“Just this,” she whispered before pressing her mouth to his. She kissed him boldly, slipping her tongue inside to taste him, nipping at his lip before she kissed him again.
He let out a moan when she stroked her fingers against his neck and tightened his hold on her waist, but he let her take the lead when their mouths met again and again.
When she lowered onto her heels, he bent and pressed his forehead to hers. They were both hot, breathless, and there wasn’t an inch of space between their bodies.
“Is that enough?” he asked in a teasing tone.
She couldn’t answer. Her body was humming with need and her heart ached with tenderness that frightened her. She was afraid of the answer too, because the kiss wasn’t enough.
She wanted much more.
Chapter Twenty-One
Diana blew a stray hair from her brow and tightened the bolt into place. A strange sensation rushed through her, a wave of relief mixed with a heady thrill of victory.
She was finished. Five machines crowded her workshop, the metal polished and gleaming, every piece fixed in place, and all had been tested successfully.
Air whooshed from her lungs on a sigh, but the moment she relaxed onto her stool, exhaustion threatened to sweep in. She noticed the aches in her shoulders and back. Too many hours had passed since she’d stood and moved or had anything to eat.
“I’ve done it,” she said to the empty workshop and five machines that had once been only an idea in her mind. “We’ve done it,” she added more quietly.
Aidan had helped make this moment possible. She wanted to tell him. He needed to know that she’d fulfilled their promise to Repton, and a day early.
Glancing at the hammer on her workbench, she recalled his hands curved around it, how diligently he’d worked to help her. And their kiss, and all the kisses before that one.
Her machines were done. Success was close enough to taste. But the joy of victory felt incomplete.
Somewhere along the way, what she wanted had shifted. She still craved success with her inventions, to see them put to good use. To be taken seriously as an inventor.
But now she wanted more. She couldn’t deny her feelings, however they might complicate everything she and Aidan had agreed to.
She wanted him, and the need to tell him, to show him what she felt, was as strong as any desire she’d ever known. Whatever else might happen, whatever the future might hold, tonight she wanted to tell him the truth and hold nothing back.
She grabbed a rag and rubbed bits of grease from her fingers, then she untied her smock and headed for her room to wash and change.
“Diana? Is that you?” her mother called out from the drawing room.
“Mama, I was just going out.” She hovered on the threshold, trying to avoid getting drawn into a long conversation.
“Of course you are, my dear. We all are. Have you forgotten that we’re to dine with your uncle this evening?” Her mother flicked a hand toward her. “Go and prepare, Diana, so that we aren’t late. And wear one of your ball gowns. I think he plans for a bit of dancing.”
“Mama, I can’t go tonight.” There was virtually no part of her plan that she could explain to her mother. “I have an appointment that I must keep.”
“Yes, you do. With your family.” Her mother took on the stern look she wore when pleading and arguments would no longer have any effect on her resolve. “You’re out unchaperoned far too often or hidden away in your workshop. Tonight you will accompany your family.”
Diana nodded. She’d been working so feverishly to finish her devices, she’d barely spoken to her mother or Dominick in days. Accompanying them seemed unavoidable.
But as she made her way upstairs, her thoughts were on Aidan. She was determined that the night wouldn’t end without seeing him.
Aidan could never decide whether it was worse attending someone else’s party or hosting one’s own. Two days after his visit to Diana’s workshop, he sat on an overstuffed chair at the edge of his drawing room and decided that, at least on this night, playing host was most definitely worse.
Of course, it wasn’t truly a party. Just a gathering of minds. He usually enjoyed gathering thinkers together to discuss myriad topics. He’d hosted dinner parties with conversation that focused on everything from industrial inventions to Peel’s governmental reforms to the state of banking in the City.
Tonight he couldn’t concentrate as the conversation ebbed and flowed around the topic of transportation. Present were a railroad engineer, the designer of a steamship, and two young men who vowed their steam-powered horseless carriage would soon be as popular on London’s streets as an omnibus.
On any other night, the debates and discussion would have intrigued Aidan, and he would have hoped, if nothing else, a fresh investment opportunity might arise from the evening. But tonight, he just wanted everyone gone. A report from one of his investigators lay unopened on his study desk. In the busyness of preparing for the evening, he hadn’t yet found time to read the report.
He swigged back the last drops of whiskey in his tumbler and was ridiculously pleased when the clock chimed the ten o’clock hour. It was early by the standards of many London parties, but Aidan had long ago designated it as the time when his gatherings drew to an end.
A couple of guests recognized the cue and began taking their leave.
Within half an hour, his drawing room was messy but blessedly empty and quiet. He rang for a maid and made his way back to his study, tugging at the knot of his tie and sliding it off as he entered the room. As soon as he settled in his desk chair, he heard someone rapping at the front door. Ignoring the sound, he slid a penknife across the letter from his Bow Street Runner. A guest often left some discarded personal item. He assumed one of the staff would retrieve it and send them on their way.
