Maybe she could run off to America.

Ada slammed the vial of formic acid down on the workbench and rubbed her eyes.

It was the third time she’d added too much acid to the solution. Damnation, this grieving business was playing havoc with her experiments. Had it only been a day since she’d learned her dear friend—her only friend—wanted her dead?

Only a day since she’d taken the coward’s way out and disappeared?

Although Mr. Nance’s latest sensation novel really was too thrilling, not even it could keep the sad thoughts at bay. If anything, the heroine’s journey from put upon servant to strong, accomplished reformer—complete with her very own shining knight—only added to the sharp ache in her heart.

She sank down on the nearest stool. Two restless nights were taking their toll.

The morning sun slanted through the windows across from her workbench, making the bottles and jars sparkle. She’d retreated from the chaos in the house, desperate for quiet as servants returned to work and bustled about setting things to right.

Desperate for a way to scrub away the memories of Edison’s kisses.

Today, though, nothing engaged her. Instead of the quiet comfort her lab usually offered, the neat arrangements of chemicals, potions and oils mocked her. The room felt cold, sterile, as if Edison’s very force had energized it.

She propped an elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand. He’d only spent a few days at her home, mere hours in her workshop. How could seem so empty?

Surely he couldn’t have had such a powerful effect so quickly?

Ada rubbed her tired eyes. She was very much afraid he had.

America might be the ticket.

A long trip across the Pond would distract her. She could visit the Smithsonian Institution and the Philadelphia Society of Electro-chemistry.

Those brash Americans might be more receptive to a female scientist. Foolish not to see for herself. She might just go.

Soon.

Would do, if it weren’t for Grandmama. Ada’s shoulders slumped. She couldn’t drag the poor dear to another continent. And she couldn’t leave Miss Peabody with such a burden.

No, America was out.

Ada moved to the sink and washed her hands, letting the cold water soothe her, refocus her brain.

It didn’t work.

A week ago, she’d had no idea passion was such a potent drug. Now she was addicted.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to feel that shiver of anticipation as he raised up over her, their legs entwined, while she waited for him to drive into her.

She wanted that sense of belonging, of hope and brightness and love. Wanted it in the worst way imaginable.

But it wouldn’t be with Edison Sweet.

Facts were facts. The man could charm the soul from an angel, but he was positively allergic to relationships.

Nothing for it but to move forward.

Ada set her jaw and returned to her experiment. The jars of chemicals on the countertop waited patiently. She glanced out across the wide lawn. More brown than green now as the frosty autumn mornings chilled them, the stubby blades of grass spiked up from the hard ground.

A dark figure flashed past the library windows. Beecham. Ada sighed. She didn’t have the energy to ignore his stiff disapproval. Best hide out in her lab as long as she could. Once the rest of the staff returned, they’d buffer his acerbic nature.

If she could only get the proportions right, she could complete the new cleaning potion that had been rattling around in her brain for the past few months. Something that would make cleaning the ovens easier. Something that would keep Cook and the scullery maids from having to exhaust themselves polishing the hob.

Something that would dissolve grease and burnt food.

Dissolve things.

A laugh snuck out of her mouth, lifted the heaviness from her heart for a moment. She had it, the key to making Edison’s disodorizers actually disodorize.

Formic acid.

The acid would neutralize the reaction between the bicarbonate and the silica gel that made his mixtures smoke instead of absorb odors.

She pulled her small scale close and began grabbing jars off the shelves above. First she measured the bicarbonate into a clean bowl. She was just measuring out a gram of silica when a peculiar rolling, clacking sound broke her concentration.

A flash of gold shone in the windows. Ada gaped at the frost-covered lawn. Edison’s automaton was trundling down the path toward her laboratory.

Even as she tried to rein it in, a fizzy wave of hope tingled through her limbs. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare disturb the dreamlike image.

Her gaze raked over the lawn, lingering on the corners and the shadows behind the windows into the house. Edison himself nowhere to be seen, a fact that served to flatten her first, hopeful response.

Still frozen, she had to rush to open the door when it appeared the automaton intended to enter.

Its small wheels caught on the doorsill, threatening to pitch the machine over on its head, but the engine inside growled, and propelled it up over the small impediment.

The butler lurched through the doorway, stopping just inside the room. One pipestem arm articulated upwards, a delicate vase holding a sprig of hothouse violets clutched in his pincers.

“For you.” Edison’s deep voice, spiced with a metallic ring, boomed from the speaker in the butler’s chest.

The butler thrust the vase toward her, but as it did, the pincers clenched, shattering the thin glass.

“Oh dear.” Ada plucked the last of the violets from the metal fingers. The stems were mashed, making the small bouquet look sadly forlorn.

Vulnerable.

Even as she clutched the sad little collection to her chest, she whirled around, searching for him.

Much as she tried to stop it, her heart soared. He wouldn’t do this if he didn’t mean to fix things, would he?

Just as she was beginning to despair, Edison’s broad frame filled the doorway.

He looked tired. Rumpled. Completely irresistible.

She wanted to rush into his arms. But she wouldn’t. Not until she was certain of his intentions.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Sweet?” she asked, trying for a neutral, measured tone.

