by Coleen Kwan
“Oh, I don’t know.” She rearranged the folds of her skirt as she chose her words carefully. “Perhaps you were working on your millennium machine. Perhaps it’s not the abject failure you make it out to be.”
He clicked his heels together. “The tone of your voice suggests you think I’m hiding something.”
“Well, are you?”
“You don’t believe me?” His frown deepened. “After everything we’ve been through?”
She’d nursed her suspicions for several weeks, and now she had to voice them.
“Asher, I’m not your average woman. I’ve been around my father’s workshop long enough to recognize things, and I’ve spent considerable time watching you work too. I have eyes. When I was in your workshop in London, I noticed several items. Like boxes of promethium magnets and barium coils and electromagnetic gauges. I wondered why you would still have so many supplies.”
He jutted his jaw. “I’m an inventor. Am I not allowed a few simple ingredients?”
“So you still insist you don’t possess a genuine millennium machine?”
He stared at her for a long time. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour, sounding unusually loud in the sudden silence. Rubbing his upper lip, he contemplated the fire burning in the grate. Eventually he turned to face her, tall and sober and just a trifle menacing.
“If I possessed a working millennium machine, I would be extremely apprehensive of advertising the fact. Such an invention would attract a lot of attention, some of it good, most of it bad. We’ve already witnessed how bad it could be. If I had this invention, I would want as few people to know as possible. I would be afraid of it falling into the wrong hands. I wouldn’t want to tell friends or family for fear of that knowledge being used against them. If I had this machine, I would keep its existence secret from everyone.” He paused, allowing his words to sink into the silence. “Do you understand?”
She gulped. The implications of everything he’d told her pressed down on her. She’d asked some meddlesome questions, and the answers weren’t at all welcome. Well done, Miss Busybody.
“Perfectly,” she muttered.
She had no right to pry into his private affairs. Still, a part of her was gladdened to know Asher had achieved something no one else in history had. He was unique and talented, and he had a brilliant future ahead of him.
He exhaled slowly and began to walk toward her. “You have that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“A look that says you’re conflicted. You can’t make up your mind whether to be annoyed or pleased by me.”
She bristled at his needling. “I suppose it’s a common condition around a man like you.”
He cleared his throat and hooked his fingers around the lapels of his frock coat. “Minerva, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”
The whitening of his knuckles hinted at the tension in him and made her own lungs constrict. “Oh?”
He rocked back and forth on his heels, the firelight dancing on his polished calfskin boots. “Er, something of a very personal nature.”
Not a drop of air could enter her lungs. All she could do was nod.
“Well, I, um—” He took a deep breath, and then without warning, he dropped to one knee and seized both her hands. “Will you marry me, Minerva?”
She remained frozen while the blood thudded in her veins and her head spun. Secretly she’d been hoping for something from him, but this?
“Speak to me, Minerva. Why do you look so astounded?”
She scraped her tongue across the dry roof of her mouth. “Is it any wonder, when you blurt out something like this without any warning?”
“No warning? My dear girl, did I not give full warning the last time I was here?”
She frowned at him. “Why do you want to marry me?”
“Why?” Blank astonishment came over him before his eyes melted and his voice dropped to a low, impassioned tone. “Isn’t it obvious? I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, not for one minute. I cannot imagine loving any other woman.”
His tenderness ambushed her, brought tears to her eyes. After all that he’d endured, she didn’t expect such poignant frankness from him.
“Oh, Asher.” Tears blurred her vision as she clung to his hands. How long had she dreamed of hearing these words? No, she’d long ago given up on that dream.
He put an arm around her, folding her into his chest. For months—no, years—she’d no one to rely on but herself. She’d built up an inner core of resilience, and she didn’t require anyone’s support. Yet Asher’s strength beguiled her and scaled her defenses. She leaned her cheek against his waistcoat, relishing his warmth and vigor.
“My sweet Minerva.”
He tilted up her chin, pressed his mouth against hers. His kiss sent a fire racing through her veins, a hungry, consuming fire. She leaned up and returned his kiss. The passion that had lain dormant these past weeks flared up stronger than ever. She curled her fingers through his hair, marveling at its silky thickness. He pulled the pins from her hair and unraveled her tresses, combing them over her shoulders. As he devoured her mouth, his hands roamed over the worn cotton of her dress, shaping the curve of her hips, stroking her thighs, moving higher to slide over her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat as his broad hand possessed her breast and squeezed and stroked until her nipple hardened even through her layers of clothing, and then, still not satisfied, he continued to graze his palm this way and that across her sensitized nub until she was half-mad and panting with lust.
