hour ago?”
“Oh, God.” For a moment, Sophie was so relieved she could not reply to his question, but her relief was short-lived. When he circled the table and began walking toward her, his grim expression told her she had nothing to be relieved about. He looked as if he wanted to wring her neck.
Unnerved, she took a step back and hit the door behind her. With nowhere to run, she plunged into speech. “You don’t appear to be wounded, so I take it the assassin missed, Inspector?”
He didn’t answer but took another step toward her with ominous intent, and she rushed on, “Of course, at night, in the dark, I’m sure it’s much harder to shoot someone than it would be in broad daylight. And I hadn’t thought of a gun, in any case. I had thought a knife, what with all the blood. On the other hand, you don’t look the sort of man to be easily overpowered—”
“Where is the pistol?”
She blinked, looking at him in bewilderment. “How on earth should I know?”
“You seem to know quite a lot.”
“But not that. As I said, I hadn’t even envisioned a weapon, though I had concluded that a knife must have been used. Because of the blood, you see.”
He seized her wrists in one hand, raising her arms over her head and flattening her body against the door behind her. He was a head taller than she, and far stronger, and though Sophie reminded herself that he was a policeman, not a criminal, it did not stop the rapid pounding of her heart.
“If you still have it with you,” he said, “by God, I’ll have you in a cell before you have the chance to use it on me again.”
“You think I shot at you? Why would I? I don’t even know you!” She gasped, shocked, as he flattened his free hand against her hip. “What are you doing? Let go of me!”
He paid no heed. Sophie tried to lean away from his touch as he ran his palm down her leg, but it was useless. When he reached her ankle, his hand moved beneath her skirt and petticoats. He slid his palm back up her leg, the heat of his hand burning her through her stocking. When he reached the hem of her combination, Sophie couldn’t help a cry of fright and humiliation. “I don’t have any gun,” she said, twisting against his touch like a leaf in the wind. “I don’t have it.”
Undeterred by her protestations, he continued his relentless search until he reached the top of her thigh, then he repeated the mortifying procedure with her other leg. He added insult to injury by running his hands all over her bodice, including the dip between her breasts, before he finally seemed satisfied that she had spoken the truth.
Mortified beyond description, Sophie felt her own anger flaring. “Now that you know I don’t have this pistol you’re looking for,” she said through clenched teeth, “let go of me.”
His grip on her wrists tightened. “Did you leave it in the cab? Or perhaps you dumped it in a rubbish heap on your way here?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I—”
“Who’s the man downstairs in the cab?”
“My butler.”
“He’s probably quite loyal to you, so maybe he did it on your behalf.”
“What?” The idea was laughable, but just now she didn’t find it amusing. “This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t spend my evenings lurking in parks with my butler, waiting for detectives to walk by so I can shoot them! And if I did occupy myself with such a pastime, I wouldn’t warn you in advance of my intent. That would be insane.”
“Exactly.”
After the accusations he had made and the indecent way he had run his hands over her, his implication that she was crazy was the last straw. Too angry to speak, she kicked him in the shin.
His grip on her wrists loosened, and she jerked free, kicking him in the other shin for good measure. “You swine,” she said as she ducked past him. “You loathsome swine. I try to save your life,” she continued, turning around to face him, “and in return, you manhandle me
“Oh, God.” For a moment, Sophie was so relieved she could not reply to his question, but her relief was short-lived. When he circled the table and began walking toward her, his grim expression told her she had nothing to be relieved about. He looked as if he wanted to wring her neck.
Unnerved, she took a step back and hit the door behind her. With nowhere to run, she plunged into speech. “You don’t appear to be wounded, so I take it the assassin missed, Inspector?”
He didn’t answer but took another step toward her with ominous intent, and she rushed on, “Of course, at night, in the dark, I’m sure it’s much harder to shoot someone than it would be in broad daylight. And I hadn’t thought of a gun, in any case. I had thought a knife, what with all the blood. On the other hand, you don’t look the sort of man to be easily overpowered—”
“Where is the pistol?”
She blinked, looking at him in bewilderment. “How on earth should I know?”
“You seem to know quite a lot.”
“But not that. As I said, I hadn’t even envisioned a weapon, though I had concluded that a knife must have been used. Because of the blood, you see.”
He seized her wrists in one hand, raising her arms over her head and flattening her body against the door behind her. He was a head taller than she, and far stronger, and though Sophie reminded herself that he was a policeman, not a criminal, it did not stop the rapid pounding of her heart.
“If you still have it with you,” he said, “by God, I’ll have you in a cell before you have the chance to use it on me again.”
“You think I shot at you? Why would I? I don’t even know you!” She gasped, shocked, as he flattened his free hand against her hip. “What are you doing? Let go of me!”
He paid no heed. Sophie tried to lean away from his touch as he ran his palm down her leg, but it was useless. When he reached her ankle, his hand moved beneath her skirt and petticoats. He slid his palm back up her leg, the heat of his hand burning her through her stocking. When he reached the hem of her combination, Sophie couldn’t help a cry of fright and humiliation. “I don’t have any gun,” she said, twisting against his touch like a leaf in the wind. “I don’t have it.”
Undeterred by her protestations, he continued his relentless search until he reached the top of her thigh, then he repeated the mortifying procedure with her other leg. He added insult to injury by running his hands all over her bodice, including the dip between her breasts, before he finally seemed satisfied that she had spoken the truth.
Mortified beyond description, Sophie felt her own anger flaring. “Now that you know I don’t have this pistol you’re looking for,” she said through clenched teeth, “let go of me.”
His grip on her wrists tightened. “Did you leave it in the cab? Or perhaps you dumped it in a rubbish heap on your way here?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I—”
“Who’s the man downstairs in the cab?”
“My butler.”
“He’s probably quite loyal to you, so maybe he did it on your behalf.”
“What?” The idea was laughable, but just now she didn’t find it amusing. “This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t spend my evenings lurking in parks with my butler, waiting for detectives to walk by so I can shoot them! And if I did occupy myself with such a pastime, I wouldn’t warn you in advance of my intent. That would be insane.”
“Exactly.”
After the accusations he had made and the indecent way he had run his hands over her, his implication that she was crazy was the last straw. Too angry to speak, she kicked him in the shin.
His grip on her wrists loosened, and she jerked free, kicking him in the other shin for good measure. “You swine,” she said as she ducked past him. “You loathsome swine. I try to save your life,” she continued, turning around to face him, “and in return, you manhandle me
Similar Books
