Saving the Scientist

by Riley Cole

  Once she’d served them both, Edison pulled a folded sheet of newsprint from the inner pocket of his vest. He spread it out on the table and tapped the center column. “Found this while you were… ah…”

  “Preparing for my part.”

  “Exactly.” He cleared his throat. “Look.” He swung the paper around to face her.

  Ada frowned down at the columns of print. It was the advert section. She scanned the notice above his finger.

  The more she read, the harder her teeth clenched.

  Missing woman: Family members seek news of Mrs. Ada Templeton. Last seen headed toward Derbyshire in a hired carriage. Reward offered for any information leading to Mrs. Templeton’s whereabouts. Advertiser available to meet from 4 to 5pm daily at Barton’s theater through the end of the month. Any assistance in this matter would be most gratefully accepted.

  Ada shoved the paper away. “That ballsy bit of goat dung.”

  One dark eyebrow rose skyward as Edison studied her over the rim of his mug.

  Fury propelled her back into her chair. “It’s the height of poor taste. Now he’s setting the dogs on me.”

  She sucked in a breath. “The boy.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You don’t think he figured out—?”

  Edison was shaking his head before she finished. “I doubt he can read, let alone afford a paper. You’ve nothing to fear there.”

  An eager look—the look of a hunter readying for the chase—brightened his gaze. He tapped the paper. “This lot’s the one who should be afraid. Now we know where to find him. And when. Tomorrow by four pm this piece of refuse will be in irons.”

  “Tomorrow?” Ada’s stomach dropped. “Shouldn’t we take a day or two? Construct a plan?”

  She was only just learning to test with this strange new power of hers. The urge to see just how far she could goad Edison—how high she could tease the flame—was almost uncontrollable.

  She knew herself well enough to accept that this fiery new creature wouldn’t last long. She was only one garment change away from the old, sensible, boring Ada Templeton.

  The Ada Templeton who didn’t run hot enough to spark a match, let alone a fire.

  Was it so unforgivable that she wanted to play about a bit in this exciting new world?

  Ada started to run a hand through her hair, but stopped as her fingers tangled in the new, upswept creation the maid, Annabelle, had fashioned. What was wrong with her? Of course they needed to find this pig as quickly as possible.

  Edison seemed unusually preoccupied with stirring his tea.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He was trying to find a way to let her down easily. After his last disastrous utterances, the poor man probably feared an overabundance of tears.

  Loss squeezed her chest, extinguishing the flame of sensual energy. The transformation, it seemed, was coming sooner than she had hoped.

  Nonetheless, she’d learned a few things about herself in the past few hours. She mimicked him, stirring her tea round and round in the mug, watching the liquid swirl. What she would do with this new knowledge remained to be seen.

  Edison cleared his throat, catching her attention. Though the set of his mouth suggested the utmost gravity, his eyes were kind. “I do sincerely regret my early response to your new… role.”

  Ada brushed off his apology. “You covered all of that quite adequately.”

  “Adequately?” He searched her face, his brow creasing in something that might have indicated disappointment. “Your reaction suggested I was far more than adequate.”

  And then she caught it.

  The desire was back.

  His gaze moved from her mouth to the valley between her breasts. Then his lips parted, and she imagined she could feel the heat of his breath on her bare skin. He looked as if he would devour her whole.

  She ached for him to touch her. “You did call me ravishing.”

  “You are ravishing. You are ravishing in that gown. You are ravishing in any gown. You’d be more ravishing in no gown at all.”

  Edison spread his well-made fingers flat on the table, as if taunting her with the possibilities inherent in his touch.

  She couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop staring at those beautiful hands. Her breath came faster, harder, even as the heat coiling deep in her belly pulsed to life.

  Now she was the one about to come undone.

  She could leap straight into those flames. Edison would follow her lead. Second chances might never come. For once in her life, she could do the daring thing. The exciting thing.

  The ruinously thrilling thing.

