“I believe I am fully capable of handling both. Family and business.”
His brow furrowed. “A successful business that will provide a livable income for you and yours.”
“I should certainly hope so. We’re not going into this with the intent of earning meager profits.”
He gave her what might have passed for an uncomfortable smile. “I’m not accustomed to a woman talking about profits.”
“You’d rather she talked about the various entertainments available at clubs.”
“Well, it’s certainly more interesting. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to get some more champagne. Shall I bring you a glass, Miss Garrison?”
She was striving to keep her wits about her. “No, thank you. I’ll have some later.”
Following a nod, he walked off.
“You’d be miserable married to him,” Rook said.
“I think I’d be miserable married to anyone. Men strive to put women in little corners. I don’t properly fit in a corner.”
“No, you’re too adventuresome. You belong out in the world.”
“Adventuresome.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Is that another word for naughty or wanton?”
He chuckled low before sobering. “Regrets?”
She shook her head. “No.” As a matter of fact, she wanted more. She wanted to go someplace dark with a high vaulted ceiling that would echo her screams of pleasure back to her. She wanted to discover if she could do things to him that would make him scream.
“I do appreciate you explaining to him that women can do more than manage a household.”
“Had it recently explained to me, glanced around, and thought, ‘By jove, she’s right. An extraordinary woman can do anything she sets her mind to.’”
“I believe an ordinary woman can do anything she sets her mind to.”
“And that makes her extraordinary.”
“Are we having our first argument?”
“I should hope not.” He jerked his head toward the stage. “You’re going to be the one explaining the machine. That’s the reason you declined the champagne.”
She gave a little nod. “Sam doesn’t truly understand it.”
“Is it that complicated?”
“Not really. He simply has no interest in it.” Or the business, really. For the first time, she wondered if her obsession with keeping the business going was unfair to him. He hadn’t told her exactly what his dream was, but their recent conversation had left her aware that perhaps it had nothing to do with what their father had been trying to build.
A loud clapping caught her attention. Looking to the stage, she hardly recognized Sam. The confidence he projected was so very much unlike him. He liked beingup there, liked being the center of attention, and she wondered if he’d been bothered by all the attentiveness and accolades their father had given her. She couldn’t recall Papa ever taking Sam somewhere. Mama had doted on him, of course, but perhaps she’d been compensating for a parent who didn’t. Maybe that was also why her mother had been so strict with her.
Glancing around, she caught sight of her mother near the stage, her usually harsh features softened by the obvious pride she felt toward her youngest.
“My lords and ladies, welcome.” Sam’s voice projected throughout the room. “You’re here to witness the unveiling of a machine that we believe will change the world of business... and perhaps our personal lives as well. Its potential is without limit. Allow me the honor of introducing to you”—grabbing the blanket, he pulled it off with a flourish, somehow making the covering look as though it was flying—“the writing machine!”
Rook knew he should follow the example of many in the chamber and move nearer to the stage in order to get a better look at what was being offered, but he was unable to tear his gaze from Nora. Her cheeks, her entire face, had taken on a glow that was very similar to what he’d witnessed following each orgasm that ratcheted through her when he’d had his face between her thighs.
What he recognized as mere cold metal gears and levers, she looked upon with wonder and saw something as beautiful as a quiet sunrise, a masterpiece, a work of art. With pride, joy, and happiness rolling off her in waves, she was stunningly beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to be buried inside her, movingwithin her. To share her joy as closely and intimately as possible.
He’d considered sending her flowers, jewelry, gloves, stockings... had even considered calling upon her. But theirs was not a relationship born of courtship. It was born of her curiosity. He wondered how often she might have taken apart and examined the details of what they’d done. As for himself, he’d done it far too many times and been forced to soak in a cold bath until everything shriveled.
He should probably leave, forgo the demonstration. His interest in her was pure lust, and if he couldn’t control that...