After meeting with Callihan, he’d asked his investigators to scour court records, but there was no record of a Mary Iverson ever being charged with any crime in Greater London for the years prior to his mother’s death. There were also some notations regarding the Earl of Wyndham. If the investigators’ information was to be believed, Wyndham had been abroad for months prior to Aidan’s birth, though the investigator could not determine exact dates. The estimate made it improbable, though not impossible, that the man was his sire.
Of course, with no leads to offer, his investigator hadn’t discovered a hint about Aidan’s sister either.
“Bloody hell.” Aidan pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and fought the urge to tear the written report into shreds.
“Bad evening?”
Aidan snapped his head up and wondered if he was dreaming. Diana stood in the doorway of his study, looking beautiful and nervous. She bit her lip as she watched him, and he realized that rather than greet her like a gentleman, he was staring at her like a starving man.
“Diana, come in.” He stood and ushered her into the room.
She wore a pretty blue evening gown with a bodice that dipped low to display her neck and shoulders to mouthwatering advantage. The fabric was a paler blue than the sapphire richness of her eyes. He wondered what event she’d come from in such formal garb.
“My mother dragged Dom and me to dinner at my uncle’s house.” She nibbled at her lip again. “My father’s brother, Sir William Ashby. I like him well enough but he’s vehemently against any lady in the family doing anything like work. Obviously, he doesn’t approve of me.”
When she finally took a breath, a flush of pink colored her cheeks. She seemed to realize she’d been rambling and ducked her head.
“How did you get away?” Aidan never dreamed it was so easy for unmarried young gentlewomen to escape any kind of chaperone, yet Diana had done it repeatedly since they’d met.
“Oh, I simply left the house and hired a cab. Mama is abed and Dominick ventured out to one of his usual haunts.”
“And you came here.” Aidan approached and indicated the settee. “Would you like to sit?”
“No, I didn’t come to sit.”
He couldn’t hide his smile. “Well, I’m glad you came, whatever the reason. Shall I ring for tea or would you prefer to join me while I partake of something stronger?”
When she didn’t answer, he made his way to a cart near the far bookcase and poured himself two fingers of whiskey. He glanced back at Diana and caught her perusing his body, her gaze finally trailing up to his face.
“I came to tell you that I’m finished with the order for Mr. Repton.”
“That’s wonderful.” A surge of pride bubbled in his chest. “You’re ahead of schedule.” He glanced down at the thumb she’d injured a few days before and marveled at her endless determination and tenacity.
“I still need to do some testing. I have ensured that every model works, but I want to test again and probably once more for good measure before we hand them over to Repton.”
“You know I’m happy to assist you if needed.”
“I know.” She took a step closer to him and then another. “May I?” she asked, staring down at the tumbler in his hands.
“Of course.” Aidan let her take the glass and watched as she sipped.
Her eyes widened and she coughed. “Strong,” she managed on a hoarse whisper.
“Deliciously so,” he said before retrieving the glass and placing his lips precisely where hers had lain against the cut crystal. He swigged down a dram and was tempted to swallow the rest when she reached up for the glass once more.
“Easy,” he told her on a chuckle.
She tipped the tumbler back and swallowed every last drop.
“As soon as I finished the last device, I knew I needed to come tell you. Any success I find with this invention, it wouldn’t have happened without your help.”
“Someone would have invested. Your idea is sound and practical.” He was glad that he’d been the one to help her and proud of what she’d achieved.
“As I told you, I never wanted any other investor. Just you.”
Yes. He was definitely dreaming. That raw desire in Diana’s eyes. He’d seen that in his dreams before. The lady had been coming to him in his dreams since the night he’d met her in Belgravia.
But when she reached for him, one hand braced against the center of his chest, he knew it was real and he didn’t want it to end. Immediately, he clasped his hand over hers. His body hardened even as he marveled at the softness of her skin.
“On the carriage ride here, I told myself I simply wanted to give you the good news. But that was a lie.” She swallowed and stared up at him. “I want more.”
“Tell me what you want, Diana.”
“You.”
She breathed the single syllable once, but it echoed in his ears, sweeter with each reverberation. He was tempted to ask her to say it again.
“I want this night with you,” she said on a husky murmur.
“I—”
Before he could agree, she pressed two fingers to his lips. “I know you’ll tell me about propriety and warn me against ruination.”
Aidan kissed the pads of her fingertips and smiled. When she removed her fingers, he told her, “I fear you give me too much credit. I was only going to agree.” He wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer, praying she could feel through the fabric of her skirt and petticoat just how much he wanted to agree to her request.
“I need you to do something that won’t be easy.” Her gaze turned earnest and intense.
He knew precisely what he wanted to do with her. All the ways he wanted to touch and tempt and worship her. All of it would be easy. Every moment with her was easy. It was part of why she intoxicated him.
“Tell me,” he urged. “Whatever you need, I’ll give you.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I need you to refrain from thinking about the future.”
His breath tangled in his throat. He understood what she was asking and he knew precisely how difficult it would be, if not impossible. But rather than deter her, he nodded. He couldn’t deny her anything. Ever.
