Chapter Thirty-Two
THEIR CARRIAGE SLOWED TO A STOP ON A NEAR-EMPTY STREET; Harriet had no idea what part of town they were in.
Frankly, if asked, she wasn’t sure she could come up with what country they were in.
There were so many thoughts and emotions running through her that, when put together, amounted to a grand sum of nothing.
She could say nothing. Think nothing. Feel nothing.
“Could I perhaps show you something? And before you ask, it’s not my cock or any other sordid idea your newly filthy mind has come up with. It’s the rest of my apology.”
Harriet still couldn’t form words, although when Alexander held out his hand to assist her in getting out of the carriage, she took it. He took them around the vehicle to a simple, unmarked door, produced a key from his pocket, and led them inside.
The sight that awaited Harriet was … nothing. It was pitch-black in the small room, assuming that the room actually was small. Very little light from the outside filtered in.
Alexander shuffled around, knocking into something. “Damn.”
She smiled, as if it broke the spell of her shock. She’d never witnessed Alexander being anything less than graceful.
Finally, a small spark flashed as he lit a lamp. It illuminated only the two of them, but at least they could see in front of them. They were in a small, unadorned vestibule.
“I forgot we’d be here at night. I imagined this all rather differently,” he said sheepishly.
She reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m quite charmed already.”
“Nothing has happened.”
“Not yet,” she said, grinning, “but I can’t wait.”
“What if there were … I don’t know! … a rabid dog behind this door?”
“I hardly think that would make a good apology.” Her excitement was unabated.
He produced another key then and opened the second door, gesturing for her to enter first. The dim light of the lamp showed rows and rows of heavy, complex machinery.
Which was nice, she supposed.
“This,” he said gravely, waving the hand with the key in it, “is yours.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said, smiling kindly, “you bought me a business.” Clearly it meant a lot to him.
Alexander laughed at her guess, and she blushed, which he tried not to find unbearably attractive before remembering that he didn’t have to keep himself from wanting her anymore. At least, he didn’t think so.
“Sort of,” he said, setting the lamp down on a nearby desk. Perhaps the plan hadn’t been as romantic as he’d thought.
“What sort of company is it?” she inquired with false curiosity. She was clearly trying to appease what she believed was his excitement over business ownership.
“It’s a publisher. A book publisher. Specifically, it’s the publisher of a dictionary called Dictionary of Modern Cant and Vulgarities, a book written by a woman I know.”
“I don’t—I didn’t—I don’t understand.”
“Harriet, I’m so sorry I ruined your dictionary, your work.
I kept thinking I’d do anything to take it back, and then I realized I could do precisely that.
What other use have I for the gobs of money I’ve got?
I bought every copy of that damned book I could find and then I bought this publisher, and I thought …
well, I thought we could reissue the dictionary with your name on it too.
I’m not precisely sure how these things work, but I’m sure with enough money we can convince Mr. Dawkins. ”
“How enterprising of you,” she teased. He hoped she was teasing.
Her eyes wandered around the dim room, catching finally on the stacks of books and the piles of periodicals.
He could see the pleasure she was taking in being in such a place, but she was still holding back.
He expected her to be rifling through the volumes, clutching copies to her chest in wonder, pilfering through the pages of unpublished gems.
“If you don’t want it, that’s perfectly all right. I can sell it again.”
She let out a light, easy laugh, and set a gentle hand on his arm. The weight of her touch tore through him.
“It’s … it’s exquisite, Alexander.” His heart pinched at the sound of his name on her tongue. “Truly, thank you.”
“I hope I didn’t overstep. Or give you something else you didn’t want.”
“Something else?”
“Your ring. I’m sorry I didn’t consult you about this. And I’m sorry you didn’t like your ring.” Harriet’s smile fell a bit, then, much to the concern of Alexander. Why had he reminded her of that?
“Oh, I feel horrid. I … Alexander, I loved my ring. It was my favorite thing I’ve ever owned. Until now.”
“You did? Then why?”
“I needed my father to leave to keep my sisters safe, and it was all I had that was worth anything. He pawned it no doubt for gambling funds.”
“Harriet! You could have asked me for money! I would have given you—I would have given you anything. Even if I—” A horrible thought occurred to him.
A frightful, excruciating thought. “You don’t need me for this, Harriet.
