart called from the bottom of the stairs. “I’m off to bed. I shall visit the Archbishop of Canterbury first thing in the morning.”

The duke’s voice and his words finally pulled Sophie from her daze of passion. “The Archbishop? Tomorrow?”

Max cleared his throat but didn’t set her down. If anything, he gave her another tiny squeeze. “Yes. That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know what will happen in the next few days. But I know I can give you one more layer of protection.”

“How’s that?”

“I can make you my wife, Sophie.”

“Your wife?” her heart hammered in her chest, her blood racing through her veins. “You…you want?—”

“I’m asking you to be my wife, Sophie. Will you marry me?”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sophie stared down at Max. Since he held her, her face was just above his, but with her feet dangling down, she felt rather small. Then there was the fact that every thought had left her head, leaving her to stutter like a child. She watched Max’s face change. The hope that had been there just a moment before soured and turned black. She squeezed around his neck, opening her mouth to share her heart with him.

But that’s when Ironheart reached the landing. “Tell her that thing about the sun and then night.”

“Sh-sh-shut up,” Max said, stuttering.

He had not hesitated in his speech at all recently and she knew she’d somehow hurt him. Did he think she was rejecting him? Of course, he did. She never imagined he’d propose now. Yes, he’d told her had feelings, and he’d given her money. But somehow there was confusion.

“Max,” she said and then rubbed her nose against the tip of his. “Do you truly mean it? You’d marry me?”

He remained like marble, not softening a bit. “I asked, didn’t I?”

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