by Affair (lit)
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Amanda Quick
earlier this evening, you would now be able to call me by my first name?"
Her eyes were very green in the lamplght. She smiled as she
put her arms slowly around his neck. "I don't know. Why don't you ask me and we shall see?" "Dance with me, Charlotte." "I would be very pleased to dance with you, Baxter."
This was what he had been waiting,for all evening, he thought. This was what he needed.
He bent his head and took her mouth.
Baxter was conducting some sort of experiment. Charlotte knew it with absolute certainty as soon as his lips touched hers. This kiss was different from the one they had shared in the carriage the other night. Even as he pulled her close against him and tightened his arms around her, she could feel him holding back something of himself
It was as though he thought to observe and control the results of
the embrace. She wondered if he believed that he could regulate his own desire the way he did the flames he used to heat volatile chemicals.
With understanding came a shock of anger. She was not some
curious Mixture to be tested and examined in a laboratory. Charlotte tightened her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. She was suddenly determined to show Baxter that he could not remain an aloof observer of his own passion.
If this was an experiment, she decided, he was as much a part of it as she. "Charlotte." Baxter's mouth moved on hers, tasting, probing,
1@xploring. His hands moved up to cradle her head. He shoved his fingers into her hair, loosening the pins. "Say my name again."
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Amanda Quick
"Baxter." Excitement flowed through her, so bright and hot that she could not believe that he did not feel it also. "Again." He slid his thumbs along the line of her jaw. "Baxter. 11
"Open your mouth for me."
She obeyed. And then gave a soft, muffled gasp of surprise when his teeth sank gently into her lower lip. "I won't hurt you," he whispered. "I know." She clutched at him, inviting him to deepen the kiss.
He sifted his fingers through her hair. Pins pinged on the polished surface of the desk. And then he slid his hands downward, pausing briefly on her bare shoulders.
"You are so soft." He stroked the curve of her throat and moved
his mouth to the place just below her ear. "Everything about you is
smooth and soft."
She flattened her hands on his chest, savoring the feel of the sleek muscles beneath his crisp, white linen shirt. "And everything about you is very strong and very hard."
Baxter lifted his head. He removed his spectacles and set them
down on the desk beside the fallen hairpins.
She looked into his eyes and caught her breath. Without the veil of his eyeglasses the alchemist's fires that burned in his gaze flared more intensely than molten gold. She could see the danger, but the flames fascinated and enthralled her. "I want to feel your breasts in my hands." Baxter tugged gently at the tiny sleeves of her gown.
The bodice fell away, baring her to the waist. She shivered, violently aware of the lamplight that revealed her taut nipples. She ached. It was a delicious, thrilling, unbelievable sensation. She
heard herself cry out softly when Baxter cupped her in his palms. "You're beautiful." His voice was so low and husky that the words were almost inaudible.
He rasped his thumbs across the tips of her swollen breasts. She could not get any air into her lungs. It was only the driving need to
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more of his intoxicating, utterly masculine scent that made
her draw in another deep breath.
A great urgency poured through her. She crushed the fabric of his shirt In her fingers. Her head fell back. "Baxter. This is incredible."
-Yes." He bent his head and took one nipple between his teeth. -oh, my God." Swiftly she untied his cravat and sought the fastenings of his shirt with trembling fingers.
He f-roze. "No."
She ignored him. She got the shirt open and pushed her hands inside.
11 Bloody hell." Baxter did not move. It was as if he awaited a
blow he knew he could not avoid.
She touched him eagerly, savoring the heat and strength of his body. Her fingers moved through the crisp, curling hair of his chest and then she wrapped her arms around him and flattened her palms against his back.
She felt the roughened skin and knew it for what it was. Baxter was badly scarred.
It was her turn to go very still. She raised her head and looked at him. "You've been hurt." "Three years ago." His eyes were grim and unwavering. "Long since healed." "What happened?" "Acid." "Dear God. A laboratory accident?"
His smile was completely lacking in humor. "In a manner of speaki ng. " "I am so sorry. It must have been very painful." "Not anymore. But the scars are unsightly. Give me a moment to Put out the light." He made to step back from her. "There is no need." Slowly, deliberately, she peeled the linen Shirt off his shoulders and dropped it on the carpet. She could see the pale, rough patches of ruined skin scattered across his right
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Amanda Quick
shoulder. She closed her eyes against the pain she knew he must
have experienced. "Charlotte-" "You cannot possibly think that the sight of your injuries would offend me. The only thing that matters is that your wounds have healed."
Very gently she touched one of the acid marks on his shoulder. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed it. Baxter shuddered. She
moved her lips up along his throat to his mouth.
"Charlotte." His arms tightened fiercely around her.
For a moment there was nothing detached or remote about the
embrace. She sensed the banked fires that burned within him. There was a raw, aching sensuality in his kiss that threatened to over-
whelm her.
