Saving the Scientist Read online

  Ada’s hips jerked up. “I can’t wait. I can’t wait any longer.”

  Edison lifted his head from her swollen breasts and grinned. “How fortunate.”

  He levered himself atop her, his body scalding every inch as he moved over her.

  Ada spread her legs, welcoming him between her thighs, and sighed. Such power. Such raw, masculine power. Much as she ached to have him inside her, she wanted to savor the anticipation.

  But in the end, the reality was far, far better.

  Propped up on his strong arms, he teased the edge of her ear with his mouth, making her shudder. “Your wish is my command,” he whispered, and with a flick of the hips, he took her.

  The wave of passion that swept over her started at her toes and rolled up her body until she trembled with need. With one more sure thrust, he sent her flying into a thousand shimmering pieces.

  The sensation—heat, then cold, then sweet, bone-melting pleasure—was like nothing she’d ever imagined.

  “You are so very lovely,” Edison whispered before his mouth claimed hers. “I’ve never tasted the like.”

  He thrust harder, deeper, until she imagined he was touching her very heart. She raised her hips to meet him, joining in that ancient rhythm. A last hard, powerful thrust and he pulsed inside her, his entire body shuddering with his own release.

  Even before his shaft stopped pulsing, Edison fell on his side next to her and gathered her—still joined—into his arms. Content to nestle into his hard, warm form, Ada let her mind drift.

  Edison smoothed damp tendrils of hair off of her forehead and kissed her tenderly. “You, Mrs. Templeton, are a puzzle. A delightful, fantastical puzzle.”

  Ada pressed her cheek into his chest. She had no idea what in the world that meant, but from the tone, it sounded like something that pleased him.

  As he had pleased—and astounded—her.

  She splayed her fingers across his flat belly. She’d expected making love to him would be spectacular. She’d expected the passion, the exquisite sensations she’d always imagined went along with bedding a magnificent man like Edison.

  She had not expected the hook now stuck so neatly into her heart.

  Edison’s shoulders heaved as he expelled a great sigh. His body relaxed, the arm thrown across her chest growing heavy as sleep overtook him.

  Ada laid a hand on his firm bicep. She’d known before they made love that sharing Edison’s bed would only make her want more. She’d decided that craving could be managed, when the time came.

  Now she realized she hadn’t taken all the available factors into consideration before plunging ahead. It felt very much like she imagined diving into an icy river would.

  One could prepare one’s self for the first jolt of cold, but it was the unseen currents that held the real danger.

  Chapter 14

  When he awoke, Ada’s arm flung was across him, her palm resting over his heart.

  Sunlight filtered in through the dusty windows, drawing a bright rectangle of light on the faded carpet. He knew it was only his state of mind, but everything seemed sharper. Clearer. Lighter.

  Ada sighed in her sleep and rolled closer. Their legs touched. Her bare breasts pressed into the side of his arm.

  He couldn’t think of a better way to wake. Or could he? He brushed tangled brown locks out of her eyes. Eyelids still heavy with sleep, she blinked up at him.

  The vulnerability in her sweet smile tugged at place suspiciously close to his hardened heart.

  The smile bloomed into a satisfied little grin. “Good morning, Mr. Sweet.”

  He liked it that she didn’t rush to cover herself. She didn’t tense with a new modesty now that the sun had risen above the treetops.

  Perhaps she wouldn’t regret their coupling over much.

  Edison swept another strand of hair off of her cheek. “It is at that, Mrs. Templeton.”

  He cupped one firm breast in his hand and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the budding nipple.

  Her gasp of pleasure made him instantly hard.

  “It is a fine morning,” he repeated, as he continued to tease the pink tip. “Such mornings require certain… procedures, if one is to begin them correctly.”

  “Do tell,” she prompted, in a sweet, breathy tone.

  “With pleasure.” Edison chuckled and levered her over on her back.