It’s in your name. I want you to know that it is not a precondition of this publishing house that you are …
with me. It’s yours. I mean, my name is on some of the contracts, but we can fix that.
The money will be yours. And you needn’t worry that I’ll interfere.
I don’t know the first thing about books—”
But Harriet cut him off with a deep, aching kiss.
Tasting her again was heaven. Beyond heaven.
It was pure bliss. And then Harriet teased his bottom lip with her tongue and bliss cracked into mad, desperate desire.
He backed her up against the nearest wall and reached down to start dragging her skirts up.
Christ, but he couldn’t wait to be inside of her. If she still wanted that. It might make him the greediest man in all of England, but he desperately hoped she still wanted that. Alexander reached down and began undoing his fall.
Suddenly, her hands stopped him.
“Don’t you want to, err … engage … a device?” Harriet asked, unsure of how to phrase such a thing.
“Please, Harriet, just say what you mean, I can’t think right now,” he choked out next to her ear.
“French letters, sponges, I don’t remember the rest. Something to prevent getting with child!
” she said, pulling back and putting a few inches of distance between them.
His face grew serious then, or more serious.
Truly, the man became so sincere when aroused, it was rather comical.
She did her best to suppress the giggle that rose in her throat, suspecting it wouldn’t go over well at this moment.
“I don’t think I made myself clear.”
“Oh dear,” she teased at his severe tone. She couldn’t hold back—she laughed then.
“I’m serious,” he growled, grabbing onto her wrists and pinning them to the walls behind her.
“Yes, quite!” she said, her eyes wide in sarcastic reverence.
“You really must be punished for your poor behavior, you little minx,” he warned.
His thumbs rubbed up and down her wrists where he held them.
“I don’t want a marriage in name. I want a real, full marriage with you.
I want … Harriet, I want children with you.
I don’t care if they become dukes in this cursed line someday. I just want them to be yours.”
The desire to giggle had long since disappeared, replaced with the urge to cry. He searched her face, clearly anxious that he’d said the wrong thing. His grip relaxed and she snaked a hand up to cup his cheek.
“Well, ours,” she corrected.
He kissed her again, tenderly, which was lovely, but it wasn’t going to get them any closer to solving the problem between her legs.
She pushed lightly on his chest, ending the kiss to ask: “Do you think we might fuck now?”
The brazen question cracked him open. He laughed deeply, his eyes crinkling in the corners, something Harriet bet the ladies of London didn’t realize was actually his most attractive feature.
Second most attractive feature.
Still smiling, he nodded, then dipped his head again to return to her mouth, but Harriet stopped him.
“I thought I actually might return to my demonstration that was so rudely interrupted.”
He grinned again, unable to wipe the joy from his face. “I do apologize for that. Rather unkind of me to declare my love.”
“Apology accepted; now sit,” she said, directing him to a wooden chair that looked as if it might not be able to bear his weight, let alone both of theirs. Oh well. It was her publishing house now. If she wanted to break a chair, she could break a chair.
He sat, obediently, apparently unconcerned with the chair’s constitution. She drew up her skirts again and returned to straddling his lap.
“You see, the idea you gave me, about, well, rubbing myself on top of something. It proved quite helpful.”
“Did it now?” he asked, already distracted. He reached between them and started tracing his hands down her sternum and across her cleavage, dipping closer to the edge of her bodice.
“I’ve been practicing quite a bit. I’ve tried all kinds of things. I wanted to make sure I could come without you.”
“I would love to hear every single thing you attempted,” he said, laying kisses across her chest. “In detail.”
“The problem was, however, I couldn’t stop imagining coming with you.
From you.” The filthy words made him come up off his chair, the hard ridge of his cock pressing right against the core of her.
She let out a lusty moan, so glad to have him here, for him to understand just how much she wanted him.
“But I did find it educational,” she said, and he laughed.
Harriet could feel his smile against the skin of her neck.
“You do love learning.”
“One thing I learned about myself, for example, is that I simply love to ride things.” Alexander sat back then and swallowed thickly. He was finally paying full attention to her words.
“You do?”
“Yes,” she replied, grinding herself lewdly against his cock. “In fact, I believe I can reach my peak simply by doing this. Shall I demonstrate?”