Chapter Sixteen
They fell back against the door, lips meeting fast, furiously, fiercely. His hands cupped her chin, as she grasped the back of his head, each of them trying to bring the other closer. It was not graceful. Their movements had no finesse. They were creatures of need, fueled by desires even older and more primitive than the alchemical text she’d been reading that day in the parlor. Like then, her fingertips as she’d caressed his lips were stained with ink, and there was a smokiness to her skin from the fire in her laboratory.
She was safe, in his arms. Safe, and alive. He kept repeating this to himself, silently, as he worshipped her with his lips, memorizing every line and contour of her wicked, delicious mouth.
It struck him as a contradiction, how her mouth—so oft used to utter monotonous statements with an almost brutal dedication to the God’s honest truth—could be so plush, so worthy of plundering, so rife with longing. But that was Felicity, was it not? A mess of contradictions and complications, for all her loathing of change and complexity.
There was the sharp angle of her chin as he nudged it up to kiss her lips, juxtaposed with the plumpness of her breasts rubbing up against his shirt and waistcoat. She opened willingly to him, and he thrust his tongue in her mouth, tasting her sweet spiciness.
Felicity had been tentative in their first kisses, processing it all and documenting it for further note, learning the lay of the land. But this time, she met him, pace for pace, her eagerness for him as paramount as his own desire. God, she fired his blood like no other woman ever had—kissing her was the answer to every question he’d ever had.
He pressed a kiss beneath her ear, and she let out a breathy moan of encouragement that stoked the elemental fire within him. So he did it again, and again, for she’d once said “through repetition, one can achieve success.” He intended to prove that hypothesis correct with many, many more kisses, as her fingers twisted in his hair, holding him close to her.
Every touch of her hands, every kiss, was a gift to him, the greatest of boons. This woman, so brilliant and unparalleled, had chosen him, and he did not take that lightly. She was his match, strong in the areas where he was weak, and he’d guide her through this new phase.
He pulled back from her to kiss her again, loving the feel of her, the taste of her, honey and cinnamon. Upon her lips he branded their own truth, the story of their burgeoning love and the memories of their friendship.
But he didn’t want to push her too far, too fast. Felicity was new to the physical aspects of relationships—hell, she was new to the emotional aspects, too. He needed to respect that, just as he respected how her brilliant mind worked.
When they pulled apart to catch their breaths, Nicholas held her in his arms, and Felicity leaned her head against his chest. He rested his chin atop her head, the smell of smoke from her hair serving as an ever-present reminder of how close he’d come to losing her.
When he’d heard the explosion, he’d immediately run for the stairs, fearing the worst. He’d suspected her experiments were dangerous, due to the depth of what she was attempting. Given her anguish when he’d found her, he surmised she hadn’t been successful.
She hadn’t wanted to talk about it earlier, but hopefully she would now. He pulled away from her to lead her to the settee. She plopped down next to him, rubbing her thumbs against her temples in a circular motion.
He took a seat next to her, but he did not reach for her hand again, suspecting it would be easier for him to talk to her this way. Every time he touched her, his heart pounded like a bloody racehorse running the Royal Ascot.
“So, the laboratory exploded.” He stated this in the same pragmatic way she usually spoke, hoping she would fill in the details. When she continued massaging her temples instead of meeting his gaze, he leaned forward, prompting her further. “What caused the explosion?”
She let out a long breath that ended in a sigh. “Aqua fortis, when added to sophick mercury.”
“I see,” he said, though he hadn’t the foggiest notion what either of those two things were.
“Sophick mercury is an amalgamation of antimony, silver, and mercury,” Felicity explained, hunching her shoulders, as if she could retreat inside herself. It had to be bad, what had happened in the laboratory.
“And you use it to make the Philosopher’s Stone.” He remembered her talking about this now. At the time, he’d been a little stunned by the going to bring your aunt back to life, Nicholas part of her explanation. “Why did you add the aqua fortis then?”
She let out another long breath, then inched toward him, setting her hand on top of his. He remained still, not wanting her to retreat, but also making sure he gave her the space and time she needed.
“I couldn’t get the stone to transition into the Phoenix,” she said, her nose scrunching up and her brows wrinkling in such abject frustration it would have been amusing, if he hadn’t known how much this meant to her. “I thought I’d found the secret in a manuscript Margaret bought me. But there was a crack in the lamp, and the ethanol splashed onto the mercury and nitric acid, and then it exploded.”
“That must have been terrifying.” Lord knew it had terrified him enough; he could only imagine how she’d felt. “Will you try again, with a new lamp?” He held his breath, dreading her answer.
“No,” she said, with such absolute surety his head snapped up.
