A Dangerous Expectation (The Gentlemen Next Door) by Cecilia Gray

that there were no strings between the value of the engine and its greater parts.
    All eyes were on her, waiting patiently. She knew her next words would make or break her. That her next words mattered and for once, instead of fear, she felt power and courage.
    "Drummond Shipping has invented a new engine design—one we are certain will increase our fleet’s speed by more than ten percent."
    The murmuring and whispers grew and while there were some words of doubt, for the most part, the men believed her. They had seen the proof of Drummond’s superior engineering in the past.
    "While we are certainly within our rights to privatize our design, Drummond Shipping would like to enter into a relationship with the Crown. A mutually beneficial understanding."
    She outlined her trade—the design for the shipping routes—and as her resolve grew, so did the strength of her voice and so did the interest of the men around her.
    She wondered if this was how Chastity often felt when she commanded the operations in port.
    As the lords leaned closer, as their expressions grew more thoughtful, Cassandra knew she could never go back to silence again.
     
    * * *
     
    Cassandra snuck into Lord Willoughby’s home—no, her home—past the movers and maids. She knew the master bedroom was already prepared so she made haste there, eager to change before returning to Gray.
    She had no sooner walked in than she felt a large, warm palm curve around her waist and turn her into a pair of strong arms. Gray pulled her against him, tightly fisting the folds at the back of her dress.
    "When did you get here?" she asked, muffled, against his shirt.
    "Not as soon as I would have liked." He pulled away, studying her, then pulled her back against him.
    "You’re no longer angry with me?" she asked, unsure of how to read his reaction.
    "I was never truly angry with you."
    Relief melted her against him. She felt his lips play with the strands of hair at her forehead.
    "What are you up to, wife?"
    Cassandra shivered at the word—the way he said it. "Making use of your gift to me."
    He pulled back, brows knit. "The engine design? It was more yours than mine."
    "No, not the engine design—although that has saved our company and will protect us from your father. I meant your other gift—the gift of my voice," she explained. "The gift of being exactly who I am. Lady Gray Abernathy. Your wife."
    He cupped his hand against her cheek. "Not just my wife. A force to be reckoned with. Quite possibly one of the brightest minds in England."
    "If you insist," she said with a laugh.
    He kissed her hard and with the unyielding pressure of his mouth, with the gentle feathering of his lips, she tasted his desire for her.
    "Lower," she sighed.
    He obliged, his tongue licking its way down her neck as his hand loosened the ribbon at her bodice. She pulled him backward until her knees buckled against the bed and they fell back.
    His weight on top of her was strange and exciting all at once, was warmth and energy zipping through her blood.
    "Lower," she said, her voice strangled.
    He dipped his mouth to her collarbone, then his lips trailed to the tops of her breasts. She felt him hesitate, felt him waiting for her to stop him as she had in the past.
    "More," she said.
    He groaned, resting his head on her chest so the locks of his hair tickled her there.
    "More," she insisted.
    He lifted his head and ran one finger up her cheek to rest his palm against her face. "Are you certain? Are you not afraid anymore?"
    She laid her palm over his hand. "Only of a life of silence, of letting others control us and our fate."
    He dipped his lips to her forehead and pressed them there, hard. She felt him trembling against her skin.
    "What do you expect happens now?" she asked.
    "Now," he said, pulling her close again, "you let me love you. As I do."
    She ran her fingers through his hair so they clasped behind his head. "Love me as I love you, instead."
    "I expect," he said, drawing her lip