Besides, they’d had a witness.
He did have to wonder what his face might have revealed for their guide to allow them to come up here alone.
When she had turned to him, risen up, he’d lowered the drawbridge to welcome her as he never had for any other woman who had passed through his life. He’d never be able to look at the Tower again without thinking of her. Whenever he heard the tolling of midnight, he’d remember her sweet flavor, her eagerness, her boldness. He’d recall the quick flash of disappointment that had raced across her face like lightning before she squared her shoulders, because everything tonight was for looking at, not touching.
Except for him. He was there for touching, as much as she wanted.
She was correct. There was magic to be found here, with her in his arms, his hands cupping her face while striving to protect her ears as the gears, pistons, and pulleys that so fascinated her ticked away the minutes.
Suddenly, the last gong hung on the air, rolling into silence until all he heard were her moans and sighs. Tenderly, reluctantly, he ended the kiss and drew back. “We have someone waiting for us.”
“Do you think he’ll guess what we’ve been up to?”
“Does it matter?”
Slowly, she shook her head. He entwined his fingers with hers. “Come on, then. We have a lot of steps to traverse back down to the ground.”
“Each one coming up was worth it.”
He knew she was no doubt referring to the fact that they’d led her to the various mechanizations she’d seen but found himself hoping she was including the time spent with him.
His carriage had been waiting for them. Of course it had. This man seemed to have the ability to command anything he wanted be done. As a viscount, he was formidable. How much more so would he be once he was an earl, once he sat in the House of Lords?
He would need a wife who was always at his side, providing her support, hosting his dinners, balls, soirees, doing what she could to help him secure votes for any laws he wanted to pass. Why was she even bothering to think about the kind of woman he would fancy?
Why was she experiencing sorrow with the realization it wouldn’t be her?
Their time together was simply born of... well, she wasn’t quite sure what it was born of. Perhaps it was driven by lust, a desire to kiss, or a need to explore, sensations that he seemed keen on ensuring she had a chance to experience.
“I hope you didn’t take offense at my kissing you earlier,” she said.
In spite of the shadows within the conveyance, she saw his smile. “No man is going to take offense at being kissed. It’s the animalistic aspect of our natures to mate. How women manage to control their baserinstincts is a testament to your gender’s inner strength. Besides, you may have noticed that I met you halfway.”
“I did note your enthusiasm.”
“I’d been dying to kiss you since the pendulum. I don’t think you have any idea how a new discovery lights up your face.” As though embarrassed by his confession, he looked out the window.
“You gave no hint that’s what you wanted.”
His attention came back to her. “Last night, I had to promise not to touch you in order to get you into my carriage. I assume I’ve not been released from that vow.”
Now it was her turn to gaze out the window. She wondered precisely what would happen if she released him from it. She remembered that morning at the Elysium when the young maid had assured her that nothing other than a kiss had transpired because she was done up all nice and tight. She supposed she’d arrive at the hotel not quite so done up.
“You’d mentioned there is more that happens on the other side of a kiss—” Although he sat across from her, she was keenly aware of his going still, had the impression he was barely breathing. She forced herself to look in his direction. “How long does it take for it all to transpire?”
He remained quiet as though deciphering the workings of a complicated machine or measuring the weight of his words. “Depends on what ‘for it all’ entails. Could occupy you for a few minutes. Could require several hours.”
His voice had been neutral, no inflection whatsoever. He could have been explaining how to knot a neckcloth.
“Hours?” She hadn’t expected it to come out on acroak, but her mouth had gone dry as she’d tried to envision what hourswouldentail.
“It’s not like a machine, where everything has to follow a pattern, nothing varying from the repetition. There’s no step one, step two, step three. Rather it’s chaotic. Depending on the couple, their desires, their needs. Their passion. It can be slow or frenzied. Quick or... takehours.”
He used that word again, and she wondered if it was his preferred way to go. “It sounds incredibly disordered. I don’t know if I’d like that.”
“With the right partner, you’d enjoy it. Immensely.”
His tone held no doubt, made it difficult to breathe. “You’ve made no untoward advances.”