  Excitement and fear and lust—definitely lust—spurred her on. She had her hand on the door of a tiger’s cage. She could cross the threshold into a whirlwind of adventure, or she could walk away. Stay safe.

  Stay dull.

  That presented no choice at all. No one got two chances to ride the tiger.

  Before fear could restore reason, she acted. Legs trembling, Ada rose from her seat as if some foreign entity controlled her body. She rounded the table plopped down in his lap, winding her arms around his neck.

  Surprise, then delight, then pure desire, played out across his face.

  He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her in for a long, slow, deep kiss.

  Ada moaned and leaned into him, wanting every part of her touching every part of him.

  But when they came up for air, Edison pushed her gently away.

  Lips swollen from his kisses, Ada could only stare. The steady look in his eyes gave nothing away. She looked down, willing the sharp pain in her heart to ease.

  He was trying to let her down gently. She waited for the damning words, unsure whether she’d be able to make it out the door before she burst into tears.

  “You need to be sure about this,” he warned, his voice low and intent.

  Once his words registered, relief rushed through her so quickly her breath rushed out in a huge gust.

  Had she not been bold enough? How could he question her desire?

  And then she realized—gentleman that he was—he was giving her one last chance to reconsider.

  Which she had not the slightest intention of doing.

  Ada smiled at him as she imagined willing, wicked women smiled at their lovers, and pressed her lips to the pulse beating at the side of his neck. “I am absolutely sure, Mr. Sweet. Absolutely positively completely utterly sure,” she said and brought her lips down on his.

  * * *

  Ada opened her mouth to him, putting her heart and soul into the kiss.

  Edison groaned, and deepened the kiss, crushing her closer to his hard, unyielding body.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Her palms grew damp. Everything around her appeared to slide suddenly askew. She shivered as a delicious, almost feverish warmth spread through her.

  If she had not been positive she enjoyed excellent health, she would have thought she was ill.

  Edison chuckled. “I take it we should proceed?”

  Ada slapped his arm. “You daft man, how plain do I need to make it?”

  He caught her chin on his finger, lifting it until their eyes met, then he traced the tip of his finger along the edge of her jaw. “Not plain at all from where I’m sitting.”

  Ada laughed out loud. Actually laughed. A dusty old corner of her brain wondered when she’d last done that.

  His mouth came down on hers, cutting off any further speculation. Once again, she opened to him. He kissed the way he did everything else, with a vigor, a confidence, a sensuality she’d never experienced. His tongue delved into her mouth, wringing a moan from deep in her throat.

  He took a breast in his hand and teased the taut nipple hidden beneath thin layers of batiste and satin. Drawn to his touch as surely as sodium bonded to chlorine, she arched into his hold, pressing her swelling breast into his calloused palm.

  “Sweet blazing hell,” he whispered and touched his lips to her other breast.

  He nuzzled
the pebbled tip through the fabric, wringing an answering curse from her lips.

  Ada stilled. Her senses collided, producing a dazzling chaos. She’d always prided herself on the strength of her nerves. She never suffered from the vapors, never felt faint, never succumbed to light-headiness. But at that moment, she felt utterly dazed.

  His slid a hand beneath her skirts, rucking the blue satin up to the tops of her thighs before cupping her buttocks. Ada dipped her head to kiss the pulse beating at the side of his neck. The catch in his breath emboldened her, filling her with a joyous power.

  An insistent tugging at her waist commanded her attention. Before her befuddled brain could make sense of it, her bustle dropped to the floor, followed quickly by her petticoats.

  Now there was nothing between them but the satin of her skirts and the sheer silk of her stockings. His rigid shaft pressed into her leg, perfectly hard, perfectly ready.

  As was she.

  Ada squirmed against him. She wanted the yards of fabric gone, wanted him naked against her own bare skin.

  Edison roared. He squeezed her buttocks in his large hands and lifted her off her feet. “Careful, luv.” His voice was husky with passion as he set her down on the table top.

  Her skirts billowed about her waist, exposing the tops of her thighs and the heated cleft between to the open air. He was staring at the juncture of her thighs, lust darkening his eyes.

