Light of My Heart

by Elizabeth St. Michel

  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 womancompletely.”

  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 equationtwo 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.
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  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 othersexcept to him.

  Anthony enumerated her assets. How she made light of a situation to defuse tension. Her instinctual sense of peopleLord 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.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bathed a hundred times, brushed, combed and clipped, Rachel’s stray had been cleared of lice, and the two open sores on the legs had healed. Boasting a high glossy brown and white feathered coat, and with doe-like eyes, and a docked tail, wagging to show its pleasure, the dog presented an irresistible companion. Easy to train and loyal to the end, she slept on the floor next to Rachel’s bed. Now with the dog trotting at her heels, Rachel burst through the door of the laboratory.

  “You’re late,” Anthony announced, eyes narrowed. “I’m allergic to dogs.”

  The dog circled twice, flopping on the bed Rachel had made beneath the windowdespite Anthony’s protestations. “You’ve told me a million times. And you are not allergic. You haven’t sneezed once in the past five days.”

  “I walk twenty feet away and can still smell the dog. And how did you get my father wrapped around your finger? Never did I believe he’d allow that beast in the house. It belongs in the kennels.”

  Rachel lifted her nose in the air. “Your father says she will be an excellent guard dog.”

  “I noted when she ran off while we were attacked by the highwaymen. The mutt doesn’t even have a name yet.”

  Rachel tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “She was kicked by a bull of a man if you remember. And I’ve decided to name her Caia Caecilia, calling her Casey for short, because she likes to sleep next to the hearth.”

  “After the Roman Goddess of Fire? Why not, Dimwit, a name she can live up to?”

  Rachel rubbed Casey behind the ears, reassuring the animal. “You are being provocative. Your father says she is a champion and very intelligent.” To demonstrate, Rachel rolled a bottle across the floor. The dog tore across the slippery tiles, sliding and snatching the bottle in her dazzling white teeth.

  “Let it retrieve bones like a normal dog.”

  His disapproval pierced her with the precision of an archer’s arrow. Rachel straightened. Anthony’s real frustration was on the negative results of his experiments. Wasn’t it? She felt herself heat from her toes to the roots of her hair, remembering the way he had touched her in the library and a million times since, finding excuses to steal kisses from her, his breath hot on her ear as he nibbled her lobe. How he shuddered when she ran her hands over his broad shoulders and muscular chest. If he touched her now, she feared she would incinerate, and if he didn’t, she’d die.

  “Casey likes bottles.” Rachel threw a sock doll across the floor to demonstrate. The dog ignored it. Then she rolled a bottle. “Attack.”

  The dog attached her teeth to the bottle and shook her head with a ferocious growl.

  “Useful. Think of all the butterflies and sparrows the beast will take down.”

  “You are too cynical and need to be less critical. This dog will protect us.”

  “That’s after she runs off after an imaginary squirrel.”

  The dog let go of the bottle at Anthony’s feet, dropped to the floor, resting her head on her front paws, and blinked.

  With a grudge, he patted the dog. Rachel smiled. Wars were won by inches.

  She hung up her coat, tied on an apron, and turned, caught Anthony staring at her with rabid intensity, just as he had at the ball when she was wearing her emerald silk, freezing her into place and melting her all at once. Kama Sutra. Oh, my. Was he thinking of those sensual images, too? A crackle of energy passed between them, hot and raw and carnal. With c
ertainty, he had those erotic images branded on his mind.

  Oh, the things he did to her without final consummation, watching her, touching her, kissing her in her most intimate places. To have to bite down on her lip, to muffle her screams. How was it possible? And didn’t she experiment with him too? Delightful, wicked torments, to experience the delicious power she had over him.

  Impossible to stop the constant state of arousal she was in next to him. To sweep the bottles off the counter and demand he take her now. She cleared her throat and looked away.

  A huge bouquet of flowers was set beneath the clock. She inhaled the exotic scents. Lilies, orchids, and bird-of-paradise delivered from the conservatory. A new bouquet greeted her every day since the night in the library. Her stomach fluttered. Anthony was a romantic.

  But this was business now and they had experiments to perform before she returned to Boston, only days away. Her heart dipped at the thought and she shook it aside. “What are we working on today?”

  Following Anthony’s instructions, Rachel soaked flannel discs in an acid solution. She compressed her lips, trying to concentrate. Anthony had conceded to her idea. “Each metal has a certain power, which is different from metal to metal, of setting the electrical fluid to motion.”

  “You are so unlike the young women I know.”

  “Really? Do tell.” Was he courting her? Hadn’t he accepted the dog, brought her flowers from the conservatory, gone on walks when she requested the exercise? Hadn’t he been by her side, attending balls and dinners in between working in the lab? Unpredictable.

  He frowned. “We have work to do, and I’m not about to rain down further compliments on a head that is already full of confidence.”

  “How disappointing. Where is Aunt Margaret?”

  “She was feeling under the weather and bid us good luck on our experiments.” He took out the metal discs, the copper flashing a bright orange in the light. “I like the way you roll up your sleeves and get things done, taking pride in your work. Efficient.”