And he was setting her entire body on fire.
Ada shoved back against him, needing to move, needing him off of her before she begged him to kiss her. “Sweet. Yes, very nice, I’m sure. Now that we’ve been introduced, would you get off me?”
“Promise you won’t run?”
Ada had to consider that for a moment. “All right.”
He sprang to his feet and offered a hand, which she ignored.
Hampered by yards of black serge and a stiff corset, she struggled to her feet with far less grace. When she glanced up after shaking out her skirts, he was studying her as if she were an oddity at the local zoo.
“What?” she snapped.
She supposed the boyish grin that bloomed across his face had sent countless other women swooning. To be strictly truthful, it was rather spectacular. Luckily, she had no inclination to be charmed. Lord knew more than a few had tried. Wealthy widows attracted men like flies to honey.
He shook his head. “I’ve never been bested with a pitcher of tea before.”
“Tea?”
“That stuff you tossed on me. Quite clever.”
His praise made her heart flutter. She did her best to ignore it, but there was no denying those words, delivered in that honeyed voice, with that delightfully deep timber, warmed a place deep in her core that hadn’t been touched in a very long time.
Chapter 3
Ada raised her chin and squared her shoulders, as if she could create some sort of shield to block his magic.
If only she could block out the sight of him.
Now that she could make out details, the rest of him lived up to the promise made by that rich, deep voice. He was tall and broad shouldered. Handsome enough, though she’d never been one to be swayed by a well-formed mouth or a strong chin.
What compelled her, what played havoc with her very heartbeat, was his aura. While his eyes, and the set of his face suggested great intelligence, he moved with an athletic grace born of sheer instinct.
The combination was frighteningly attractive.
She backed away, wrapping her arms around her waist, as if that could protect her from his attractiveness.
He set his hands on his hips and glared down at her. “You’re in danger, but I suspect you know that.”
She shrugged away his concern. “There have been other attempts. Highly amateurish attempts. My stepbrother is a greedy man. He’d love to get his hands on my battery. Fortunately for me, Archie’s lazy and exceedingly inept. He won’t have the money, or the force of will, to hire competent help.”
“Someone else will.” Sweet glared at her as if she herself were a criminal. “Don’t be foolish.”
Ada jerked her chin up. “I am never foolish.”
The eyebrow that rose to his hairline begged to differ.
Oh, how she itched to slap the certainty off of that handsome face.
And he was nothing if not exquisitely put together.
Ada shivered. Not even Harrison had spent that much time pressed against her, and they’d been married a full two years before he died. Even in his prime—which, of course she’d never had occasion to experience—she doubted he’d have seemed so utterly male.
She shook out her skirts. She tugged at the fitted sleeves of her old work dress, then patted her hair back into place. Each movement helped rebuild her shell of quiet competence. The shell that kept her safe from deeper emotions.
With her hair fixed, and her dignity restored she felt back on steady ground. And ready to rid herself of this disturbing entity.
Ada took a step back toward the house. “Thank you, but I have no need of your… services.”
The smallest amount of frustration showed on his face. That, in itself, shook her. He didn’t seem the sort of man to lose the reins on his emotions.
She shivered. Mostly due to the cold night air and the damp that had soaked into the front of her dress. Mostly. “Even disregarding your highly irregular method of gaining my trust, I’m in no need of assistance,” she repeated.
None of which was a lie. She was only days away from turning her device over to the Crown. Once her idiot of a stepbrother realized she’d sold it, her worries would be over.
Sweet ran an hand over his jaw, as if easing the tension there. “I can’t recommend this course of action. There could be others—“
“There have been others.” Silly, incompetent little men frightened off by the mere wave of a handgun. “I’ve handled things this far, and I will continue to do so.”
Why then did she wish he could persuade her? It wasn’t just the memory of his hard, strong body. Well, yes, it was.
She’d never had someone to lean on, literally or figuratively. Curse him for bringing that particular deficit to her attention. She was much happier not knowing, not imagining what a relief it would be like to share her burdens.
He acknowledged her statement with a nod, but he didn’t look pleased about it. “If you insist.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a card, thrusting it toward her.
Careful not to brush against his fingers, she plucked it by the very edge.
“We help people,” he explained, as it was obvious she couldn’t read it in the dark. “Retrieving lost items is my speciality.”
She palmed the card, wishing she could ignore the way his warmth infused the thick paper. “Thank you, but I have nothing in need of finding.”
“Yet.”
Ada raised her eyebrows. “I have things under complete control. I have a plan, Mr. Sweet, a well-considered plan.” She turned her back to him, reaching for the door handle before she could change her mind. “Good bye.”
She wrenched the handle, remembering to shove her hip against the door as she swung it open. With the autumn damp, it stuck in a most annoying manner. She didn’t need his help. Didn’t want the strange, breathless feelings, the shaking legs, the desire—that damned physical desire—she’d ignored for so long.
Didn’t want to know what she’d missed all those years, married to an older man, with an older man’s soft, aging body.
Yet she couldn’t help staring out into the empty yard, eyes straining for one last glimpse of the first well-made man she’d ever touched.
Though the night was so dark even her workshop was barely visible in the back corner of the grounds, she stared out, until she was shivering so hard her teeth chattered. Only then did she drag herself up the stairs in her damp dress, to her lonely bed.
Sometimes the price of being an unconventional woman in a most conventional world seemed far too high.
*
Zinc chloride. That would do it.
Ada bolted upright in bed. She fumbled on the nightstand for the matches to light the lamp. If she didn't jot down her thoughts immediately, they’d be lost by morning.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and scratched out a reminder in the notebook she kept at her bedside for just such occurrences. The smallest amount of zinc chloride should slow corrosion of the anode, making the energy transfer more stable.