“We’ll only have tonight,” she said as she fitted her body against him, then lifted her hands to his shoulders. “Just promise me that for tonight we’ll only think of these hours. Not tomorrow. Not any other moment than here and now.”
He bent his head to kiss her.
She tasted of his whiskey and everything he’d ever wanted. When she moaned against his lips, he felt the echo of it reverberating through his body.
For some reason, she was offering him everything, and God how he wanted it. But a tiny voice in his head warned him to take care.
He knew with utter certainty that he didn’t deserve her, but he desired her with everything he was made of, and he was nothing if not a man who chased after what he wanted with relentless drive.
Still, he had to be sure. Not of his own desires, but of hers. Lifting his head, he asked, “Are you certain?”
“I only had two sips of whiskey. I promise I know what I’m about.” She reached up and slid her fingers through the hair above his forehead, trailing her fingers toward his neck and sending shivers all the way down the backs of his thighs. “I’ve wanted this for a while. Tonight I have no doubts.”
“Good,” he said, and couldn’t manage another breath before taking her mouth. He wasn’t gentlemanly or tender. His body had lit on fire. His mind was a spinning top. She wanted him and she’d come to him, and he refused to waste a single moment.
He kissed her again and again, hungrily, eagerly. She reached up to hold on to his shoulders. He lowered his hands to her backside, and pulled her tighter against where he was aching for her.
“Will you take me upstairs?” she managed on a breathless whisper between kisses.
Good grief, he was a brute. And her innocent and very practical question was precisely why he was dizzy with wanting her.
He had a primal urge to sweep her up into his arms and carry her up to his bedroom, but she’d probably tell him that sprinting side by side was far quicker.
He reached for her hand, and she threaded her fingers between his. The gesture was simple, instinctive, and yet it felt like a gift.
As they started up the stairs, side by side, hips and legs brushing each other’s, fingers entwined, Aidan found he could easily imagine doing this with her every night. He turned and smiled at her.
Her skin was flushed with color, her eyes glassy and eager. “Just this one night,” she whispered.
He nodded. He’d promised not to think of the future, but he couldn’t imagine not wanting more.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The bed was the most elegant, opulent piece of furniture Diana had ever seen.
Slipping out of her family’s house hadn’t given her a moment’s hesitation. Lifting her hand to grip the lion’s-head door knocker on Aidan’s front door had caused her only a moment’s hesitation. Saying she wanted to spend the evening with him was the easiest part of all. It was what she’d wanted for perhaps as long ago as the moment she’d first met him.
But the bed. The bed was the first part of her plan to give her pause.
Not because of its size and opulence, but because it was the intimate spot where he laid his head every night. She’d bid him not to think of the future and yet now it was the only thing she could imagine. Would he sleep here every coming evening and think of this single night they’d shared together?
When he married his noblewoman, would they sleep in this same bed? Would one of her friends marry him and lay her head on these pillows?
“You’re fretting.” Aidan approached her from behind and pressed a warm kiss to the nape of her neck. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Diana leaned back against him. It felt good to let him take her weight. “How long do you have? There’s never just one thought in my head. It’s like a kaleidoscope.”
“You offered tonight. We have until dawn. So tell me all of it.”
He couldn’t see her, but she smiled. How had she found the one
man in England who truly wanted to know about the whirring thoughts in her head?
Maybe some other night. At that moment, the last thing she wanted was to talk. Only when Aidan’s mouth was on hers, when his hands were on her body, did some of the constant noise in her mind stop. Feeling and sensation fought for their place and her loud thoughts quieted.
She needed that. She needed him.
Turning her head to look at him, she asked, “Help me undress?”
He didn’t answer in words but in action. Expert fingers worked the buttons at the back of her gown and he slid the garment gently from her shoulders. Next came her corset.
Diana had no experience of other men, but Aidan worked the laces far faster than her corset unlacer ever could have. It seemed only seconds before she was standing before him in her chemise and stockings.
He cupped her breast through the thin fabric, his long, elegant fingers finding the taut peak of her nipple and rolling it gently beneath his fingertips.
She gasped at the intensity of the sensation.
“Now your clothes,” she told him when he bent to kiss her.
She began with buttons and found there were far too many between his waistcoat, which went quickly, and his shirt, which she stopped and started to unbutton between kisses.
When she finally worked the last button free, she eagerly slid the fabric over his shoulders and gasped.
Feeling his muscles through layers of clothing was nothing like seeing them in the glow of lamplight. She slid her hand along the ridges of his shoulders and arms and chest, tracing every slope and swelling line.
Goodness, he was warm. Though she stood in little more than a thin layer of cotton, the heat radiating off his body like a furnace kept her warm.
He was patient as she explored, only tracing a finger across her cheek or stroking his hand down her back. He watched and waited, and when she’d finished he laced his fingers with hers and led her to the bed.
Diana settled on the edge and he knelt before her. He applied himself to removing her stockings, but turned the task into an opportunity to stroke and kiss every inch of her leg. When she let out a moan, he chuckled, his breath hot against her skin.
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