Their lovemaking that night was a scintillating mixture of the tender and the torrid.
Tender in the way they started, with long, gentle kisses that stretched their senses and heralded a slow slide into rising passion; torrid in the final moments, when heat and hunger geysered and drove them, before passion exploded, their senses dissolved, and ecstasy claimed them.
Finally, with oblivion beckoning, they slumped to the sheets, their skins dewed, hers rosy with sated desire.
Their breathing ragged, they lay on their backs, side by side, and waited for the tumult of their hearts to subside.
Despite the tug of satiation, they were both, it seemed, as yet too keyed up to slide willingly into slumber.
After several minutes, Rand drew up the sheet. They settled beneath it, still lying shoulder to shoulder.
Felicia tilted her head, resting it on his shoulder. “We’re nearly there, aren’t we? It’s all falling into place.”
Beneath the sheet, his fingers found hers; gently, he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “Yes.” He paused, then added, “In more ways than one.” He felt her gaze brush his face and went on, “The moment tomorrow when the Prince views the steam carriage is shaping to be one of those fraught instances—those particular moments in time on which so very much depends.”
Her fingers curled with his, and she snuggled closer. “The invention itself and all that flows from that. Your reputation with your investors, the outcome of your investment and theirs, William John’s reputation, his future prospects, the prospects for me and our family, the future of the Hall and our household.” She gripped his hand. “Far-reaching, indeed.”
After a moment, he said, “I know the steam engine works—that it is a vast improvement over what existed previously. I know we’ve taken every possible step to keep it safe, so that it can be presented as a working invention to the Prince tomorrow. Yet...”
Her head moved on his shoulder as, slowly, she nodded, then—softly, wryly—she huffed out a laugh. “It appears that’s another trait we share.” She looked up as he looked down. She searched his eyes, then her lips gently curved. “Neither of us, it seems, is at all comfortable taking things for granted and trusting to Fate.”
He grunted, then let his head fall back and l
ooked up at the ceiling. “Trusting to Fate is not my strength, especially not when so much is at stake.”
“Realistically,” she murmured, “this could still end in tears.”
“Sadly, with inventions, there is always a risk they’ll blow up in your face.”
“In this case, as I well know, that’s a literal prospect.”
They fell silent, then he raised their linked hands and settled them in the center of his chest. “There’s one thing we’ve found, one thing we’ve secured, that I hope that fraught moment tomorrow won’t affect—won’t change or alter—regardless of the outcome.”
Her breath wafting warm and soft against his skin, she murmured, “You and me. And this. That’s already ours, and no one and nothing—no turn of events, however catastrophic—can take it from us.”
He raised her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Regardless of what happens, we go on together.”
She nodded. “Together. Into whatever future awaits us, regardless of the vagaries of Fate.”
He glanced down, but could only see her red-gold curls. “We haven’t discussed our future.”
“No—and both you and I would rather not. Not at this juncture, this moment of waiting to see what tomorrow brings, whether it be wild success or bitter disappointment.” She paused, then, her voice gaining in confident certainty, went on, “We know our future is there. It won’t disappear if we leave it unaddressed for another day, and I—and you—would rather that when we do eventually come to consider it, we can devote our full attention to it. To us, to defining what we want.”
Her resolve, her agreement, dispersed his lingering uncertainty—his nebulous need to seize and hold and make sure of her above all else. Slowly, he nodded. “When this rather major distraction is over, we’ll focus all our energies on defining our future.”
“Done.” She snuggled down, curling into his side. “Let’s leave our personal discussion until the exhibition is over, and you and I have done everything we can to ensure our efforts reap the ultimate reward. Then we can turn to ‘defining us’ with utterly clear consciences.”
He smiled, because in that—in needing to feel their duty properly done—he and she were also alike.
The exchange had settled them. Their way forward decided, their minds finally relaxed, along with their already lax limbs.
He drew her fingers to his lips once more and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “To success,” he whispered.
“To success,” she breathed.
And they closed their eyes and let Morpheus take them.
CHAPTER 14