“Moira.” He tilted his head to the side. “Why are you so surprised to see me?”
“I was expecting the maid to assist me in dressing.” Heat stole through her as she looked at him. She’d never seen him appear quite so casual in dress during the day. He wore no neck cloth, only a coat unbuttoned over his shirt with the neck open.
He drew nearer until he reached her side. “Perhaps I can assist you with that?”
Her breath caught as he touched the daring neckline of her gown. She glanced down to watch his fingers trail along the curve of her breast, suddenly dizzy with need.
“You are so very beautiful, Moira.”
She tore her gaze from his exploration to look up, wondering at his intent. Did he have any idea what he did to her?
Once again, she could see the heat his gaze. Surely she wasn’t wrong. Lord, she hoped not.
“Thank you.” She eased back in the armless, oversized chair, giving him better access, hoping he wouldn’t walk away.
He moved behind her, and her heart stuttered in disappointment. But his hands gently moved aside her long hair before rubbing her shoulders. The sensual feel of his fingers through the thin linen had her swallowing hard. His touch was anything but relaxing at the moment.
She released a sigh of pleasure, deciding nothing would be gained by her acting coy. She was certain Lucas needed her as much as she needed him, whether he cared to admit it or not.
“That feels lovely,” Moira said as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
The feel of his lips pressing a kiss along her neck made her body heat with desire. His next kiss was lower, then lower still, until he reached the swell of her breast.
Her breath grew faster as heat filled her very center. She kept her eyes closed, loving the feel of him touching her, of his lips on her. His fingers dipped in the low neckline of her gown, capturing her breast.
“Oh.” Her breathy gasp caused him to chuckle.
He rubbed the peak with his thumb. Without warning, the heat of his mouth captured her through the thin fabric where his fingers had been a moment before. Each suckle sent another wave of desire washing through her.
She opened her eyes to see his dark head and caressed his neck, hoping he wouldn’t stop.
“Sweet, Moira,” he muttered. He straightened and moved to lift the chair away from the desk to face him.
“Yes.” She didn’t know what she was agreeing to, for he hadn’t asked her anything, but she wanted him to know, to understand that she was there for him. Only for him.
His gaze took in the sight of her, and she knew her nipples must be visible through the damp gown. He reached down to caress her even as he knelt before her, spreading her knees.
She felt so vulnerable sitting like that, as though revealing all her secrets. Then his lips took hers, hot and plundering, and everything fell away, leaving Lucas. Only Lucas. He lifted her breasts free of the gown, alternately kissing them and her lips until she throbbed with need.
She removed his coat, and he quickly unbuttoned his shirt to toss it aside as well. Her hands roamed over his broad shoulders, marveling at the sculpted muscles there, then down to the expanse of his chest, scars and all, loving the strength of him.
He lifted the skirt of her gown slowly, his gaze holding hers. Ever so gently he continued until the soft fabric piled up around her hips. He looked down at her very center, heating her further.
She watched as he trailed his hand up her thigh until his thumb touched her moist folds, exploring every inch of her.
“Lucas.” Her body jerked in reaction as layer after layer of sensation built.
“Yes.” He repeated the movements, increasing the slickness, until she tipped her head back, passion pulsing through her like a heartbeat. “Let go, Moira. I have you. Let go.”
Again and again he caressed her until her body convulsed. She threw her arms around him, never wanting to let go.
When he stood, breaking her hold, she could’ve wept, wanting to beg him not to go.
When he toed off his boots and unfastened his trousers, kicking them aside, she realized he wasn’t going anywhere. His manhood was taut and with trembling fingers, she touched him, curious as to what he felt like. So hot, so smooth. He shuddered, making her heady with power at the affect her touch had on him.
He removed her gown then lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapped around him, her very center pressed against his warm belly. He sat in the chair with her on his lap, her legs on either side of him.
Shock, desire, and curiosity rolled through her as he carefully adjusted her legs to this new position. He turned his attention to her breasts, now at his eye level. He suckled and caressed them, causing her to shift with desire. He grabbed her hips to force her to hold still as he drew several long breaths.
“I want you so badly,” he muttered. His kiss was hot, his tongue demanding.
At last he eased back and lifted her by her hips to lower her down on him. She gasped at the feeling of tightness, the gasp quickly turning to a moan as he filled her.
He held her there for a long moment, his eye closed, then slowly he eased her up before lowering her again.
Moira smoothed her palms over his muscled shoulders, loving the solid feel of him. Each thrust sent her upward. But she needed more. With her knees on the chair cushion, she set the pace and was rewarded when he moaned. Her movements were far from smooth, not when desire had such a hold. Lucas urged her on with his hands and lips, caressing every inch of her.
Then he used his thumb to stroke her, pressing just hard enough until stars exploded behind her eyes. She felt Lucas join her, his body convulsing with hers. From this position, she could easily wrap her arms around him, holding him tight, prolonging this moment for as long as she could.
He placed his hand on her cheek, his head against hers.
