Page 61 of The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh

In the cool of the night, she wasn’t about to be gainsaid. Evenly, she continued, “If you hadn’t been watching—hadn’t cared enough to spend your afternoon loitering in the woods being supremely bored—if you hadn’t been there to see and come racing after me, I wouldn’t have escaped Mayhew. He would have caught up with me and seized me again. Then he would have carted me off and done as he’d said, and the Throgmorton engine would have remained at the Hall and not been presented at the exhibition.”

She drew in a deeper breath and faced him, her gaze steady on his face. “The invention would have failed. You and your investors would have lost your funds. Your reputation would have been severely damaged. William John would have been ruined and any hope he has of becoming an established inventor would have vanished. The household would have been ruined, too—we would have had to sell up. The workshop would be lost, my family as it has been would cease to be, and I…” She focused relentlessly on his shadowed caramel eyes. “I would have been damaged goods. There would have been no future for me, and if William John and I managed to avoid ending destitute, it would only be by the charity of others.”

His jaw tightened as if he was holding back words—a dismissal he knew she wouldn’t accept. Her own expression firming, determined to say all she felt she must, she went on, “So hear me, Rand Cavanaugh, and know that, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for being there when I needed you to be.”

Even as the words fell from her lips, she realized that was, for her, the critical and most fundamental point. He was the first and only man in her life to have shown her such simple yet steadfast loyalty. No matter they’d known each other for mere weeks, she knew beyond question that he would always be there if she needed him, that she could rely on him as she had never been able to rely on any other.

The insight left her feeling both vulnerable and invincible.

Rand looked down at her, into pretty green eyes, silver-pale in the moonlight, his self, his senses, locked on her while he fought to keep back the words he felt he could not yet—did not yet have the right to—say. She and William John and the household at the Hall would never be destitute; he wouldn’t allow it.

Yet while he battled to suppress those words, others—fueled by a source even more powerful—rose to his tongue. “I don’t want your thanks. I don’t want your gratitude.” Even to his ears, the words sounded gravelly and dark. Belatedly, he tried to rein himself—his true inner self—back, but it was too late. Far too late. He held her gaze and succinctly stated, “I just want you.”

Her eyes widened. Then she blinked and tipped her head, regarding him with a frown slowly investing her eyes and her expression.

He suddenly realized she might misconstrue; the possibility horrified, and he hurried to clarify… For a moment, he was lost, then, as if a dam broke, words rushed to his tongue. “That kiss in the woods today—and the one before. In neither case did I kiss you because I intended to seduce you…or rather, I do hope to seduce you, but not in any way to your detriment.” The more rational part of him wondered where the hell he was going with this, yet her expression said she was listening, and the words kept flowing. “I said we should leave dealing with whatever was between us until later—until this business with the engine was over and done with, and we would be free to think of ourselves.” His eyes locked with hers, he shook his head. “This afternoon, when I thought I’d lost you, my world came crashing down. I had thought other things”—his wave encompassed the world beyond the lawn—“were more important—or, at least, equally important—but in that, I was wrong. This afternoon taught me exactly how wrong.”

All of him—all he was, every last particle of his being—was focused on her. Blindly, he reached for her hands, gathered her fingers in his, and gently squeezed. “Regardless of the brevity of our acquaintance, something in me knew you for what you were in the first instant I saw you. You are the most critical thing—far and away the most important thing—to me. To my life, to my future—to the future I want to have.”

His eyes on hers, he raised one of her hands to his lips and brushed a soft kiss to the backs of her fingers. “I want you. I want you to be mine—to be my wife. I want you to share your life with me and become the lynchpin of mine.” He lowered her hand, but continued to hold her gaze as he softly said, “After this afternoon, that’s what I want. You.”

Felicia had stopped breathing; as the last word sank into her soul and resonated there, she dragged in a shallow, shaky breath and tightened her grip on his fingers. Holding fast to that anchor, holding hard to his gaze, she gathered her courage. Sincerity and honesty were the strengths behind his words; standing before him in the moonlight, she wanted to—felt compelled to—give him the same. “No simple phrase can carry enough meaning to respond to that.” Her heart thudded in her chest, its cadence a compulsion all its own. “You arriving at the Hall, you being the man you are, was the catalyst that opened my eyes on so many levels. Because of you, I found my talent for helping with inventions and, finally, gained some understanding of my father and William John. Because of you, I’ve lifted my head and seen that my life’s horizons are much broader than I’d known. But most importantly, you and your regard have brought me to see the possibility of a different type of partnership.”

She paused, her eyes steady on his as, in her mind, she looked back over the last days. “I didn’t know how you felt—that you felt this way about me—but you had already said enough to make me consider, to make me think about how I felt about you. And yes, this afternoon brought a revelation for me as well. When I realized what Mayhew intended and how his plans would inevitably affect me and the future I wanted…in that moment, just how desperately I wanted that future struck home.”

Again, she paused, needing to ensure that her next words carried the full weight of her own sincerity, her own honesty. “The events of the afternoon rendered in stark clarity what I need to make me whole—to give me the chance to live my life, to live a full and rounded life, to the very best of my abilities.”

He shifted fractionally closer; his fingers gripped hers more tightly. The intensity of his focus on her never wavered. “And what is that thing you need to make you whole?”

She let her lips curve, let her eyes light with the emotion behind her answer. “You.”

His smile bloomed, then she was in his arms. She moved into his embrace as his arms closed about her. She tipped up her head as he lowered his, and his lips found hers.

Anticipation and promise—both were equally vibrant in that kiss. Equally heady.

His lips moved on hers, tantalizing and tempting. She kissed him back, following his lead, wanting, needing, hungry for more.

The kiss drew out, sensations stretching and spinning—an unspoken vow in the silvery night.

She broke for just a second to murmur against his lips, “I want you. I need you.” She gripped his lapels for emphasis.

He feathered kisses over her jaw and cheeks. “Not half as much as I need and want you.”

Their lips met again, fused again. This time, it was he who drew back, just a fraction, to say, “You called this a different partnership. That’s what I want, too. I want a marriage of minds as well as bodies.”

She looked up at him and wouldn’t have been surprised if he saw stars in her eyes. “Sharing inventions as well as a family?”

“Precisely.” He held her gaze for several seconds—as if committing to that and reading her corresponding acceptance—then he bent his head and their lips met again, and this time, metaphorically, he took her hand and drew her into the dance.

Into the swirling whirl of their desires, into the heat of their rising passions.

His lips turned demanding, commanding, and, eager to learn what more lay in store, she parted her lips, and he plunged into her mouth and explored.

He kissed her deeply, in patent relief and with a passion their words had freed from all restraint.

Gladly, exuberantly, she followed him into the burgeoning flames, returning each caress with equal fervor. For long moments, they communed in the dark, exploring and learning, clinging to each other as their senses waltzed and their wits fell away.

With deliberate focus, she set her senses free—let them soar.