Page 60 of The Defiant One
She turned her head and met his intent gaze. "Do you?"
"Of course. I'm a 'mad' inventor. Most people I meet couldn't be bothered to show an interest in the things that I do, in the dreams that I have; and since they don't understand my work, nor my visions, they write me off as 'peculiar' and choose not to bother with me. I am like a horse with six legs. They don't know what to make of me, they can find no common ground with me, and so I am best left alone — which suits me just fine, of course."
"I think your work is incredibly fascinating," she said heatedly.
"Then you are the exception, rather than the rule."
"And I think your dreams are going to change the world."
He smiled. "Well, I don't know about that, but trust me, Celsiana, I do know what it's like to be ridiculed for my beliefs, for my passions, for my dreams of improving life as we know it — just as you know what it's like." He unfolded his arms from behind his head, putting them beneath the blankets to escape the chill. "Even now, I shudder when I remember what my peers in the scientific community said after my flying machine failed and dumped Charles and me in the moat — and this in front of the king himself. I shudder to think what they will say when they learn I've created an aphrodisiac and can't even remember what went into it. Ah, the mortification . . . Here I am, an inventor and man of science, and I didn't even record the substances that went into making what could very well end up being the most incredible discovery of this decade, if not this century."
There was pain in his voice. Tentatively Celsie reached out and found his hand beneath the covers.
His fingers curled around her own.
They remained that way for several moments, just holding hands, looking up at the ceiling, neither saying a word.
"Know what's rather funny?" she said, at last.
"What's that?"
"Here we are, two misfits who think we can change the world . . . Perhaps we're better suited to each other than either of us had thought."
"I suppose we would be very well suited indeed, if either of us had any inclination to get married."
"Yes. I think it's better that we remain friends rather than spouses. Marriage would probably ruin our burgeoning friendship."
"We're working on that, aren't we? Being friends?"
She heard the smile — and what sounded like hope — in his voice. She turned her head and saw that he was watching her, his expression inscrutable.
"Yes — yes, I suppose we are." She smiled slowly. "Though I don't think friends usually lie together in the same bed."
"No one will know. I'll be out of here by the time the servants are up."
"You'd better be. The last thing we need is for anyone to catch you here. There'll be no escaping the matrimonial noose, then!"
"I promise to leave at first sounds of stirring downstairs."
"And I'll go back to my own townhouse shortly thereafter."
"No one will be the wiser."
"No one."
She squeezed his hand. He squeezed hers back. Celsie shut her eyes, listening to the rain, taking pleasure in the heavy warmth of the coverlet, the drowsy heat radiating from Andrew's body. Eventually, the sound of the rain began to grow distant. She sighed, turned over, and instinctively curled closer to him.
Just as instinctively, his arm went around her, heavy, warm, protective.
Celsie's last thought was one of gratitude. It was nice not to have to sleep alone, after all.
Chapter 18
"Oh, bother," muttered Nerissa as the mud-splattered coach drew up outside de Montforte House just as it was growing dark. "There's Perry's mother, heading straight towards us. You'd think she was just waiting for us to get here, the way she's hurrying out of her house. That malicious gossip is the last person I feel like seeing."
Nerissa was tired and irritable. Charles and Gareth had arrived late the night before, and having left so early this morning none of them had got much sleep. Now, her brothers rode just outside the carriage, Lucien some distance ahead and mounted on his hellish black stallion, Armageddon. Charles, astride his steadfast military mount, Contender, flanked the coach, every so often conversing with Gareth, who was aboard his fleet Thoroughbred, Crusader.
Their wives, Juliet and Amy, shared the coach with Nerissa.
