Chapter 14
Rachel tossed and turned in bed, finally rose, went to the windows and pulled back the drapes. The light of a full moon spilled across the floor. Burdensome clouds, clambered over each other in their haste to pass the mountain, herded by the wind and jarred like disordered concentric circles.
She fiddled with the edge of the hangings, drawing the silky fringe through her fingers. Part of her wanted to fetch Anthony to her side. But a bigger part of her was terrified and rooted her to the spot. She paced, walking in the quadrangle of moonlight. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture herself with Anthony. Hidden away in his laboratory, laying on his cot, propped up on a pillow, watching him take notes. And then he would turn and smile, gazing at her with that same smoldering sensuality that caused her insides to melt.
Oh, to have Anthony…but the fault in their destiny was the inability to see that the world falls in love with fantasy. She shook her head. No longer would she succumb to mythical notions.
She looked at her solitary bed. Since sleep had abandoned her, she might as well do something. A good book, perhaps. She threw on her robe and lit a candle, only the soft pad of her feet on the carpeted stairs echoed in the friendless quiet. In the library, she lifted her candle, illuminating row upon row of volumes marching across the shelves. She ran her fingers down numerous spines, awed of her noiseless companions and the learning to be had between the leathery jackets. At random, she selected a tome, set her candle on a table and sat on a settee, pulling her feet up beneath the folds of her robe.
Kama Sutra. Of all the books available, she had chosen the ancient Indian book of love. Authored by Vatsyayana in eighth century India and first printed on palm blocks, the book had later been illustrated and printed in Sanskrit.
Her brother and cousin had laughed and drank over the book one night when they thought she was asleep. When they were snoring in their cups, she had tip-toed into their room to sneak a peek. Jacob had awakened, slammed the book shut before her widening eyes. She’d received a strong chastisement. Yet, she possessed a curious fascination for the book that disappeared and had searched every square inch of the house.
The corners of her lips turned up. She looked over her shoulder. Good. The doors were shut. Everyone asleep. Unimpeded, she commenced to thumb through the forbidden pages. With certainty, she didn’t understand Sanskrit. Oh my, how was it possible to achieve the suggestive physical acts between a man and a woman? She angled her head, studying the various poses. The bed in Anthony’s laboratory evoked the most sinful and debauched renderings her thoughts could devise. She let out a small gasp and clutched her bosom, her hand brushing against nipples that peaked through the silk of her gown. Her breath came out in short bursts. Belly-low, her muscles tightened and her legs clamped together. Two scorching blue eyes taunted her as she relived the sweet agony of what Anthony had done to her in the bathing chamber…his lips, hot and hungry against her mouth, his desire raw and consuming, bringing forth some kind of hidden awareness interred in her from birth. All she could think—all she could think of at all—was that it could not happen.
Yet she was mesmerized with the possibilities, her mind consumed with the erotic positions the couples in the book were doing. How would it feel to lay with Anthony? To taste the hot salt of his skin, her fingers twining in the soft silk of his hair, to sample all the sensual things between a man and a woman.
She rubbed the corner of the book, flipping the pages. Logic and feelings had nothing whatsoever to do with each other.
If there was one thing she wanted, it was to lay with him before she returned home in a couple of weeks. Before she returned to the hurt and disappointment of men, rejecting her because of something out of her control. Conjuring images, the scent of sandalwood wafted over her, warm breath purred on her neck, too real. She turned. Anthony. She gasped out a small “Oh… Heat rose from the bottom of her toes to the roots of her hair.
He angled his head to the provocative pose in the Kama Sutra. How wicked was his smile? “Interesting reading.”
She clapped the book shut. “I-I could not sleep.”
“The text would give me insomnia.”
What was she to say?
He circled the couch and sat next to her. The room fell silent, their gazes locked and the tension in the air palpable. “I had a very restless day and night, thinking only of you.”
“Of me?”
“I want to be with you in every way a man is with a woman.” He gazed at her upturned face with sensual regard, and let out a breath. “It is the time for secrets.”
“Secrets?”
He stared at his folded hands in front of him. “If I tell you my secret, do you promise not to be critical.”
Rachel sensed the great magnitude he wanted to share. What could have affected him so? Why would he fear her criticism? Had he committed a crime? She smoothed his queue behind his collar. “Never would I condemn you.”
He tugged at his cuff.
What kernel of his life dragged him down? Her throat ached for the gifted man whose pride bound him with chains of suffocation.
“I have never been with a woman—completely.”
That was all. She smiled inwardly, happy he wasn’t an ax murderer. Of course, she understood his humiliation. “But you were married.”
“Celeste was young, panicky, so I gave her time. When I did try to make advances she laughed at me, called me a bumbling fool. I didn’t know what I was doing wrong.”