But though her body and mind were rapidly disintegrating, still a tiny rational part throbbed uncomfortably. Four weeks ago, she’d been ready and eager to give herself to him in the hackney carriage, and she would have done so without a smidgeon of regret. The time had been right, then. Saved from the clutches of Monk’s henchmen and knowing her father was alive, she’d been filled with frenzy and ecstasy, her leaping emotions firing her recklessness. But that moment of wild abandon had passed. Now she knew very well what it would signal if she allowed Asher to continue making love to her.
She yearned to be his lover, but was she ready to be his wife?
Rationality seeped through like an autumn mist, slowing her rearing urges. She captured his caressing hand and stilled it. “No.”
His face was flushed, his breathing hard. Slowly he withdrew his hand. “Forgive me, my darling. I forgot myself. Of course, this time we will wait—” he sat upright and attempted to straighten his cravat, “—until our wedding night.”
“No.” The word rasped against her throat like a rasp.
“No? I don’t understand.”
It took all her strength to withdraw from his embrace. She stood up and began to neaten her dress, her fingers numb and shaking. “I’m sorry, Asher, but I can’t marry you.”
“What!” His shocked dismay was painful to witness. “Whyever not? Are you…are you not in love with me?”
“I am in love with you. I’ve always loved you. That’s what makes this all the more agonizing.”
He pulled to his feet and yanked at his rumpled waistcoat. “You make no sense. If you love me, then why on earth won’t you marry me?”
She pinched her lips, dreading he wouldn’t understand her. “Because I’m not ready to marry you.”
“You were ready enough five years ago.”
“Circumstances are different now.” She laced and unlaced her fingers, unable to find the calm she desperately needed. “I have my father to take care of, and this household.”
“And how do you intend doing that without any source of income?”
“I’ve taken your advice, Asher. I’m going to set up my own business, making artificial limbs. I’ve spoken to Dr. Shelley at the infirmary, and he’s already recommended me to several of his patients. M
y workshop upstairs is all set up.”
“That’s very commendable, but you can still do all that once we’re married. I won’t be some primitive kind of husband who wants to tie you to the hearth.”
“But I want to be an independent woman. Don’t you see?” She faced him square on, desperate to make him see her point of view. “All my life I’ve been subject to other people’s whims, and if I married you now, I would just be repeating the same pattern.”
He made a disgusted snort. “You make it sound as if marriage to me were some form of slavery. I’m not a savage. All I want is to love and cherish you, not subjugate you.”
“I know that.” She moistened her lips, despair and love and melancholy swirling through her. She hated hurting Asher, but it seemed she couldn’t avoid it. “And I would like nothing more than to be your wife and to share your life. But I must do so on my own terms. I want to enter our marriage knowing I’m not beholden to you, that I do so wholly of my own free will. Please, Asher, can you not see that?”
He wheeled on her, his face stony and furious. “And what the devil do you propose I do while you search for these personal terms of yours? Am I supposed to wait in London, pining for you? Because I warn you, I’m not good at waiting or pining.”
She gulped. “Just because we aren’t married doesn’t mean we…we can’t still be…intimate.”
Crimson flooded her cheeks as he gaped at her. “You’re suggesting we become lovers?”
His jagged tone made her flush more furiously. She licked her lips again. “I—I don’t see why not, so long as we are discreet…”
He glowered at her, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Poppycock!” he burst out. His eyes burned with a blistering fury. “I’ll not have you turn this relationship into a grubby, sordid, hole-in-the-corner affair. I won’t let you trifle with my feelings.” His voice rose to a towering crescendo as he thundered, “You will be my wife or nothing at all.”
She fell back, seared by his outburst. An icy inevitability swept over her. It crushed her to do so, but she could see no way out.
“Please, Asher. I cannot be your wife, not yet.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists, his face darkening and hardening as the fire in his eyes gradually died. “Very well,” he snapped. “Nothing it is, then.” He grabbed his top hat and jammed it onto his head.
A horrible trembling took hold of her legs. “Don’t leave. Please.”
Ignoring her pleading, he pulled on his gloves with vicious jerks. “Good day to you, Miss Lambkin. I won’t trouble you ever again.”
