His expression softened and he moved quickly and dropped beside her. He framed her face with both hands. Warm, soothing hands. “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?” His husky tonality sent a thrilling shiver weaving through her veins, her bones, her body.
Any words to respond fled in the wake of those warm hands. Her eyes clamped shut as desperate need tore through her. No pickax tore through her head. The only pounding was her heart against her ribs akin to running for her life in Berwick Street. Only this time, she was caught with no desire to escape.
As light as a moonbeam on calm waters, his lips misted hers. Her lips parted, but he dared to tease her with anticipation, allure, urgency. His hands cupped her shoulders, and disappointingly, maintained an almost respectable distance. She flattened her hands on his chest. Molded them to the contours of his body.
She went up on her toes and captured his lips, drew his tongue into her mouth.Yes.
His hands slid to her back, pressing her into the hard wall of his chest. Her arms smoothed up and around his neck. Stroke after stroke—his, hers, she couldn’t tell and didn’t care—their tongues danced. To crawl into his skin would not be enough. He breathed the very life into her.
Right there in that moment, she knew she would perish if…
He broke away, groaning. “We must stop,” he said on a harsh exhale.
Geneva covered her mouth with the back of her hand, unable to speak. But of course he was right. If anyone caught them, he would be forced to an unthinkable action—marriage, to her. Worse, she would be run out of Alnmouth,Stonemare, ostracized, accused of attempting to trap a man miles above her in class. She broke the contact and tried pushing from him.
But things took a swift change. He grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. “Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t you dare get it into your head that I regret you kissing me. I wish to ravish you senseless. But not at the risk of someone walking in on us.”
Geneva nodded. It was just as she’d thought.
“I wish to marry you,” he said.
“Yes, yes. I understand—w-what?”
“I want to marry you. And I don’t want anyone questioning my reasons why.”
“But…”
“Don’t you want to marry me? I realize I’m nothing but a wearisome scientist.”
“You are anything but wearisome,” she whispered. “It is I who am unworthy. You are an earl’s brother, while I grew up near the slums in London.”
“You also have friends in high places. Not that I put stock in such things.” He leaned over and brushed her lips again. “I believe we have more to learn of one another, and now we shall have the rest of our lives.”
“Oh, Noah.” Her arms wrapped around his neck, tears blurring her vision. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not giving you back.”
The passion erupted with unparalleled ferocity. Once more, his mouth crashed over hers, his tongue lavishing her with untold secrets. Secrets she only wished to explore with him. She pulled away and tugged at his cravat.
“Yes,” he breathed, stripping it away.
She shoved at his hands and tugged at the few buttons in sight. One flew and pinged against the ceramic tiling before the fire. The need to feel his skin beneath her fingertips overwhelmed her, but in her frustration, he usurped her hands and stripped off his waistcoat. He tugged the shirt from his breeches and whipped it over his head.
A moan escaped her—he caught it with his lips. One large hand covered her breast in a light squeeze, a move that had her gasping and him smiling against her mouth. She pulled away, her eyes meeting his. Eyes that devoured her, with something she’d never experienced in her life: hunger. For her. No doubt of yearning, not with the palpable craving he exuded.
Heat washed through her.
His hand moved from her breast to her hand. He took it and placed it on the bulge of his breeches. “This is what you do to me. I won’t be mending you. Just the opposite.” The husky tone stole beneath her skin. “It’syouwho shall be curing me.”
Her palm burned through the material. The impulse to enwrap her fingers around the forge-fired rod etched itself into her soul. “I—” She swallowed. She feared that boldness, the bane of her existence, would desert her at a most inopportune moment, but she drew in a sharp breath. “I wish to see.”
He smiled with a tenderness that weakened any resolve she could have hoped she possessed. “Of course you do.” He planted a kiss on her lips that trembled with… with, not fear, but… exhilaration. “One moment.” He rose and went to the door, cracked it ajar, and peered out. He shot her a quick, wicked glance, then pushed until it latched and twisted the key in the lock.
“This is quite perilous,” she whispered.
“And exciting.”
“Most exciting.”
He turned her about and made quick work of Abra’s beautiful, blue dress. It sagged and, with haste, her hands splayed across the bodice to hold it in place. Soft but firm lips touched her neck, just under her ear, sending shivers cascading down, swirling and weaving about her spine.