  Even as her cheeks burned, a surge of uncontrollable desire rippled through her like a hot wind, blowing away any last wisps of modesty.

  She pressed her hands into the table top behind her and spread her legs, leaving her womanhood open to his gaze. “I don’t want to be careful,” she said. “I want to be wild, and I want you to be wicked. Very, very wicked.”

  “Lucifer’s teeth,” he whispered, his voice thin with need. “I can be wicked.”

  “Show me.”

  He stepped between her legs, spreading her thighs with his knees, and settled between them until his erection pressed against her damp, pulsing center, his trousers the only barrier between them. Then he hooked a finger in the edge of her neckline and slipped the dress off one shoulder, exposing her thin chemise. He pinned her gaze, his pupils dilating as he slowly—ever so slowly—inched the thin silk down her breast, exposing the rosy tip.

  He thumbed her swollen nipple. “My pleasure.”

  Ada gasped. She wanted… wanted… Her brain, fuzzy with lust, couldn’t seem to form actual words.

  Blessedly, she found she didn’t need to ask.

  Edison stretched out on top of her. He caught her hands, threading his thick fingers through hers and stretching her arms out above her head. All the while his shaft nuzzled the triangle at the top of her thighs, throbbing insistently with its own need.

  “Sweet blazing hell,” she echoed his curse and raised her hips.

  Edison moaned and swept her arms out wider.

  Crockery crashed to the floor, tearing through the fog of desire. Ada stiffened beneath him, and he immediately pushed himself up, taking his heat with him.

  As if waking from a dream, she blinked in the late afternoon light. The kitchen had tall windows and too many entry points. Suddenly shy, Ada shoved her skirts down. “We shouldn’t—”

  Lines scored his forehead as if he were in great pain. “No, we shouldn’t,” he agreed. “Not here.”

  The plain, dusty kitchen morphed into a vision of Cherise’s stage-like bed. Now she understood. Passion shivered through her at the thought of Edison’s naked back reflected overhead as he took her. His shoulder muscles would ripple as he held himself above her. As he thrust into her, the taut power in his hips and legs would be on full display even as he pulsed inside her.

  The erotic power of the scene made her eyes cross.

  Edison eyed her as if she were a succulent roast. “We should retire somewhere more private.”

  “We should indeed. The sooner the better.”

  She pressed a hand to the center of his chest. Beneath his shirt, his heart beat wildly.

  She had done that.

  Somehow, with the aid of Cherise’s transformation, she—Ada Templeton, inveterate bluestocking—had inspired passion in a man like Edison Sweet. Ada pulled the neckline of her dress back up over her shoulders and smiled a secret smile.

  Edison helped her sit up. He tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear. “I’m afraid we’ve ruined Cherise’s handiwork.”

  “I can think of more items we could destroy.” Ada made quick work of his tie, tossing it down with her underskirts.

  Edison’s eyes blazed. He moved to to lift her up off the table, but she cupped his shoulders, stilling him.

  “Save your strength,” she said. “I want you at your full capacity for other activities, Mr. Sweet.”

  Edison laughed. Really laughed. A deep belly laugh that made her heart leap. “No cause for concern,” he said once he’d regained his voice. “You’ll have nothing but my best, my… deepest affection.”

  She gasped at the heat in his double entendre. Playing with fire indeed.

  Grasping her by the hips, he slid her off of the table. Before he let her go, he pulled her hips against him, pressing her belly against his hard shaft.

  A little devil whispered in her ear. She thrust her hips against him and wiggled.

  His fingers bit into her hips, stilling her, while a look of sheer pain crossed his face. “For the love of God, woman, stop.” He stepped away from her. “Not unless you want to be taken right here.”

  If it weren’t for the thought of that errant boy, she would have taken him up on that offer. She’d never performed her wifely duties in anything but the darkest of night, in a proper bed, with no sense of passion whatsoever.

  And life was short. Adventure beckoned.