She gave herself up to the conflagration with an exultant rush of
excitement.
He fitted his hands to her waist, lifted her off her feet, and
kissed her breast.
She gasped when she felt his teeth on her nipple. "Baxter." She clutched at him with a strange sense of desperation.
He carried her toward the sofa. A moment later the room spun on its axis. And then Charlotte felt the cushions beneath her. The skirts of her gown fluttered around her thighs.
Before she could reorient herself, Baxter came down on top of her. He was heavy. Thrillingly so. The weight of his body crushed her deep into the velvet sofa. She could feel the fabric of his breeches against her bare skin above her gartered stockings.
And she could also feel the thickened weight of his aroused manhood. She sucked in her breath.
He raised his head and looked down into her eyes. "I want you." She stared into the glowing crucible of his gaze and was lost in
the spell of desire that swirled around them.
Surely it was impossible for any man, even one with a will as
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strong Xi Baxter's, to look at a woman with such raging need and
still reniain a dispassionate experimenter.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and did not bother to ,onceal her sense of wonder. "I have never known any emotion that was as strong as this."
-yrn glad." He kissed her deeply, hungrily. Sh, felt his hand glide down her leg and slide beneath the skirts of I,(,- gown. He curved his fingers around her calf.
She sank her nails into the rigid muscles of his back and shoulders.
He groaned. His hand moved up the inside of her thigh and then lie was pressing against the damp, throbbing place between her legs. He dipped one finger into her, pushing gently to force his way past the small, tight muscles.
She shivered in reaction to the exotic invasion. "Please." She twisted restlessly, seeking something more. "Do not stop."
He withdrew his fin
ger very slowly and then eased it back into her. At the same time his thumb moved higher, skimming lightly over the firm little nub at the top of her sex.
"Baxter." She could not think. She was awash in sensation. She clung to him, silently demanding an end to the exquisite torment
yet unable to pull away. "Baxter,"
He bent his head to her breast. His finger moved inside her. Instead of pushing deeper into the passage, he pressed upward. Again and again he repeated the caress.
A great tension built within her. She had never known such a coiling, restless, clenching need. She knew intuitively that the sensation could not continue to build. There had to be some release from the ever-mounting pressure.
She clutched at Baxter's shoulders. There had to be a release. She would surely shatter if something did not give. This relentless, driving force could not go on forever.
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Without warning she came undone in a series of deep, convul-
sive shudders.
"Baxter. "
She heard her own scream echo in the study as she fell from an impossibly high cliff.
Baxter held her while she floated down through a liquid aw-wsphere in which he was the only solid object. She knew a dazed sense
of wonder that robbed her of speech.
Gradually she once more became aware of the crackle of'flawes on the hearth and the feel of the sofa cushions beneath her back.
Baxter's weight still rested along the length of her body. When she finally opened her eyes she found him gazing down at her with
glittering intensity. "That was amazing," she whispered. "Quite wonderful."
He smiled and kissed her brow. "Yes, it was." She touched his jaw. "But you did not experience the same
sensation.
"Not this time." He straightened, carefully extricating himself from her tumbled skirts. "But there will be other times." He paused to touch the edge of her mouth with one blunt finger. "At least I hope that will be the case." "Baxter, wait. Where are you going?" "We must talk."
He got to his feet and walked across the room to where his shirt lay on the floor. The firelight flared on the acid scars that marked his back and shoulders. So much pain, Charlotte thought. Thank God the acid had not struck his eyes. He would surely have been blinded.
She watched as he picked up his shirt and shrugged into it with
quick, practiced movements. Leaving it unfastened, he went to the desk, found his spectacles, and shoved them onto his nose.
Without a word he crossed to the hearth to stand in front of the fire. He stood gazing down into the flames.
Alarmed by the change in his mood, Charlotte sat up slowly. She fambled with the bodice of her gown. "Is something wrong?"
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-No." He took a poker from the stand and leaned down to stir "But I would have an understanding between us before the flameswe go any farther down this road."
She stared at him. His dark hair was tousled from where she had raked her fingers through it. The glow of the flames cast fierce shadows on the blunt planes and sharp angles of his forbidding features. She knew again the disturbing sense of wariness that she had felt the first day she met him.
What sort of understanding?" she asked carefully. Will you have an affair with me, Charlotte?" The quiet words were spoken without inflection. Baxter's voice was stripped of all
ernotion.
"An affair?" She suddenly felt so clumsy that she could barely finish fastening the tapes of her gown. "With you?" "It would seem that we are attracted to each other." "Yes, but-" She broke off, not certain what to say. After all, she reminded herself, she had been considering just such a possibility. "In my experience this sort of emotion is not unlike an illusion," Baxter said. "It seems real for a time and then it fades." "I see." She could not deny his claim. Passion alone was not to be trusted. She knew that better than most. She had established a career on the foundation of that simple principle. Only true love could add some element of safety and certainty to the dangerous brew. "You believe that the fires that warm us now will soon burn themselves out." "From my observation of such matters, boredom and ennui
eventually turn the hottest flames to ashes." "Has that been the fate of your past liaisons?" "I'm a chemist, not a poet." Baxter clasped his hands behind his back. "Over time the distinction becomes more pronounced." "I do not understand." "To put it more plainly, women tend to find me somewhat dull "Ice the initial physical attraction has passed."
