Distracted by her Virtue by Maggie Cox

his.
    He willingly complied—but not before thinking how much he’d love to free her beautiful chestnut hair from the plaits she’d worn all day, knowing that it would ripple down her back like a pre-Raphaelite beauty’s. Jarrett had a powerful compulsion to comb out the long silken skeins with his fingers, then gently smooth them back so that he could more closely examine the sublime contours of her lovely face.
    ‘I can carry him up to bed if you’d prefer?’
    Sophia declined the offer. ‘He’ll be fine right here on the couch. We don’t use the bedrooms upstairs. There’s a lot of work to be done to make them anywhere near habitable, I’m afraid. Charlie and I sleep in what was once the parlour. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, got rid of the dust and cobwebs—that sort of thing. I’ve put up some new curtains and arranged our beds in there. There’s even a fireplace that we can use in the winter if need be. The house doesn’t have the luxury of central heating, and I’m sure the temperatures will be bitter by then.’
    After gently pulling the colourful crocheted blanket that lay folded at the end of the antique sofa over Charlie’s sleeping form, Jarrett straightened to give her his undivided attention. ‘I don’t mean this unkindly,but did you even know what you were doing when you bought a place like this?’
    Sophia dropped the straw bag she’d taken to the seaside onto a nearby Edwardian chair and folded her arms. Then she lifted her chin in a gesture that clearly illustrated her defensiveness. ‘I didn’t buy it. Do I look like the kind of person who could afford to buy a house like this?’
    He shrugged. ‘What
does
a person who can afford to buy an expensive period property look like? If you didn’t buy it, then how did you come to be here?’ Sensing this wasn’t the kind of information she readily wanted to share, he almost held his breath as he silently willed her not to keep it a secret.
    Absently freeing the two covered red bands that secured her plaits, she started to loosen her hair.
Jarrett’s mouth turned helplessly dry as he watched her comb her slender fingers through it
. Just as he’d imagined, the luxurious fall of rippling dark strands might have come straight out of a pre-Raphaelite painting.
    ‘My aunt left it to me.’
    ‘Mary Wingham was your aunt?’
    ‘My great-aunt.’
    Taken aback for a moment, he rubbed a hand round his jaw. ‘Did you visit her much when she was alive?’
    She looked downcast. ‘No. I didn’t. The last time I was here was when I was about twelve years old.’
    ‘Yet she bequeathed you this house?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘She must have been very fond of you.’
    ‘Hmm.’ The soft green eyes glimmered wryly. ‘My dad always told me she didn’t exactly like our family … although I think she secretly had a bit of a soft spot forhim. Anyway, the last time I personally set eyes on her was at his funeral, and I remember her looking pretty upset. But I still don’t know why she chose to leave the place to me. Of course I’m very grateful that she did.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘I’m tired, and I really think I’ve answered enough questions for one day.’
    Even though he yearned to hear more, the expression on Sophia’s face was determined enough to make Jarrett conclude he shouldn’t push his luck—and neither should he forget that for a woman who had an obvious tendency to be reclusive she had at least let her guard down enough to allow him to spend time with her and her son.

CHAPTER FOUR
    T ELLING herself it would be rude not to offer Jarrett a cup of tea when he’d so thoughtfully taken her and Charlie to the beach for the afternoon, Sophia fought down her wariness at his curiosity about her and led the way into the lofty-ceilinged kitchen. With its dulled terracotta tiled floor and tall curtainless windows overlooking the currently wild and untended back garden, it was hardly inviting.
    Seeing the daylight was fading fast, she flicked on the