  “Edison?” A female voice called up the stairway. “Get up, you lazy goat. We brought scones.”

  “Satan’s arse.” His fingers stilled on her breast. “The family’s here.”

  Mouth open, Ada stared at the door still blocked by the massive chest. “But we locked—”

  “They’re thieves, remember?” Edison threw off the covers and flew out of bed.

  “Of course.” She bolted upright in bed. “My gown!” She stared at him in horror. “My petticoats. The kitchen.”

  Edison squeezed his eyes shut. The swath of destruction they’d left was unmistakable. “I’ll handle it.” He sped up his search for his trousers, tossing aside pillows and shoes and a moss green corset.

  Even while he searched about for his trousers, he noted a distinct weakness in his legs. Ada wouldn’t be the only one feeling the effects of their wild tumbling. Much bedsport and little sleep was going to make him a step slow.

  “I’ll head them off. Come down once you’re ready.” One leg went in easily, but the second required too much balance, too much concentration.

  Swearing loudly, he crashed to the floor. The crystal jars on the vanity shuddered.

  Ada peered at him from beneath the bedclothes. He winced. She was going to think she’d bedded an aging circus animal.

  “Edison? Is everything all right?” Briar called out. “Mrs. Templeton?”

  “Fine,” he yelled through the door. “We are fine. I’ll be right down.”

  Still buttoned from last night, his shirt pulled on easily. The ruined cuffs he rolled back, baring his forearms. His waist coat was… in some unknown location. Best to leave it. He stuffed his shirttails into his trousers.

  Now for the chest of draws still baring the door. He shoved. It moved barely an inch.

  How had it gotten so much heavier since last night?

  Bending low, he threw all of his weight into it. With a scream of protest the dresser gouged its way across the floor planks. But it moved.

  “Take your time,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll keep them occupied.”

  He was halfway down the front stairs when he realized his feet were bare.

  Eyes wide, Briar and Meena were peering up at him from the front hall.

  A shiny steel throwing star glinted in the light coming in from the windows that flanked the imposing front door. Briar lowered it back down to her side. “What were you doing up there? Wrestling bears?”

  Edison winced. He doubted Ada would care for that comparison. “Just moving some furniture.” He chose to ignore the odd looks.

  “We brought breakfast,” Meena said.

  Briar peered up toward the bedrooms. “Where is Mrs. Templeton?”

  “Still sleeping, I expect.”

  “With all that racket?” Briar looked skeptical.

  Brain still muzzy with sleep, and with Ada’s cries of delight still ringing in his ears, thinking in a tactical manner seemed beyond him. Itching to beat them to the kitchen, Edison shifted his weight from foot to foot, ready to fly of the instant the opportunity arose.

  His cousin-in-law filled the doorway to the front parlor, one shoulder propped against the door frame. A swath of blue satin lay just behind Crane’s heel, as if the bright fabric were about to ooze out into the hallway.

  Edison flinched. Damnable gown. He’d completely forgotten… He took care to smooth out his features, to wipe any hint of concern from his face.

  He needed a diversion. He opened his mouth, hoping some plan would come to him as he spoke, but he was too late. Crane had sensed his agitation. Following Edison’s gaze, he glanced down at his feet.


  He swallowed hard, waiting for Crane to make his move.

  Meanwhile, his sister was frowning at his half-dressed state. “You’re all inside out.”

  He was. No wonder his collar was stuffed inside the neck of his shirt. He tried to shrug off the error. “Still muzzy. Tossed and turned most of the night. There are rats. Huge rats, scurrying about.”

  Briar smoothed down his hair with a short, quick gesture. “Looks like you slept in a dust bin. Don’t they have any furniture up there?”

  He ducked away from her fussing hands. “Just anxious to trap this bugger.”

  The instant the words were out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. He was never anxious. The more dangerous the situation, the calmer he felt.

  It was one of his strengths.

  Damned if he wasn’t making a hash of this.

