Chapter Fourteen
Verity sighed as the little party broke up, knowing the few hours had been both productive and challenging.
Silas, deeply concerned, was on his way down to the Forge, declaring that he was going to tighten up whatever he could the moment he hit the floor.
Alastair had promised to study the numbers as thoroughly as possible, although promised no immediate answers to the knotty problem they now knew they had.
Lucas and Verity had emerged into the sunshine together.
“Well,” she sighed. “I don’t know what to say or how to collect my thoughts at this point.”
“I can well understand,” replied Lucas. “I’m close to feeling that way myself.”
He extended his arm absently, and she linked hers through it, neither seeming aware of how naturally they’d begun walking together.
“I am at a loss to even think of who might have the knowhow to put together such a convoluted plan. And using your PBIC system, Lucas. It’s just appalling.”
“You don’t need to tell me that, Verity.
I can assure you I’m well aware now of the issues we’re facing.
” He remained silent for a few minutes as they strolled the streets of Arcvale.
“I should say that I am facing, since this revelation is going to require a reworking of the system. I need to put more safeguards in place...perhaps I should...”
His voice tapered off, and Verity glanced at him, knowing that anything she said in reply would be wasted. His mind was off in another plane of numbers and mathematics; one where even someone with as much knowledge as she had, would be completely out of place.
Worried as she was and nursing a growing anger against whoever had dared to play fast and loose with one of Arcvale’s most valuable assets, she still found a measure of delight in walking with this man, arm in arm, sharing their troubles. She knew his mind now, just as he would know hers.
For Verity, it was most unusual, since she’d never met a man who shared her interests and intellect. Alastair, bless him, had seen that in her, but he was more like a long-lost uncle. This was...definitely not that.
Lucas slowed his steps. “Where are we going?”
She couldn’t help a laugh. “Thank God I was here. You might have walked straight off the Bearing Bridge.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Indeed, that’s true. Of course, it’s all your fault.”
“How so?” She shot him an indignant look. “I didn’t create this mess.”
“In all fairness, Verity, neither did I.”
“No, I didn’t mean that...” She sighed. “Look, it’s nearly noon, and we’re two streets from Turningstone House. Come to lunch. I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am, and perhaps we’ll think more clearly after a meal.”
Lucas, whose breakfast had yet to include an omelette, wasn’t about to object. “All right. Thank you, I accept your invitation.”
“I don’t have a mirror-engine, I’m afraid.”
“Not many do. And when you consider the matter, not many would need one, let alone know what to do with it if they acquired one.”
“Hmph.” She thought about that. “You’re right, of course, but for those of us who do know what do with it?
Ahhh. What a delight.” Turning her head, she shot him an amused smile.
“If you are ever wondering about an appropriate gift for me, I’m not impressed with flowers, silk shawls are plentiful, and I’m picky about my fragrances.
But a mirror-engine? That would be...well, I don’t know what it would be, but my gratitude would have no bounds. ”
“Really...” he drawled. “I must make a note of that immediately.”
She blushed. “Turn here.”
For the first time, Verity found herself wondering if her home was.
..acceptable. Her coterie of friends was familiar with Turningstone, so she thought little about it other than it was a relaxing place, and—she hoped—a welcoming one.
But now, with Lucas on her arm, she suddenly experienced a few qualms at the thought of inviting him inside.
“Here we are,” she said cheerfully. “I have a faithful tickerkin to see to my needs. She is astounding...”
The opening door stilled her nervous chatter.
“Welcome home, my Lady.”
Sprocket, gleaming brightly, swung the door wide. She must have given herself a good oil and polish, this morning, thought Verity. Probably a good thing, since now her rear wheels didn’t squeak.
“Thank you, Sprocket. Sir Lucas Ashcombe will be joining me for lunch.”
“Very good, my Lady. It will be ready in less than half an hour, I should say.”
“Excellent,” beamed Verity, as she turned to Lucas. “Let’s go into the parlour, shall we?”
Lucas smiled and followed her.
“This is where I spend a lot of my time,” she began. “It’s nice to be able to work here and be cool in the summer, but quite cosy in the winter...” She sighed. “I’m rambling.”
“Why?” Lucas walked to the window and looked out into the garden.
“Because I’m nervous.”
“Of me?” He shot her an amused glance.
“No, of course not. Well, not really. Oh coggles. I don’t know...”
“Verity. Come here.” He held out his hand.
Obediently she walked to his side and laid her palm against his, letting him intertwine their fingers.
“Your garden is delightful,” he murmured, pulling her close to his side, close enough that she could feel his warmth seeping through their clothing.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I like it.”