Edison looked at his butler, at the water and the shards of glass puddled together on the floor along with a few macerated violet stems.

“I thought if I sent Otto in, he’d make less of a hash of this than I would.” His shoulders lifted in a great sigh. “Seems I was wrong about that, too.”

“Not at all.” Hope bubbled up again, making her feel light and giddy. He’d sent the automaton in to test the waters. Was he really so fearful of her response?

The thought made her heart beat faster. “He has a certain appeal.”

Edison looked unconvinced. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Ada patted the machine on the head. “Just when one is ready to toss him to the curb, one finds oneself inexplicably charmed.” She smiled shyly. “Much like his creator.”

Head down, hands in his pockets, Edison nodded. Though it was hard to see his face, Ada thought she caught the edge of a smile.

“Why don’t you come in?” she offered.

Before Edison could answer, Otto sprang to life with a metallic squeak and a whir of gears. The automaton whirled about, flinging drops of water around the room.

“…a-r-r-ry me?” The words, clipped and broken, surged out of his speaker. “A-a-d-da, w-o-uld you m-m-arry m-m-me-e?”

“Damned machine.” Edison brought a fist down on Otto’s pointed head. The automaton spun down. His arms dropped to his sides with a sharp clank.

Surprise and laughter collided with relief and hope and a million other bright, shiny emotions.

Edison did want her. The silly man just had no idea how to ask.

It took a mighty effort for Ada to refrain from launching herself into his arms. “Jumped the gun, did he?”

Edison bit his lip. “I wasn’t sure you’d see me, so I—”

Ada held her hand out, stopping him. “No need to explain.”

“There isn’t?” Edison scratched his cheek, clearly bewildered.

He searched her face, as if trying to divine her thoughts.

Ada folded her arms across her chest and concentrated on appearing calm and serene. She couldn’t make this part easy for him. He had to want it as much as she did.

And she had to know it.

Edison cleared his throat. “We get along like phosphorus and salt.”

“Sodium and potassium,” she added.

“Exactly.” He reached for her hands, and pulled her to him, until the heat from his body radiated across the few inches separating them. “Lots of sparks and a fair amount of friction.”

“A dangerous combination, when not controlled.”

“Indeed.” He raised her fingers to his lips. “But there’s no progress without a little risk.”

She held her breath, waiting, not daring to hope the sentiments his automaton had spewed weren’t some sort of horrible mistake.

Edison stilled. “I really should ask you myself.”

“One would think.”

Before she knew what he was about, he dropped to one knee, his fingers still entwined with hers. “Mrs. Ada Templeton, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?“</p>

The love shining in his eyes made her giddy. She smiled back, her heart so full of love, so full of relief and gratitude she thought she might cry.

“I would,” she whispered. “Happily.”

Edison rose and pulled her into his arms. He hugged her so tightly she had a hard time drawing breath.

Not that she cared in the least.

He threaded a hand through her hair, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. “I don’t deserve you, you know.”

“You’ll just have to see to it you earn your keep, then, won’t you?”

His laughter rippled through her, warming her very soul. “I’ll give it my all.”

She pressed her lips to his chest. “See that you do.”

Edison set her back far enough to touch his mouth to hers.

The contact sent an electrical shock straight through her. A delicious, knee-weakening shock.

She wanted him to do it again.

He caressed her cheek. “You look tired.”

The concern in his voice warmed her. She traced a finger across the dark circles beneath his eyes. “So do you.”

“Getting Otto ready cut into my sleep time.” He grinned tiredly. “As did… other things. Something kept me up late numerous times last week.”

She ducked her head to hide the grin she couldn’t stop. “Of course. Other things. That can be so vexing, can it not?”

Edison grunted. “You’ve no idea.”

Ada closed her eyes. Silly man.

He slid a finger beneath her chin and gently tilted her head up until their eyes met. “That settles it. Medical research suggests a good night’s rest is vital for mental acuity and… vigor. In the interest of our mutual health, we owe it to ourselves to take whatever steps are necessary to ensure—”

“Shut up.” Ada pressed a finger to his lips. “You irritating man. Shut up and kiss me.”

The joyful energy in his grin sparked a response that took her breath away.

As did his kiss. He took her mouth with a fierceness, a hot, aching passion that made her shiver. As if he were staking his claim. And offering her the same.

While his tongue explored her mouth, tasting and teasing, he pulled her against him, until his hard shaft pressed into her thighs.

A bolt of heat shot from her belly to her very core, making her pulse with wanting. Then he slid his hands behind her and lifted her up onto the counter before settling between her thighs.

Ada spread her legs and dug her fingers into his shoulders, urging him closer, but a flicker of movement in the library caught her eye.

Half hidden behind the curtains, Beecham was staring straight at them, his face rigid with shock.

“I’ve missed this.” Edison ducked his head to kiss the base of her neck.

Ada pushed him away. “We’re in my laboratory.”

“We are.” He kissed her again.

“It’s all windows.”

“It is.” He slid his hands up her torso until he was cupping her breasts.