  Before she could pull him down to the kitchen floor, Edison clasped her hand, and guided her off down the dim hallway. He bypassed the library completely and moved straight on to the front parlor.

  A small sofa, draped in canvas sat beneath bay windows that faced the quiet street.

  “Perfect,” he murmured, but when she looked at his face, she realized he wasn’t talking about the chaise.

  He pulled her into his arms and claimed her mouth. His kiss was hard. Urgent.

  The tips of her breasts, sensitized from his earlier attentions, seemed to pulse against his hard chest, aching for his touch… his lips.

  She only realized her gown had been unfastened when he swept it off her shoulders, sending it to the floor in a vivid blue puddle of satin.

  Hands around her waist, he urged her toward the sofa.

  “Edison!” she protested. “The windows.”

  With a growl of frustration he pulled her up the front stairway. What a sight she must be, clad only in her chemise and corset… and those lovely silk stockings.

  Once at the top, he lurched toward the room he’d taken, while Ada moved toward her own. Their hands parted.

  The light was dimming quickly now, especially on the landing, where the only illumination came from the windows far below in the entryway. His beautiful mouth taut with frustration, Edison reached for her hand. In the late afternoon light, his expression seemed more of a menacing glower. Like some great, powerful beast.

  Ada shivered with delight.

  Her beast. For tonight he was her beast to command.

  She squeezed his fingers. “I give my bed high marks. It’s delightfully soft,” she said, and pulled him toward her room.

  Though the rest of the furniture was draped in canvas, the bed beckoned. The tousled blankets were bunched up at the foot where she’d shoved them.

  The sight of the rumpled bedclothes seemed to send him into a fury. He took her by the arm, twirling her about the room before tossing her backwards on top of the bed.

  She landed on her back. Her legs flailed upwards as she bounced, before settling wide apart, exposing the dark curls shielding her very center.

  Breathless with wanting, she la
ughed.

  Dark eyes blazing, his gaze centered on her parted thighs while he undid the buttons of his shirt collar. He managed two before frustration shattered his patience and he reached behind him to yank the thing off over his head.

  The fabric slid up over his broad shoulders and down his arms, then stopped at the tight cuffs encircling his wrists. His gaze still on her, he tugged. The buttons of his cuffs gave way with a tear that sounded like a match striking.

  Ada eyed the door behind him. Had they locked it? She had a vision of her purse knocked to the floor, the street boy lurking. She jerked her head toward the door. “Did we lock it?”

  “Don’t move,” Edison commanded as he backed toward the doorway. “Not one inch.”

  Legs splayed, Ada watched the muscles in his back work as he turned the key in the lock and shoved the marble-topped dresser in front of it for good measure.

  He was back to the bed quicker than she could have imagined, making fast work of his boots and trousers as he watched her, his gaze moving from the dark curls at the juncture of her thighs to her hard nipples, visible through the thin cotton of her chemise.

  Ada’s thighs trembled, as if his hands were already on her, as if his fingers toying with her nipples, his lips teasing, tasting.

  The thick mattress fought her as she struggled to prop herself up on her elbows. Before she could lever her head and shoulders up, Edison was crouching between her knees, his hard shaft jutting out from the thick curls at the base of his flat stomach.

  Desperate to have him inside her, Ada was barely aware that she was squirming out of her borrowed corset until a soft ripping sound reached her ears. In her haste, she’d knifed a fingernail straight into the thin satin. “Oh my.”

  “We’ll buy her another,” Edison offered, before unfastening her corset with unsettling ease.

  Her chemise disappeared just as quickly, and she lay before him, entirely exposed.

  “You are a wonder.” His deep voice vibrated through the very heart of her, making her believe his words.

  She wanted to touch him, to run her hands over his magnificent muscles, over the flat ridges of his belly and his thick shaft, but before she could reach out, he bent his head to her breasts, drawing each budding tip deep into his mouth, suckling, teasing, nipping, until she had to bite her lip to stifle a scream.