“Asher!”
Without a backward glance, he stalked out of the room. She stumbled a few steps after him before she collapsed onto the settee with a muffled sob.
Asher was gone. He was lost to her forever. And all because of her stupid wish for independence. She sniffed and wiped her wet cheeks. No, it wasn’t a stupid wish. She did need to find her own life. All her life she’d been too passive, too accepting of what fate dealt her. But now she wanted to change. She needed to become her own person, to make her decisions, good or bad, and live with them. She needed to be Asher’s equal.
Why couldn’t he see that? Why did he have to be so obstinate about having things his way? Couldn’t he realize how much she was hurting? She fumbled for her handkerchief as another paroxysm of sobs assailed her.
The door to the parlor crashed open. She paused in midsob.
“Asher?”
He stormed into the room, his hair disordered, his cravat flying, his eyes wild, his chest heaving as though he’d run a mile.
“Minerva…” He stopped short, seemingly overcome by the sight of her. “By God, I never thought…”
Involuntarily she started toward him in alarm. “What is—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he dashed across, swooped her into his arms and crushed her to his chest, squashing the air from her lungs. He pressed his cheek against hers, his skin cold from the outdoors and slightly stubbled. His frock coat was unbuttoned, his silk waistcoat crushed, and he’d lost his gloves. She stared at him, stupefied.
“Asher? Is it really you?”
“Of course. Who else?” He set her down on her feet, his expression still agitated. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already?”
“No, indeed…” She laughed shakily. Of course it was Asher. Her eyes didn’t deceive her, but how different he seemed, the towering cold rage swept away by tumultuous warmth. “But what’s come over you? Just a few minutes ago you stalked out of this house vowing never to see me again.”
He tugged at his collar, pulling it askew. “Ah, well, you know what a stiff-necked fellow I can be, but a man is measured by his willingness to admit his mistakes. I’d not walked half a furlong before I realized the colossal error I’d made and came haring back to rectify it.” His eyes glittered with a curious fever. “Minerva, I was the damndest fool to let you go even for five minutes, and I detest fools. Will you give me a chance to put things right?”
Her heart thumped madly. How ardent he was! The passion in his face was enough to melt stone. Yet still, the complete turnaround in his attitude beggared belief. She swallowed and said cautiously, “Do you mean you agree with my need to forge my own independence?”
“I have never objected to your need for self-reliance.” He gave a sweeping wave. “Pursue your independence, my sweet, but remember, I’ll always be here for you, waiting.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Always?”
“Yes! I’ll wait for you until you’re ready to be my wife.” He brushed his fingers across her cheeks and lips, his touch almost reverential, as if he could scarcely believe he was holding her. His eyes burned with feeling. “Ah, Minerva. If need be, I would wait for you forever.”
She could not help but be thrilled by his words and caresses. His abrupt volte-face still flustered her, but how could she complain? Asher had come back to her. He loved her. He understood her needs, and he would wait for her. Forever, he’d said.
Well, she couldn’t argue with that.
Her soul started to brim as she circled her arms around his neck, and when she stood on tiptoe, she was overflowing with exhilaration.
“Forever is a long time,” she whispered against his lips. “I promise I won’t make you wait that long.”
* * * * *
We hope you enjoyed Asher’s Invention. Looking for your next great read? Download When Harriet Came Home, also by Coleen Kwan. Available wherever ebooks are sold!
When Harriet Came Home
After ten years of exile, Harriet Brown is back in town. Now the confident owner of a catering business, she’s no longer the shy, overweight girl everyone—including her hot teenage crush—used to ignore. She’s determined to make peace with Adam Blackstone for her part in exposing his father’s corrupt behavior as mayor. As Harriet struggles to come to terms with her past, her adolescent infatuation with Adam morphs into something more serious. But will ancient history ruin the chance of a future full of possibilities?
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About the Author
Coleen Kwan has been a bookworm all her life. English was her favorite school subject, but for some reason she decided on a career in IT. After many years of programming, she wondered what else there was in life—and discovered writing. She loves writing contemporary romance whether it’s sweet or sensual.
Coleen lives in Sydney, Australia, with her partner and two children. When she isn’t writing she enjoys avoiding housework, eating chocolate and watching The Office.
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ISBN: 978-14268-9398-8
Copyright © 2012 by Coleen Kwan
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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