“Edison. Stop!” She laughed.

“Only if you promise we can continue this somewhere more private.”

Ada kissed him on the nose. “Lead the way, Mr. Sweet. Lead the way.”

* * *

“Do you think the Navy will still want my batteries?” Ada asked as Edison towed her across the back lawn toward the house.

“Of course they will,” he responded without giving it a thought. His mind—and the sharp ache in his nether regions—was focussed on one thing. Getting Ada into bed. Alone.

Now.

She yanked him to a stop. “You won’t interfere with my work, will you?” The thought clearly terrified her. “Many men seem to expect their wives to be… wifely.”

Edison opened his mouth. A snappy retort sprang to the ready, but he bit down on it. He could see how serious she was. He gathered her into his arms, right there in the center of the lawn, and tilted her chin up until their eyes met.

“I love you. I love your intelligence and your inquisitive nature. I love everything about you.” He ogled her lush breasts. “Absolutely everything. And I will especially love working together, side by side, in our new laboratory.”

Ada opened her mouth to respond, but he laid a finger against her lips.

“I only have one demand,” he continued. “It must have fewer windows.”

Ada laughed. “Or perhaps curtains?”

“And a sturdy lock on the door.”

She nodded. “I believe we’re of the same mind there, sir.”

Edison tugged her along toward the house. “Then you know where this is going.”

He flung the door open to see Ada’s stiff old butler standing atop the hearth in the library, hands reaching for the ridiculous coat of arms nailed to the wall above the fireplace.

The man’s gaze raked over them, noting every out-of-place hair, every wrinkle, every flaw in their attire.

Edison bristled. “What the hell are you doing?” He jutted his chin toward the shield.

“This old thing?” The butler gestured at it. “It’s missing a sword. If we can’t replace it, I suggest that madam—"

“Leave it be,” Edison ordered. “It’s perfect exactly the way it is.”

The butler threw Ada a questioning look. She nodded firmly. “Leave it.”

“And… Beecham, is it?” Edison asked.

“Yes, sir?”

“Clear out the upstairs.”

“But the maids are—”

Edison’s nostrils flared. The man was coming dangerously close to a throttling. “Do you like your position here, Beecham?”

The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed furiously as he swallowed. “Of course.”

“Then I suggest you follow directions more scrupulously from now on.” He grinned down at his intended. “We’ve got a replacement at the ready, should the need arise.”

Ada’s playful smile could have lifted him straight off his feet. “Mr. Sweet is correct. Anymore attitude, Beecham, and you’ll be searching for a new position.”

The old butler offered a stiff bow. “Of course.” He turned on his heel, his very essence radiating outrage.

Ada frowned up at the old coat of arms. “Apparently I’ve lost track of the other sword. It does look rather silly without it.”

“I like silly.” Edison propped a foot on the hearth and examined the lopsided thing. “Besides, every time I look at it, I’ll remember the wild-haired banshee who attacked me.”

Her cheeks pinked in a most delightful manner as she turned away.

“But now,” he said, taking her hand, “I’ve got more interesting things on my mind.” He pulled her to him with one hand, as if they were waltzing. “Wicked things,” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh my.”

The small gasp stoked the fire building inside him.

Continuing the dance, Edison twirled her out into the hallway, and toward the stairs. Her swaying hips had his full attention as she mounted the stairs ahead of him, until the front door burst open.

“Ada? We’re home, dear,” her grandmother called out. “I’ve brought company.”

“Grandmama!” Chagrin tinged Ada’s smile. She gave him a small shrug. “Sorry,” she whispered as she headed back down the stairs.

Edison closed his eyes and groaned halfheartedly.

“Did you have a nice trip?” Ada asked as she hurried down to the entryway.

“Delightful.” Her grandmother stepped aside to allow the Hapgoods through the door. “Look who I found. It’s the crown prince. Come in, you naughty man,” she waved Mr. H to her side.

To Edison’s surprise, neither of the Hapgoods seemed surprised by her announcement. Indeed, Mrs. H took the old love by the hand and steered her toward the stairs. “Let’s change out of these dusty clothes. We’ll let His Highness put his feet up and have a brandy.” Mrs. H turned toward her husband. “As long as he doesn’t get too used to the idea.”

Mr. H ducked his head to hide a smile.

Edison sidled up to their houseman. “Your Highness.” He bowed.

The older man snorted. “Prince of the stables and the ash can and the coal scuttle’s more like it.”

Edison chuckled. “I’d enjoy it while I could.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” The man’s gray eyes twinkled.

Then he studied Edison and Ada. Eyebrows rose to his hairline as he caught the glow in Ada’s cheeks. “You’ve set things to right, I see.”

Edison clasped his hands behind his back. “I have at that, sir.”

Mr H nodded and looked around the entry as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Place is a bit posh for the likes of you, but you could do worse.”

Edison grinned up at the woman he’d come so close to losing. “The view makes up for it.”

“That it does, my boy.” Mr. H smiled fondly at his plump wife. “Never forget it.”

Edison indulged in another perusal of his own beautiful scientist. He didn’t intend to.

Not for as long as he lived.

* * *