  Across from him, Crane smiled. Edison didn’t like the looks of it one bit. Crane had him by the short pants. And the man evil sense of humor.

  But he was above all, a gentleman. Crane sent him a glance promising to collect payment at a later date and swept the gown back out of sight with the toe of his boot.

  Edison offered the slightest of nods.

  Price accepted.

  * * *

  Relief registered in the way his knees wobbled.

  But he’d forgotten about the kitchen. Edison shouldered past the women as they started to make their way toward the back of the house. “You brought food? I could eat a bear.”

  If he could make it there a step or two ahead of them, he might have time to toss her things into a corner, make them seem like a pile of rags.

  Her bustle and petticoats sprawled between the stove and the sink, far enough back from the doorway that they might not have seen them on their way through.

  Edison kicked at the pile of underthings, sending them skidding up against the cabinets beneath the sink. As Briar and then Meena filled into the room, he backed up, scuffing his heels along the flagstones, crumpling Ada’s unmentionables into a smaller pile behind his legs.

  It would have to do.

  Meena set a basket on the table and pulled back the dishcloths covering the contents.

  The smell of warm brambleberry scones filled the cold room. His stomach twisted with hunger, and his mouth watered. It took all his control not to plunge in with both hands.

  “It’s freezing in here.” Briar chafed her hands up and down her arms. “I’ll heat the water.”

  She crossed in front of him with the kettle, nearly treading on his bare toes as she tried to pass between the stove and the sink. She scoots in next to Edison, giving him an odd look.

  He should by all rights move over, but he wasn’t keen on leaving Ada’s underthings in plain sight.

  Meena was concentrating on the table, setting out the plate of scones and a crock of butter, but Crane had hung back in the doorway, his gaze flitting between the pile of white cloth and Edison’s face.

  Another evil grin.

  Edison’s shoulders sagged. Another payment due.

  A look of understanding passed between them, and Crane did pushed off from the wall. “We men can tidy up,” he said.

  He strode to the corner, brushing Edison to the side, and scooped up the frothy pile of skirts. In a trice, he had the fabric balled into a surprisingly small bundle, which he hauled off toward the butler’s pantry.

  Thank Zeus. Edison pulled out a chair.

  “Good morning,” Ada called out.

  It might have been his imagination, but he thought her tone was deeper, huskier, more sensual, than just yesterday.

  Meena turned toward the doorway. Ada waited just outside the kitchen as if hesitant to enter.

  That was when he realized his attempts to cover up their activities had been for naught.

  Her hair was pulled back in the simplest of buns at the base of her neck. And she’d donned her all-purpose gray walking dress. Somewhere, she’d even conjured up a spare bustle.

  She looked tidy as one could expect.

  Tidy and thoroughly bedded.

  She radiated beauty. Her lips were still full from their kisses, her cheeks sweetly flushed, but it was the sparkle in her eye that gave it away.

  Edison grabbed a scone and eyed his family, relieved that Ada’s transformation seemed not to have registered. Yet.

  “Good morning,” Meena greeted her and slid the plate of scones in Ada’s direction. “You look well.”

  Edison didn’t like the speculative gleam in his cousin’s eye. He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Fogle is well I assume?” he asked about Ada’s grandmother.

  “She’s delightful.” Meena smiled at Ada. “She’s taken quite a shine to our Mr. Hapgood.”

  Ada grinned. “I’d advise him to be on his guard. Grandmama has a certain…preoccupation with handsome fellows.”

  Meena looked between them. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  Edison stared down at his plate. He recognized that look. Meena was on the scent. He cleared his throat. “The advert specified two to three pm,” he reminded them before taking a bite of scone. “That gives us plenty of time to scout the area.”

  “Barton’s Theater, you said?” Meena’s brow furrowed. She propped an elbow on the table and cupped her chin. “Place’ll be empty that time of day.”

  “Not if there’s a rehearsal,” Briar said.

  Crane nodded. “That would help.”