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"Women find you dull?" That was too much. Anger flared in
Charlotte, temporarily swamping the unhappiness that had been welling up inside her. "How dare you, sir. Do not try to fob me off with that sort of nonsense. If you have no great interest in a lon,-
term connection, then at least have the decency to say so. Do riot expect me to believe that your previous affairs have all ended because you bored your paramours to death."
He glanced at her, startled. "I assure you, it is the simple truth. " "Rubbish." She scrambled off the sofa and shook out her skirts. "You seek to make excuses. I expected better of you, sir."
He swung around to confront her. "I am not making excuses. I
am attempting to be practical." "Indeed." She drew herself up proudly. "And what of your precious reputation, Mr. St. Ives?" "It so happens that this charade of an engagement we have concocted provides us with the perfect cover for an affair."
Charlotte seethed. "This charade, as you call it, was created by you and is designed to last only as long as it takes us to find the
villain who murdered Drusilla Heskett." "There is no reason it cannot continue after we have achieved
our primary goal." "The usual engagement lasts a year, at best."
"I would not presume to estimate the lengths of your previous liaisons, but mine, on average, have lasted about two months or less. "
"That is no great recommendation, sit." "It's the bloody truth. Well?" He narrowed his gaze. "What is
your answer? Are you interested in having an affair with me or not? "
She was trembling, not from passion this time, but from OLt-
rage. She lifted her chin. "Surely you do not expect an lmmed)'Ac response? I shall give you my decision after I have had an opportL'nity to study the matter more closely."
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"Bloody hell.,' Baxter swept out a hand to indicate the sofa. "After what just took place, you tell me that you must give the rnatter f-urther study?"
She smiled coolly. "As I often advise my clients, one must not
make important personal decisions in the heat of passion."
His jaw tightened. Without a word, he started toward her, his booted feet soundless on the carpet.
Charlotte braced herself Pushing Baxter to the edge of his self- control was a risk, albeit not a physical one. She knew deep in her bones that he would never hurt her. But there was a strong element of unpredictability in this situation.
Before she could discover what he intended, one of the floorboards in the hallway outside the study gave out a groan. She froze.
Baxter hatted, too. He glanced at the door and then frowned at Charlotte. "One of your staff?" "No." She whirled around to stare at the closed door of the study. "I told you, my housekeeper is gone for the entire night. It cannot be Ariel. We would have heard your aunt's carriage arrive."
Footsteps thudded in the corridor. Charlotte realized that someone was running down the hall toward the door at the rear of the small town house. "Bloody hell." Baxter launched himself forward. "Stay here." He yanked open the door and raced out into the front hall.
Charlotte picked up a heavy silver candlestick in one hand, grabbed her skirts with the other, and ran after him.
Darkness greeted her. Someone had extinguished the wall sconce that she had lit earlier. The only light was that which spilled from the study.
Foots
teps echoed from the back of the house. Two sets. Baxter's and the Intruder's.
She plunged into the inky depths of the hallway. A cold draft told her that the back door was open. She could see the dim glow of moonlight at the end of the corridor. The intruder ,as already outside. He had fled into the garden.
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She came to a halt in the doorway, straining to see int(o)
the shadows. There was no sign of anyone slinking through th(, bushes.
"Baxter? Where are you?"
There was no response. Panic welled in Charlotte. The housebreaker had no doubt been armed. She had heard no pistol shots but many footpads preferred the silence of the blade. Visions of Baxter wounded, perhaps dying in the vicinity of the rose bushes, impelled her forward into the night.
11 Baxter. Oh, my God, where are you? Speak to me, Baxter." "I thought I told you to wait inside." Baxter materialized out of
the intense darkness. One moment he was not there and the next he was standing directly in front of her. Moonlight glanced off the side of his face and glimmered on his spectacles. "Are you all right?" "Yes." He took her arm and steered her back toward the house.
"But I failed to catch him. He disappeared into the alley behind the garden. He knew his way around. Must have studied the house and planned his escape route before he undertook this night's work. He seemed to know exactly where he was going." "Thank God you did not catch him. He might have had a knife
or a pistol." "Kind of you to be concerned about my health." "There is no call for sarcasm."
"Sorry." He urged her back through the doorway. "I occasionally resort to sarcasm when I have had too much excitement in one
evening.
Charlotte chose to ignore that remark. Baxter had had a near
brush with a villain. He had every right to be in a foul temper. "Good heavens," she whispered as he closed the door. "Some-