Page 22 of A Relentless Rake

“The Royal Society is forward thinking and concerned with building the current empire, not with resurrecting dead ones,” he interrupted, his patience clearly thinning. “What’s so innovative about your brother’s work that would earn him the respect of the Royal Society?”

She gave a soft shake of her head, aware for the first time that her hair was completely undone and shamelessly loose around her shoulders. “I’ll also need shoes for my ball gown.”

“Then lift your skirts.”

“Pardon?” Instead of the squeak she’d anticipated, her voice emerged as a throaty breath.

Amusement pulled at his lips, as if this devil knew the unsettling effect he had on her. Especially his dark eyes. The darkness hid their true color and had her wondering if they were brown or green, blue or hazel… Yet even in the shadows, they possessed an intensity that shivered through her.

“Have to see what kind of slippers to give you.” He repeated in a deep murmur, “Lift your skirts for me, my lady.”

The low command tickled at her inner thighs and stirred a heated ache between them. He hadn’t meant that as a flirtation. She was blackmailing him, for heaven’s sake! But no man had spoken to her in such a voice in years, had looked at her the way he was staring at her now… Not as a respectable lady but as a woman.

He stood so close that she could smell his heady scent of leather and cigars, bergamot and lemons. Sweet heavens, the man smelled oflemons! She couldn’t resist breathing him in.

Nor could she resist clutching the skirts of her robe and night rail and slowly raising them.

He trailed his gaze down her body to her bare calves as she lifted the hems to just above her knees. She froze, except for the rise and fall of her bosom with her rapid, shallow breaths. What she was doing was scandalous, utterly ruinous. Yet she had the inexplicable urge to lift her skirts even higher just to see his reaction, to dare him to flirt with her. Or do even more.

“Satin,” he rasped.

Her breath hitched. “What?”

He gave a shake of his head to dismiss her question…or was it to chase away whatever wicked thoughts were spinning through his mind? God knew enough of them were certainly whirling through hers. “You’ll need satin slippers, I think.”

She let her skirts slip through her fingers and fall back into place. She would have sworn an expression of disappointment darkened what little of his face she could see.

“Arches,” he murmured. “You were telling me about arches.”

“Oh…yes. Arches.” She cleared her suddenly dry throat. “Tension is everything.”

A rakish grin teased at his lips. “I’ve always thought so.”

Drat the devil! Apparently, he was the only man in history who was aroused by Roman arches.

“Tension—that is, downward forces—”Thatwasn’t any better. She was digging herself to China, so she dragged in a deep breath and started over. “The Romans created arches by placing a capstone on the top of the curve, and the downward force—the compression”—she somehow managed not to blush—“kept the arch in place even without mortar. But build too high, and the downward stresses become outward strains that will bring down the arch. That’s why Gothic cathedrals have buttresses, to keep their high walls from collapsing outward. My brother’s work focuses on finding exact mathematical equations to make buttresses unnecessary at great heights and spans never before considered by engineers and architects.”

She was certain her eyes sparkled now with excitement for her work—theirwork. She simply couldn’t help herself.

“Just imagine the possibilities. If builders can harness downward and outward pressures, if they can figure out the proper ratios, then they can build higher, longer, and wider than ever before.” Excitement sparked inside her. “Buildings and bridges without limits.”

She waited, hoping he found the work as thrilling as she did. The wonder of it, the marvel, the ingenuity…all fresh and exhilarating! That excitement had drawn her into mathematics in the first place, and it was faith in new discoveries that kept her going. If Henry took public credit for her calculations, well, that was a small price to pay for helping to advance architecture and engineering.

Yet it wasn’t excitement she saw in her masked man. It was aggravation.

His jaw tightened. “But how would any of your brother’s theories translate into real building plans?”

“Because architecture is mathematics at heart. All good architects are good mathematicians.” She smiled a bit smugly. “Or they know where to hire one.”

“So your brother consults with architects on building plans?”

Unease prickled across her skin at that question. He wanted to know far more about Henry and their work than she felt comfortable divulging. Even for a ball gown. “Sometimes.”

He took a single step toward her to close the distance between them. She pressed her hand against his shoulder to keep him back, but she might have been nothing more than a bothersome gnat for all it did. She swallowed. Or a mouse stalked by a panther.

“Who are you?” she breathed as the heat of his body seeped through his clothes and into her fingertips.

“No one important.”