The sweetness of the gesture combined with their intimate physical connection squeezed her heart. How could this not mean the same thing to him that it meant to her? How could she help him to see that he did not need to return to Brazil, that she could help him to live a full, enjoyable life here? With her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Vincent approached the office door of the warehouse where their laboratory was located, pausing when he heard voices. He easily recognized his uncle’s, but the other man speaking didn’t sound familiar.
His uncle was keeping secrets—more secrets than Vincent liked. Money was coming readily based on the fine furniture and clothing his uncle had acquired in the past several days. Not that Vincent saw any of it. His uncle had provided him with a new suit but it wasn’t as if he’d been handed a hundred pounds. In truth, he liked his old one better.
Vincent’s best guess was that Lord Tysdale was the one in his uncle’s office and also the source of the money. His uncle had left to attend “meetings” on more than one occasion of late, leaving Vincent on his own. While Vincent appreciated that, he’d prefer to know what was happening. Now was his chance to do a little snooping.
He leaned closer to try to make out the muffled words through the wooden door.
“How much more do you anticipate needing?” The stranger’s voice held an upper class, crisp edge that immediately set Vincent’s back up. It had to be Tysdale.
“Several thousand more would speed up the process considerably.” His uncle’s rasp was difficult to hear. He must be farther from the door. Vincent shifted closer.
“I’ll have the funds delivered to your account before the end of business tomorrow. We must move quickly if we want to capitalize on the momentum created by my speech.”
“Moving up the schedule creates many difficulties, but it can be done.”
What schedule was his uncle speaking of? To Vincent’s knowledge, the devices were far from ready. His uncle was still perfecting the addition of the gun to direct the electromagnetic waves.
The voices lowered until Vincent couldn’t hear anything so he pressed his ear against the door. Suddenly the knob beneat
h his hand turned. Vincent startled, then took several steps back and masked his features as though he hadn’t heard a thing. He walked forward as though just arriving as the door swung open.
“Oh, hullo,” he said with as innocent an expression as he could manage.
The stranger halted abruptly.
His uncle looked over the man’s shoulder to see what was happening.
“Vincent, I didn’t expect you to return quite so soon.” His uncle stepped around the other man.
“I finished the errand quicker than planned.” He’d been making routine trips to Lord Berkmond’s townhome to check for signs of his return. While he normally loitered outside the place for a time to see if anyone was coming or going that might suggest the lord had arrived, today he’d had the chance to speak with a delivery man.
“I’ll look forward to hearing your report momentarily.” Uncle Grisby gestured toward Vincent. “My nephew has been assisting me with some of the details.”
The tenseness in the man’s features eased a bit as he continued to stare at Vincent. “I see.”
“He’s been invaluable in the work done thus far.”
Vincent couldn’t help but puff out his chest at the compliment. They came far and few from his uncle.
“Family can offer more loyalty than normal hired help,” Tysdale said as he looked Vincent up and down with a disdain Vincent didn’t care for. “Though that’s not always true.”
“We’ve learned that as well, haven’t we, Vincent?” his uncle asked.
Vincent knew his uncle referred to Emma. Her lack of loyalty was a continued thorn in his uncle’s side. Vincent might not have remained with his uncle if a better opportunity had come along, but his uncle didn’t need to know that.
Uncle Grisby saw the man out. Vincent could only shake his head. He was still amazed he’d managed to convince someone else, a lord no less, that his plan had merit. Apparently he was even willing to contribute money to the project.
Vincent waited for his uncle, hoping he’d confirm if the visitor was Tysdale and what this schedule they’d referred to entailed.
“What did you discover, Vincent? I assume something came of your errand since you returned so quickly.”
“I spoke with the man who delivers their produce. He said he overheard the servants talkin’ about how his lordship just arrived.”
“Perfect! That is good news indeed.” Uncle Grisby leaned on his cane as he led the way into the office. “Excellent timing. We must step up our efforts.”
Vincent scowled at his uncle’s back. Surely he would tell him about what he and Tysdale had been speaking.
“That was Lord Tysdale. While he wasn’t a student of mine, his brother was. His ideas of expanding England align perfectly with mine.”
“Oh?” Vincent hoped he sounded interested but not overly so. If he pressed too hard, his uncle would clamp his lips and not speak another word.
“He’s provided additional funds for us to purchase more copper. He might also have a source for meteorites, though I fear he doesn’t truly understand the different types.”
Vincent smirked behind his uncle’s back, feeling quite superior that he knew the difference. “Had to explain it to him, did ye?”
“How he can be so uninformed despite being a graduate of Cambridge is concerning.” He shook his head then turned to face Vincent. “Perhaps enough time has passed that you might make another attempt to take the meteorite from Ashbury.”
Vincent’s pleasure fled. He had no desire to share his experience in Ashbury’s garden. The memories of it gave him the chills. Nothing his uncle could say would make him return there. “I don’t know if he still has it. Could be he gave it to Weston.”
“Whatever the case, we need it. Lunar meteorites are quite rare and we would be remiss in our pledge to the success of our mission if we did not attempt to retrieve it.”
“Damn me,” Vincent muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothin’, sir. Nothin’ at all. I’ll see what I can do.” Vincent sighed, wondering if he could find another meteorite elsewhere. He didn’t receive enough pay to confront ghosts.