He exhaled, but his relief was short-lived, for he did not know why she had stopped. Her insistence before had unsettled him, and he still didn’t believe she should attempt to play God. But he also didn’t want to be the reason she gave up, because that meant she’d resent him later on, as his mother had grown to resent his father. He could not bear to ruin Felicity’s life that way—could not bear to see her so desperately, desperately unhappy.
A woman as devoted, loyal, and brilliant as she was deserved the absolute best in life.
He forced himself to ask the question, even if he meant they had to return to their previous vow of friendship. “Why not, Felicity? Because of me?”
She blinked at him, clearly surprised by the question. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“I said I didn’t support what you were doing.” Before this week, he would have been offended that she hadn’t considered his opinion—but now, he was starting to see that sometimes, he did not have the last say on things.
“Oh. Yes.” She patted his hand. “Nicholas, I like you and I enjoy kissing you, but when it comes to science, I must defer to more educated opinions.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, for even in her admission of her feelings for him, she was to the point. He would always know where he stood with her—and after months of dealing with lords who stabbed him in the back, her candidness was even more valuable.
“I like you too, Lissie, and I greatly enjoy kissing you.” He grinned, relishing the quick pink that flooded her cheeks at his admission.
“That is good, then.” She smiled back at him before returning to the point. “I will not continue with my resurrection attempts for two reasons. One, the explosion turned into a fire, and it burnt most of my notes.”
“Oh, Felicity, I’m sorry,” he said, pressing her hand.
“I will never understand the need for people to apologize for things they did not do.” She arched a brow at him, and while he could have explained to her the societal convention of the expression, he figured there was no point. If he had learned one thing this week, it was that Felicity danced to her own beat, and he was damnably glad for that. “Nevertheless, I suppose I appreciate the sentiment.”
“And I appreciate your appreciation,” he said, chuckling.
She nodded, a swift, quick incline before her face became impassive again. “Second, even before the explosion, I could tell that the experiment wasn’t going to work. The stone kept repeating the white cycle, instead of transitioning. Aqua fortis was my last hope. Margaret’s body has degraded too much to be saved.”
Tears had begun to fill her eyes as she described the failed experiment, never falling. Her voice dripped with agony, and he could do nothing to make it better.
“I’m sorry,” he said, without thought. “I mean—”
She stopped him with a quick kiss. “I know what you mean, and I thank you.”
That little kiss meant more to him than the far more explicit attentions he’d received from other women. He chucked her on the shoulder. “I have no doubt in mind that if it was possible to resurrect the dead, you would have accomplished it. You’re the most determined woman I’ve ever met, and you truly are the cleverest.”
That made her grin, a real, true, all-encompassing smile, like she’d given Lady Hettie on her arrival. His heart clenched. Finally, he knew what it was like to bring Felicity joy, and it was everything he’d thought it’d be—and more.
“Took you long enough to realize it,” she said.
He tugged her closer to him, placing a kiss atop her head. “Well, I plan on being here for a long time, so you can keep reminding me if I ever forget again.”
She pulled back, so that she could peer up at him. “What do you mean by that?”
Trust Felicity to need it all spelled out for her, with the details neatly delaminated. He didn’t know how she’d take his offer—only that he wanted to be with her, for the long-term. “I’d like to court you, if that’s acceptable. We can take things as slow as you want.”
“I…” She considered for a moment, and he felt his heart stop as her face screwed up in thought. After a moment of nerve-wracking silence, she nodded decisively. “I would like that. But when I said before that I wasn’t duchess material—I’m even less suited to that now. You must see that, given my experiments.”
He couldn’t deny that. But he also knew that he had to start living for himself, instead of seeking everyone else’s approval. And what he wanted—what he’d always wanted, if he’d been honest with himself—was Felicity.
“I can’t promise that the ton will greet you with open arms,” he said, not wanting her to enter into this without having full knowledge. “There are some societal functions I will have to attend, yes, because of my position in the House of Lords. But I can help you navigate that world.” When she blanched, he added quickly, “Without Georgina’s input.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Would you give me a set of instructions? Rules to follow. Proper conversation topics. I work best with guidelines.”
He winked at her. “Do you really think I’d ever pass up the opportunity to order around Felicity Fields?”
She rolled her eyes. “It will be the only time I listen to you, I’ll have you know.”
He tapped her nose, grinning. “I’d expect nothing less from the girl who put frogs in my bed.”
“I can think of a much better use for your bed.” Her shy smile let him know that for once, she actually meant the double entendre. “Eventually. In time.”
His cock twitched at the very thought of her in his bed, her naked body underneath his as he thrust into her. But he could wait, as long as she needed. He wanted her first time to be perfect, as remarkable as the woman herself. He had a lifetime to learn the many secrets of Felicity Fields, and discovering how her mind worked would be the best of studies.
For the first time, he knew that the days ahead of him would be good—for real.