Things had shifted. The pieces of him that had felt so disparate that they couldn’t possibly connect: the duke, the musician, the autocrat, the sounding board had all coalesced into one figure—the lover.
She finally knew this man, and she was willing to love him for whatever brief time they had together.
A lump formed in her throat at the thought of their parting, even though there was no other reasonable ending to this situation. Her mind told her to enjoy the time while they had it. Her business deal was almost done. Her vision of owning her own home was becoming more tangible every minute. And, for the moment, she had Edward’s love. Any feelings of discontent were both illogical and extraordinarily privileged.
Determined to distract herself, she turned over so she was facing him, her eyeline at his throat, so close she could see the faint flicker of his pulse. Gently, she traced lines in the coarse hair on his chest as it rose and fell evenly.
He was beautiful in his sleep. All the pretense of the duke was gone and instead he was simply Edward, a man whose responsibilities had worn a crease between his brows that had not disappeared with slumber, whose stubble was flecked with grey but whose lips were soft and relaxed into a half smile.
She lightly ran her finger across them and the steady thump she could feel through his chest faltered before resuming its normal rhythm. Curious, she tried again, this time running a finger along his jawline.
His heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t help but smile to herself. Moving her hand to his bare waist, she turned her head so she was once again looking at the hollow in his throat, and she planted a soft kiss at its base.
His heart rate picked up, but this time it didn’t settle back into its sleeping rhythm. She kissed him again, and then gently sucked at his skin. The arm around her tightened, drawing her closer to him. She grazed his skin with her teeth and felt his cock stiffen.
“God, Fi…”
She broke off from the nibbling at his neck to look up at him. His eyes burned with desire. She was stoking those flames, and the fire was catching.
He reached for her, his arms gently pushing on her shoulders, trying to lay her on her back, but she resisted. With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she shook her head, turning the tables on him, taking delight in the surprise on his face as she straddled him.
Leaning over, her hair hanging over her shoulder, she captured his mouth in a kiss. “My turn.”
***
When she woke next, dawn light was beginning to creep under the curtains. Edward was at the foot of the bed, peeling a pair of breeches down his calves. “Yours,” he said, holding them up and tossing them to her. “I’m looking forward to never being in the position to make that mistake again.”
“I’ve been wearing breeches as long as you’ve known me.”
He sighed. “True.”
“You’re leaving,” she said, sitting up in bed, pulling the blanket to her chest and watching him pull on clothes that were actually his.
Edward gave a small smile and crossed to her, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her. “It’s almost daylight. I should go before the maids catch us.”
That made sense. Edward’s staff had proved loyal. Nary a word of her ruse had escaped the confines of the house. But she had no desire to have the people who brought her tea know about her sexual exploits.
But despite the sense it made, what she wanted was to curl back up in bed with him. They had weeks together, at most. She didn’t want to waste any of it. But she wasn’t going to beg. “You’re right. Take the book with you,” she said, indicating the copy ofPlurality of Worldsby her bedside. “If you run into anyone, you can say you were retrieving it.”
Edward grinned as he buckled his slippers. “Yes, because I’m sure that will fool them.” Scooting up the bed until they were hip to hip, he sank his hand into her hair. His fingers grazed the back of her scalp.
Then a loud boom sounded from below and the floor beneath them shook. It took half a second for her to process what she’d heard. The blood drained from her face.
“My lab.”
Chapter 22
They ran down the hall at full speed. She didn’t stop long enough to put on shoes. She simply needed to get to the drawing room she’d converted into a laboratory as fast as humanly possible.
Her heart raced, and she couldn’t tell if the pounding in her ears was blood rushing through her head or echoes of the explosion that had rocked them. She grabbed the balustrade as they thundered down the stairs so as not to lose her balance. Simmons and three footmen joined them in the race.
As they approached her lab, she could see the flickering orange reflections on the marble floor of the doorway. “Goddamn it.”
“Fiona, wait.” Edward grabbed at her shoulder but she shook him off, raising an arm against the heat as she entered the room.
Thankfully, the fire was contained to her workbench and the wall above it. She’d cleared all other furniture and decorations away from the area when she’d first set up, limiting how far the flame could travel.
“We’ll go for water,” one of the footmen said, dashing out of the room.