Her heart skidded. Anthony existed in a prison of his own self-doubt fueled by a heartless woman. How she would like to slap Celeste.
“I was on the cusp of discovery, spending night and day in my laboratory, and then I identified my notes had been stolen.”
Rachel nodded, conceding to the logic.
“Needless to say, I can’t get you out of my mind and it is driving me mad. More than anything I want to be with you, like an equation—two attracted individuals proportional to the product of their affections and inversely proportional to the square of the separation between the two.”
Rachel let out a breath as the spell he wove around her heightened.
“In other words, I want your body pressed against my heart, and your hands spreading my thoughts, enduring the curves of my passions and harnessing my hopes.”
He wanted her.
“Oh, Anthony, the way you made me feel in the tub…”
Anthony placed a gentle finger beneath her chin and she vibrated with the nervous energy of a doe ready to leap through the forest thicket. “So we both start on even ground. Can you imagine what there is to discover?”
“Yes,” she agreed, enjoying the familiarity of his touch. She trusted Anthony.
“You understand that everything I do is designed to eliminate randomness and eradicate chance. To deduce every possibility, predict every response, and mold experimentation toward a desired outcome.”
The intensity of his regard pinned her to the sofa, and then the tension in his coiled muscles, the pulse throbbing at a vein in his strong neck.
“I understand your fears, Rachel.”
She dragged her palms across her skirts. He referred to her near defilement.
“There is a bottom of society that has evil intent…that wants power over another human being. That is not the relationship between a man and a woman. The person who attacked you should be hanged. I would kill anyone who tried to harm you. I treasure you, Rachel, honor and adore you. At any time, you want me to stop, I will. If you want to cry, we can hold hands.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, grateful for his patience and compassion. Sunshine and hope, rising out of the world of shadows and pain. His large hand took her face and held it gently, his thumb brushing the wetness away, his touch almost unbearable in its tenderness. His hands slipped into her hair and brought her closer.
There was nothing more that Anthony desired to do but kiss her. He waited for her to bolt, would understand immediately−he intuitively knew her thoughts.
The candle sputtered then breathed its last, leaving them in a swath of blazing moonlight. He felt her yielding and then restrained himself, for he needed to keep his head. Yet images of her in the bathing chamber and her reaction that afternoon exploded, the discovery of what she was reading, and now, the transparent silk of her gown and what lay beneath wreaked havoc with his senses. She was his, always would be, and he liked that fact. His body heated like electrical fire as her soft curves melted into him. He pushed back her robe, and hungrily his mouth covered hers, his tongue tracing the contours.
“You’ve defined the question, Anthony. Shouldn’t we begin to test hypothetical explanations through observation and measurement of the subject?”
She wanted him.
Her hands slid up his arms and linked about his neck, her fingers winding in the tendrils of his hair in the back of his neck. Aroused now, his one hand lowered to the small of her back while his lips moved down her throat, following the elegant curve to the collarbone, right where the edge of her gown met skin. He nudged it down, tasting one new inch of her, exploring the soft, salty sweetness, and shuddering with pleasure when he cupped the rounded swell of her breast with his hand, feeling her nipple firm under his touch.
“I do not want to frighten you.” He kissed her, reached down and brought up the silk of her gown, feeling the long satiny smoothness of her knee and thigh. The minute she moaned, his tongue plunged into her mouth and the kiss exploded. His hand cupped the soft flesh of her bottom and pulling her against him, making her aware of his aroused body. She stiffened at the forced intimacy, and then pressed her soft body into him.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he rasped.
“Don’t stop.”
She was driving him insane with need. He tasted the honeyed sweetness of her lips, mingling with the wine he drank, and then buried his face in the valley of her breasts. She pushed his hand to the bare flesh between her thighs, and moaned when he found the hot, wet heat of her and slipped two fingers inside.
Kama Sutra had laid a steady roadmap. Part one fitted in part two. Damn. His body ached with the need for release, for the ease he knew he could find inside her. He suckled her breast and moved his fingers in and out, analyzed and memorized her reactions. He touched her center. She bucked. Interesting. To experience the hot heady perfume of her feminine arousal.
“Anthony. Too much.”
Tentatively, she smoothed her hand over his erection bound by his breeches. He yanked her hand away. Afraid he had no control.
Her swollen lips pouted. “I need to experiment.” She resumed her stroking.
His mouth swooped down on hers. He ground into her hand. Blood rushed to his groin. His gut clenched tight. No control. He shuddered. Exploded.
In a span of a second, she tore her mouth from his, demanding desperately that he stop, whispering frantically to him. She shoved him away, just as a rustling sound penetrated his senses. He angled his head to the noise. Blinked.
Aunt Margaret.