  “I’m hoping not,” Briar says, eyes twinkling. “If the theater’s empty, we can stage our own performance.”

  “Because adding more complications would be eminently helpful.” His sister lived for drama and excitement and unnecessary complications.

  Across from him, Ada took a scone. She split it in half and reached for the butter, but he could tell her attention was on the conversation at hand.

  “We’ll need diversions,” he pointed out. “I’ll run by the office, pick up a few things.”

  Crane nodded. “Take Mrs. Templeton with you. She’ll be helpful. You can pick up Nelly. She came back from Brighton with us.”

  Meena slid the basket of scones in Edison’s direction. “We’ll give the theater a look and meet you back at the office.” She looked around the cold, dusty space. “No reason for you to remain here.”

  Ada eyed him, her mouth a flat line.

  Edison winked, willing her to see he’d find a way—make a way—for them to come together again.

  After they rounded up the steaming pile of refuse who wanted her dead.

  “All right then.” He rose and brushed the crumbs from his trousers. “Better get on with it.”

  Purpose electrified his movements. He had a full belly. Disaster had been averted. And there was a good chance he’d get to punch someone in the face before supper.

  The day was looking up.

  Crane rose as well. “We brought the clarence. Why don’t you and Mrs. Templeton take it? We’ll get by with your hansom. Where did you it, anyway?”

  “It’s on loan,” Edison said. “Should get it back to the driver after this is done.”

  Crane nodded and headed out of the kitchen.

  “Let me help you pack,” Briar said to Ada. “I can gather my brother’s things. No need to subject you to his foul socks.”

  Ada smiled. She shot him a look, a look full of promise. Wicked promise. Then she followed Briar out the door.

  Yes, the day was most assuredly looking up.

  The kitchen returned to its cold quiet. Just he and Meena and half a basket of scones.

  He turned toward the butler’s pantry. “I’ll pack up the battery.”

  “Edison, a moment.” Meena stood behind him, hands clasped behind her back. She had that serious look in her eye, the one that made him feel like a naughty school boy.

  She whipped a hand out from behind her back and dangled a scrap of blue ribbon in front of his nose. “Ada isn’t one of your actresses. Dallying with a woman like Mrs. Templeton could leave a mark.”


  Edison swiped the hair ribbon from her fingers. He conjured up his best roguish grin and shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he lied.

  Meena was right.

  Ada’s vast intelligence and her refreshing lack of reliance on typical female ploys, had hooked him from the start.

  Finding her to be such a responsive and exciting lover only drove the hook in deeper.

  When it came time to part, she’d leave more than a mark.

  Chapter 15

  Ada’s cheek itched terribly, but she didn’t dare scratch the puckered scar Briar had so carefully sculpted. Briar and Meena had assured her the jagged white line running from the corner of her eye to her jawline would make people flinch, preventing them from studying her face too carefully.

  Between the scar, the rags wrapped around her head and the ill-fitting old dress, there was little about her anyone would recognize.

  There was little she recognized.

  Somewhere in the transition from silks and perfume to rags steeped in onions and cabbage and stale sweat, Ada Templeton, scientist and widow had vanished.

  Inside, Ada the woman still reeled from that night of passion. If it weren’t for the soreness in her thighs, she might’ve imagined her time in Edison’s arms.

  She scratched the back of her neck where the rough material of her shift dug into her skin. She recalled every kiss, every touch, every stroke of him inside her.

  She could see his face—intense, yet intriguingly playful—hovering above her as he found his release. The way the gold flecks in his brown eyes sharpened as his own passion overcame was a sight she’d treasure.

  The flashes of memory made her breasts swell, aching for his touch.

  Ada slammed the brush down. What if there was no next time?

  They’d made no promises. No plans.

  Had she been like his other conquests? A convenient tumble?

  He was a passionate man. And she was a widow—a woman society allowed a certain amount of leeway. No reason to think otherwise.