Page 93 of Affair

He looked up swiftly. Firelight glinted on the lenses of his eyeglasses. “What the devil does that mean?”

“Anthony Tiles has obviously allowed the facts of his birth to set him on a path that is almost certain to destroy him. Thank God, you have carved out a different destiny for yourself.”

“Hmm.”

“Your father knew that you had become a man of integrity. He realized that he could entrust the family fortune and the safety of his younger son to you. He must have been exceedingly proud of you, Baxter.”

Baxter said nothing. He watched her for a long while and then, without a word, he turned away from the fire and dropped down onto the sofa. He kept one booted foot on the floor and angled his other leg across the cushions. Wearily he shoved his fingers through his hair.

“When this business at dawn is behind us, I intend to find that bloody quack who calls himself a magician. I do not like these experiments of his.”

Charlotte closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the chair. “Baxter, you will be careful tomorrow, won’t you?”

“I’m not the one who must face Tiles’s pistol if things do not work out as I have planned.”

“I know you too well to believe that if something goes wrong, you will simply stand back and allow Hamilton’s best friend to be shot down in cold blood.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Promise me that you will not do anything that might cause this Anthony Tiles to turn against you and perhaps challenge you.”

A fleeting trace of amusement hovered at the edge of Baxter’s mouth. “Don’t concern yourself. I vowed years ago never to get myself killed in anything so stupid as a duel.”

“I am pleased to hear that.” She smiled in spite of her uneasy mood. “Poor Baxter. All you asked was to be left alone in your laboratory but you’ve been forced to emerge from it in order to deal with all of these vexing problems.”

He raised his brows. “There are problems and there are problems.”

“What does that mean?”

He put down his unfinished brandy and got to his feet. He went to where she sat in front of the fire and gently drew her up out of the chair. “Some problems are vastly more interesting than others.”

“Am I a problem for you, then, Mr. St. Ives?” she asked softly.

“Yes.” He bent his head and crushed her mouth beneath his own.

Fifteen

His need for her swept through him in a wave. He cradled the back of her head in one hand and kissed first her lips and then her throat.

Would she always have this effect on him? he wondered. One moment his thoughts were focused on the problems of murder and a duel, the next he could think-of nothing but the bone-deep satisfaction of having Charlotte in his arms.

He was slowly growing accustomed to the unsettling effects of passion, Baxter thought, but he was no closer to understanding it tonight than he had been at the start of this affair. The mystery of the thing was as strange and compelling as any alchemist’s quest for the Stone.

“Baxter?” Charlotte grasped the lapels of his coat. “Is there time?”

He raised his head just long enough to lose himself for an instant in the fathomless green promise of her eyes. “Not as much as I would wish.” The truth of his own words struck him in a searing flash of understanding. “Bloody hell, there is never enough time.”

“It’s all right.” She brushed her lips across his chin.

“And there is always the possibility that someone may walk in on us.” He cast a baleful glance around the small study. “What’s more, there is never a bed in the vicinity.”

“Baxter—”

“How the devil is one supposed to conduct a proper affair when one does not even have a bedchamber at one’s disposal?”

She pressed her face into his shirt and began to make soft, muffled sounds. Her shoulders quivered.

Alarmed, he pulled her closer and patted her awkwardly. “Good God, Charlotte, don’t cry. I shall think of something.”

“I’m sure you will. You always do.”

The muffled sounds against his chest grew louder. Her whole body shook beneath his hands. He realized that she was giggling.

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