Page 120 of The Truth Serum
He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.
Chapter Thirty-Three
What a wonderfulthing to be mistress of one’s own home! No more placating Mother, no more trying to get Henry to wash the mud off before meals, and most especially no more tiptoeing around Fletcher’s moods. She was alone in her own home, and she could give the servants the night off whenever she wanted.
And tonight, she wanted.
She knew where tonight might end. She’d already spent a night in his bed. But she also knew that Henry was right. Everything had changed for her in a very short amount of time. How could she possibly know what she wanted now? It was too soon to decide anything.
But Henry never decided anything that he could avoid or put off, so his opinion wasn’t worth much.
Either way, she prepared for the evening by first going to the apothecary and learning everything she could possibly learn about the creation, storage, and uses of the truth serum. It didn’t take long. She was given the recipe and told that no one had ever come back to describe their experiences. And that Rebecca was the only soul who had asked for a second dose.
Then she dressed casually, ate dinner, and sent her servants away. Tonight, she would be alone, she declared. And then she sat by the servants’ entrance and pretended to read a book. Nate’s most recent book, actually, and her pretense fairly quickly turned into reality.
He entered well after dark while she was curled around a candelabra trying to make out the next page and the next and the next. He opened the door quietly, saw what she was doing, and grinned as if she had gifted him with the stars themselves.
“Oh good God,” she moaned as she set aside the book. “Tell me the villain doesn’t fall for that stupid a trick.”
“Which one? No wait. Don’t tell me. You’ll just have to read it to find out.”
“Oh never mind,” she huffed. “Besides, I’m sure he doesn’t. Your villains are always smarter than I expect.” She dropped her chin on her hand. “Just like you.” It was his heroines who needed work.
“I, smarter than you expect? Or extra villainous?”
She grinned. “I won’t tell you. You’ll just have to guess.”
He smiled back and then took her face in his hands. The motion was quick, but his touch was gentle. And then he pressed his mouth to hers. After the awkwardness between them, this was like a balm to her heart. He still wanted her. He still cherished her. And he kissed like a dream come true, all sweet gentleness but with increasing hunger. She felt it in the pressure against her lips, in the thrust of his tongue, and…
And the way he pulled back when she wanted to arch into him.
“We said we were going to talk.” He flashed her a rueful expression. “I don’t mind waiting, but…”
“We need to be sure of one another first.”
He shrugged. “I’m sure.”
She was, too. She wouldn’t have invited him here if she wasn’t. But prudence dictated that she at least pretend to consider her options. And besides, she had something important to discuss with him. Something in which he was the only one who could properly advise her.
“Have you eaten?” she asked. “Cook has been trying to learn a Cornish pasty. She has a long way to go before making it perfectly, but it is—”
“Truly?” he cried. “Oh, how I have missed those!”
She laughed and unfolded herself from her seat. “Then we shall—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Not yet. Let us do what we came here for first. I confess, having never been dosed with a truth serum, I am anxious about its effects.”
She nodded. “Of course.” To be honest, she was nervous as well, but that had nothing to do with the serum. It was all about what she had to share. “I’ve got it set up in the upstairs parlor.”
His brows rose. “Upstairs? Isn’t that—”
“No one is home. I have sent them all away on holiday for the rest of the week.”
“The week!”
“Yes. I told them I needed quiet.”
“But a week without servants,” he said slowly. “Are you sure—”