*
Lucas strolled with Weston and Ashbury along the docks in London the next morning. “It’s even busier than I remember.”
Ships from the Mediterranean and North Africa were docked alongside English ships. The crowded, narrow streets contained all manner of movement, from carts overloaded with goods to clerks hurrying by clutching papers. Shouts from drivers rang out amidst the clatter of hooves and the rumble of wheels on the cobbled street. The scent of the river mixed with the scents of damp wool, spilled wine and the sweat of men working. A waft of smoke drifted in the air from the chimney where damaged tobacco was burnt.
Already Lucas felt a headache brewing. “How do you stand it?” he asked Ashbury.
“It’s not easy, that’s for certain.” Ashbury slowed to study him closely. “All these people with their auras is enough to set your head spinning. Hope it’s not too much for you.”
Lucas touched his head. “Not yet anyway.”
“You don’t need to remain here if it’s too painful,” Weston said.
Lucas shook his head. “I want to see the kind of places the professor has been using to keep the devices.”
“It’s not much farther ahead. The lads gave me some interesting news upon my return,” Ashbury said.
“Lads?” Lucas asked.
“Ashbury has quite a network of associates,” Weston said with a smile.
Lucas frowned, still not clear what he meant.
“My network consists of boys who know more about the streets than I’ll ever know. I’ve found it helpful to have ears both here at the docks as well as in the East End. If trouble is brewing, one of my lads often catches wind of it.”
“That’s how we learned of the children missing from the orphanages and the workhouses, which led us to the experiments the professor was conducting.” Weston studied the area as though watching for trouble.
“I had several lads keep an eye on our home while we were gone. Seems we had a nighttime visitor.”
“Anyone we know?” Weston asked.
“Simmons. My guess is that he still wants that meteorite.”
“Did he break into your house?” Weston frowned at the thought.
“The boys chased him off with some ghostly sounds. Apparently Simmons is terrified of spirits. Who knew?” Ashbury smiled before turning to Lucas. “Abigail’s father had a rare lunar meteorite in his rock collection. Simmons killed him when he tried to steal it ten years ago.”
“Why does he want it?” Lucas asked.
“This particular type of meteorite is an excellent conductor of electricity,” Weston explained.
“And a needed component for the devices the professor built.”
“If he doesn’t yet have it and Simmons is still trying to take it, that must mean the devices are not working how he’d like.” Lucas shook his head. “I still can’t believe he wants to use electromagnetism to hurt people. Nor can I believe the professor we knew is capable of such a thing.”
“We had the same problem. It took quite a bit of convincing for me to believe that not only did the professor survive, but that he was doing something so terrible.” Weston shared a look with Ashbury. “The evidence continued to pile up until he finally revealed himself to Emma and me at that ball this summer.”
“Here’s one of warehouses he was using,” Ashbury said as he came to a halt before a large brick building with double wooden doors. “Weston and I just missed him as he moved the devices the day before we discovered it.”
“Were you able to contact Lord Tysdale and request a meeting?” Lucas asked after studying the building. “He seems to be our only possible lead at the moment.
“My request has remained unanswered at this point.” Ashbury tested the warehouse door but it was locked. “If he doesn’t respond soon, we’ll arrive on his doorstep uninvited.”
>
“The worry I have is if we assume our movements are being followed, the professor will know we are trying to contact Lord Tysdale,” Weston said.
“You think you’re being followed?” Lucas asked. The idea hadn’t crossed his mind.
“Of that I have no doubt,” Ashbury answered. “Both Weston and I have seen evidence of it. I’m certain your house was being watched before your arrival and continues to be. At the very least, the professor knows you’ve arrived in town.”
“Speaking of which, we need to decide how we’re going to respond if the professor contacts you.”
“Wait.” Lucas held up his hand. “If you believe we’re being followed, does that mean the ladies are as well?”
“Most likely. Abigail was for quite some time though we’ve seen no evidence of late.”
“Same for Emma. Prior to our marriage, she thought she was often being followed, but not since then.”
“Should I be concerned for Moira and the girls?”
“Concerned, yes. Frantic, no.” Weston held Lucas’s gaze. “They will always be accompanied a footman on their outings, will they not? It might be worthwhile to advise the servants to be extra vigilant.”
“I don’t know if he’ll bother to have Moira or the girls watched,” Ashbury said. “Abigail was in danger as the professor knew she had the meteorite. Emma is the professor’s niece. Both of those associations were cause for concern, whereas the professor doesn’t know Moira, nor does she have anything he wants.”
“True, but better to act on the side of caution,” Weston advised. “He’s not above using Moira to reach Berkmond.”
“What else can we do other than meet with Tysdale?” Lucas asked, his frustration mounting. “Surely there is some other action we could take.”
“We are hopeful the professor will reach out to you. He went to much effort to force you to return home. Or perhaps he’ll suggest a meeting with all three of us.”
“I would prefer not to hold a meeting on his terms,” Lucas said. Already it seemed the professor held the advantage.
“As would we. If you come up with a way to find him and force our own meeting, please advise us.” Ashbury’s tone held a bite that spoke of his own irritation.
Secrets 03 - Shattered Secrets Page 18