He pulled her gown down and stood, closing his coat over the stain in his breeches. He stepped between Rachel and Aunt Margaret, presenting a shield, so Rachel would have time to right herself. They had been in the shadows of the sofa. He was certain his maidenly aunt had not seen or heard anything as she entered. How convenient her timing. She possessed the same targeting as a homing pigeon. A growl erupted from his throat. “It is late, Aunt Margaret.”
She held her candle up to light his face, her ever-present ear horn drooping from her neck. She must sleep with the item.
“What a ferocious scowl, Anthony. Why you look like a bear deprived of its dinner. Why is that?” She didn’t wait for an answer but toddled over to a table, lit a candle from hers. She inspected the shelves, taking her time, selecting a book.
“I’m having trouble sleeping,” she said over her shoulder.
Anthony doubted that notion.
She returned, craning her head around him. “There you are, Miss Thorne. Are you looking for a book, too? Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“The physiology of cats?” Anthony inclined his head to his Aunt’ choice of books.
She raised her ear horn to her ear.
“You hate cats,” he shouted.
Aunt Margaret dropped her ear horn and waved a hand in airy dismissal. “I’ve taken a sudden interest in them. Well off I go to bed. We have a busy day in the lab tomorrow. You two go to bed, too,” she said.
Anthony did a double take at her suggestion. “If you say so.” Just short of murder, his mind burned with ways to get rid of his wandering, unfortunate aunt who seemed to show up at precisely the wrong time. A new bacteria? Virus?
Rachel exhaled behind him. “Do you think—”
Anthony’s lips twisted into a cynical smile, the force of his voice unleashed his great annoyance. “No, she did not see anything.”
“Thank you.” Relief mirrored in her face. “I could not bear another scandal.”
She took his hand, the soft pad of her thumb, smoothing across his knuckles. “Could we just sit?”
Just sit? He let loose a breath of frustration. Dampness seeping through his breeches, he grimaced at his lack of control. He needed to change.
The gentle touch of her fingers, and the look in her eyes cemented his resolve. Anthony moved her to the settee, sheltering her in his arms, content with the wild beating of her heart upon his chest.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I apologize for—”
“You made me feel wonderful.”
His chest expanded, gratitude for this astonishing woman who saw past his humiliation and rewarded him with her generous spirit. He pulled her closer, thinking about her resilience. Strong and bending like a willow in the wind. That her life had been chaotic, that she had suffered agonies which would have stripped a normal soul of its sanity, and then, faced the torment of isolation. And yet, all the darkness of the world could not extinguish her dazzling light.
Without a doubt, she flouted rules of convention with her brilliance. She peppered comments with sarcasm, adapting an air of fearlessness, in which people were drawn by her charisma and charm, but beneath the bolstered air of confidence hid a woman who was unable to show her vulnerability to others—except to him.
Anthony enumerated her assets. How she made light of a situation to defuse tension. Her instinctual sense of people—Lord Ward, Captain Johnson, Joseph Banks. Her insatiable curiosity in the workings of science, her amusement and amazement even in the smallest things like birds that flew through the forests and the frost scintillating in the winter air. Wasn’t she the antithesis of his predictability? Didn’t she stand up to his ire, encouraging him, divining her confidence and determination, knowing he’d succeed? Didn’t she match his own work ethic and gratification in achievement? Wasn’t she sympathetic, an attentive listener, cheering him on no matter how small his successes were? Most endearing was her wry sense of humor, no matter the predicament. She made him laugh at life, pulling him from his dark grimness to her light.
Then there was her compassionate and responsible nature, caring for her younger brother, administrating a shipyard and all its workers. How she treated people with kindness, right down to the idiotic blacksmith and his meddling aunt. With Rachel, he opened his eyes to the good in humanity and the world. She was his life rope.
He nuzzled the top of her head, inhaling lavender and lemon balm, her scent, experiencing the most extraordinary torment. He reclined stiffly as she stroked his chest, then grabbed her hand to end her simple exploration before something started that he would not be able to rein in.
Her eyelashes swept down upon her cheeks, long and sooty and he watched the rise and fall of her breasts, warm, full, enticing. So, while the stars played in the skies, Anthony contented himself until she fell asleep, and then carried her upstairs. She sighed then, and nestled her face into his chest before he laid her on the bed. Glancing down upon her silken head, her chestnut hair, gleaming in the meager light and fanned across the pillow in splendor, brought warmth to his heart.
“Anthony,” she murmured and stuck her hand out searchingly.
He pulled a deep breath. He was the last thought on her mind. How he would like to crawl into bed with her. The whole world could be damned. She was his and he made up his mind to court her. He closed the door to her room and shook his head.
All I wanted was a husband and children.
He’d give her all her dreams on a silver platter.