“Fancy trappings powered by clock mechanisms. That’s the part I know about—the turning mechanism. I’ve seen a number of the smaller ones operating above clocks and a tabletop model or two”—she sounded wistful—“but I’ve never seen the larger, floor models.”
“How?” It didn’t seem to bother her—that he’d been reduced to monosyllables.
“My husba—” But she did seem to think better of that beginning because she immediately started over. “Mr. Hurwell operated a clock and watch service, you see.”
Recognition snapped. The Time Piece.
That’s why her name had sounded vaguely familiar when they’d been introduced. She’d been married to that? An older, slightly effeminate man who was bland nearly to the point of offense.
Daniel had stopped by the establishment twice, once to ask advice (which was given only grudgingly, even after the proffered coin was swiftly snatched away) and a second time to inquire whether the man would come to Daniel’s residence and look at the broken arm on Uranus. I don’t make house calls, he’d been dourly informed. I’m a watchmaker, Lord Tremayne, not a physician.
Damn. To think he’d been so close to her and had never known what a treasure the disagreeable Hurwell had stashed upstairs.
“My bosom!” Thea suddenly said, startling him away from the shadowy, crowded, ticking emporium he remembered and back to their brightly lit and now swiftly rolling carriage. “It’s not, not this, well…” Her hands waved the air in front of her chest, fingers fluttering incriminatingly toward the creamy expanse of skin above the neckline. Skin he’d admired from the moment he’d seen her. The graceful neck, the beautiful, beckoning area below—luscious skin he should have thought to adorn with a jewel.
Damn him again, why could he not seem to remember the most basic rules around her? Of course he owed her a bauble (after forgetting to outfit the woman, he likely owed her an entire jewelry store), but more than that, he wanted to see a stone he’d picked out, one that shone brilliantly and was cut to perfection, decorating the exquisite creature at his side.
In fact, he’d love to see her wearing jewels he’d ordered made up and nothing else.
But lack of a gemstone-encrusted necklace didn’t appear to be the root of her dismay.
Thea stared at him, guilt in her eyes, a frown on her lips. “It’s a complete deception. These…” She looked straight down and scowled at the gentle swells hinted at by the fitted dress. Then she looked back at him. “They’re fake. Cotton. Padded!”
Mashing her lips together, she ruthlessly clasped her hands and stared off to the side. “Forgive me. I told Madame V ’twas not honest, to counterfeit my charms, but she wouldn’t heed my opinions. Not on this. But there. I’ve told you now.” She shot him a fast glance. “So why do I still feel as though we’ve tricked you? Lied about my form?”
I’ve seen your form, he wanted to tell her. Have you heard a single complaint cross my lips?
Other than her thinness, which was lessening by the day it seemed, he had no objection to anything about her. And yet, she was so obviously worried he might take offense. At something he had no doubt half the women who would be present tonight did as a matter of course.
It was charmingly sweet, Thea’s earnestness. When had anyone so cared about warranting his good opinion?
He gave her a smile meant to reassure.
She still looked unconvinced.
“Thea.” He had to waste time giving thought to his words. Preparing not to wince at the pain. “Know of men, re…spected ones, who enhance their own ana…tomy with filling.”
For a moment he thought he’d have to try again. Then, simultaneously, her gaze dropped to his crotch and her cheeks flamed scarlet.
“You don’t mean—” Lifting her lashes to face him, her blush deepened. “Oh, heavens to hades, you do mean. But you…”
Her arm stretched out between them as though she intended to test whether he did or didn’t. Daniel would have let her. Would’ve been happy to have her hands on his body, but she snatched her arm back on a groan.
“I mean, you don’t. I know you don’t. Not that I would have any complaint if you did, you see, because I have tonight—have padded my bosom as I’ve just admitted. But I know you don’t. Of course you don’t. I’ve seen you up close, remember?”
By the last, her voice squeaked so high, it was a wonder the glass around the lantern didn’t shatter.
Daniel couldn’t help it.
He shoved across the carriage to sit next to her. Taking one gloved hand in his, he promptly placed it atop his non-enhanced masculine attributes.
“No…filling,” he told her, gently curving her fingers around his hardening flesh. “Just you.”
“Me?” The query was a soft sigh.
“Want of you enhances me,” he eked out, hearing the harsh edge in his tone. “’T-tis all I need.”
At the slip, he wanted to curse his blasted mouth. But she obliterated the urge the second she raised her head and meshed their lips.
He felt her smile against his mouth, couldn’t help smiling in return.
He released his loose hold on the back of her hand—she caressed him now without any encouragement—and brought his fingers up to her shoulder, her neck, tilting her head as they jointly deepened the kiss, lips opening, tongues touching.
Like a spectacular display of pyrotechnics, desire exploded through him—
“Here we be, milord!” Roskins called out as the carriage bobbed to a halt. “The King’s Theatre.”
King’s Theatre. The Royal Opera House. Where he had a private box, Daniel thought with supreme satisfaction. Where they could continue the kiss and, if they were both feeling bold, even deepen the intimacy…
“We don’t have to stay,” Thea breathed against his chin as they reluctantly broke apart. “Take me home and—”
“Nay. Show you off. Your new…” Dress. Gown. Attire. Gads, every word had an abhorred letter.
Easier to let it hang, especially when Roskins climbed down and opened the door. Especially when Thea playfully grumped, “If you insist,” then jumped to the ground