“Did you design it?”
She shook her head. “Not really. It’s been like this for several generations. I merely added a few flowers here and there. Roses, of course...”
“And lily of the valley?”
His voice slithered up her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and she sucked in a breath of air at the look on his face. “Lucas...” she whispered.
“Oh Verity,” he muttered. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”
She opened her mouth to answer—and realised there was no answer that mattered. Then she was in his arms, and willingly responding to every touch, every caress, sinking into his kiss with breathless enthusiasm.
He pulled back a little and gazed at her, his eyes half closed, his hands hot against her spine. “Tell Sprocket to hold off on lunch...” he whispered.
Her heart tripped, staggered, and fell. “All right.”
*~~*~~*
She was heat and fire and silk in his arms and had led him to her room without any pretence of modesty, or shock. No, she had made it clear without words that this was what she wanted.
And God, he wanted it too. If he was honest with himself, he’d wanted this since the first moment he’d seen her. Perhaps that was why he’d never settled on a wife in Sectorvale.
The memory of that innocent gaze, from those soft misty grey eyes...he’d dreamed of her a time or two, but the years passed and he never did anything about it.
Now? He could do everything.
Her room was shaded from the sun by a willow that dripped branches across one side of her bow window, and the windows were open just a little, letting in the sun warmed air that smelled of new-mown grass.
“Verity,” he whispered. “Are you sure?” He hoped the answer was yes, because he already had her corset half-unlaced.
She unfastened his cravat and tossed it aside, then slid her hands around his neck, pulling his face to hers. “Does that answer your question?”
He wanted to smile, to laugh aloud, but he’d reached the last hook of her corset, and it fell away, revealing a thin lace shirt. Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it aside. “Now we’re even.”
She laughed softly. Then untied the tapes of her skirt and petticoats, letting them fall to the ground. “Not quite...”
He smiled back, removed his jacket, and unfastened his breeches.
“My boots...” he muttered. “Damn boots...”
To his surprise, she slid from his grasp, pushed him down to sit on the side of the bed, and knelt in front of him, unfastening the buckles around his shins. Then he nearly lost his breath when she pulled his foot up and leaned back, easing his boot free.
The light shone through the lace shirt as she did so, dappling the bare skin beneath, illuminating the pale silk gleam, and the curves of her breasts.
Freed from the corset, the luscious curves pushed at the lace.
There was nothing he wanted more than to rip the delicate stuff away, and feast on what was revealed.
Both his boots were off—must have happened when he was distracted—and she was rising to her feet, her cheeks flushed now, the pulse in her neck fluttering.
He stayed seated, but pulled her close, unfastening her shirt button by button. Slowly, very slowly, he pushed the fabric aside, and gently cupped her breasts, loving the little sighs and gasps she made as he teased her nipples to taut nubs with his fingers.
“Lucas,” she whispered, her eyes closing. “Oh God, Lucas...”
He leaned forward, replacing his fingers with his tongue. Her indrawn breath, more than a gasp, slightly less than a shriek, pleased him enormously, since he was enjoying every minute and wanted to make sure she did as well.
When her hands grabbed his head and pulled him away and back to her mouth, he pushed off her blouse and then pressed against her, skin to skin.
She stilled. “Oooh...yes. Oh yes. You’re...so...”
He never heard the end of that, since she muttered against his mouth, kissing him now with enthusiasm, energy, and desire, all erupting from her at once.
“It’s been so long since I felt a man’s skin against mine,” she whispered, pulling free of the kiss. “I used to like the warmth. Now...now I like the heat, the feel, the hard strength beneath...God, Lucas, I want...”
“Take off your underclothes for me, Verity. I want you naked.”
“I will if you will,” her chin went up.
And there she was. The fiery, give no quarter, woman of iron and steel. And yet there was an enticing dash of shyness as she unfastened her petticoats and slid free of her underdrawers.
He mimicked her movements, ending up in front of her, both of them naked, aroused, on fire.
“Lucas,” she sighed. “Oh Lucas, you’re beautiful.” Her gaze wandered over his body, making him even harder, as if such a thing were possible.
Speechless, he gazed at her. Then he held out his arms. “Come here, Verity. Come to me.”
She simply nodded, walked into his embrace, and tumbled them both onto the bed, skin slithering over skin, arms entangled, rolling and laughing.
Then...the fire burst into flame.
And Lucas Ashcombe, the aloof and mysterious bachelor of Sectorvale, the man with the practical and mathematical mind, left his wits behind and claimed the woman he now knew was his.