The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1) by Anne Renwick

seamlessly with another. The memory brought pain, like a wound that would not heal. Much like his leg. He pushed the thought away into a deep corner of his mind. He had no wish to explore it further.
    Amazing, what she’d been able to accomplish on her own. A shame her formal training had been delayed so many years. The blame was partially his. Had he not ignored the missive she’d sent some two years past, this neurachnid might already be operational. Thornton regretted losing even the few days Lady Amanda had worked in his laboratory. Though she’d been in Henri’s capable hands, he should have expressed more immediate interest in this project.
    He set down his tools and turned to look at Lady Amanda. Really look at her. Not only was she brilliant, she was beautiful. Even though she wore a stained canvas apron and clockwork grease covered her long, elegant fingers. Even though strands of dark hair floated about her face, catching on magnification goggles that made her eyes seem twice their normal size. As she reached for one tool after another, tweaking and adjusting the tiny creature’s mechanized legs, she bit her lip in intense concentration, and Thornton lost all interest in the task before him.
    All he wanted at this moment was to reach out with his thumb and forefinger to tug her lower lip free from those teeth. His hand twitched as he imagined cupping her jaw, drawing her face across the space that separated them and claiming those soft, pink lips with his own crushing need.
    His mind screamed that this was a horrible idea, a clear abuse of his position. Another, much lower portion of his anatomy disagreed, urging him to take immediate action.
    This wasn’t like him. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt such an uncontrollable rush of desire. So long, in fact, that he’d allowed his mother to arrange a suitable marriage to one Lady Anne Grimwauld, a match that had fulfilled everyone’s expectations until his injury. At which point Lady Anne had cried off. It seemed she had received a more enticing offer, one from an uninjured viscount.
    Marriage, he’d decided, could wait. There were other ways to meet basic, biological urges, but not with the woman beside him. No matter the inviting glances she threw him, her eyes dilated with desire. No matter the racing pulse at her throat when he returned her stare. No matter the dark satisfaction his primitive brain found in eliciting such reactions.
    What reaction might a simple touch unleash?
    But not only was she his student, she was the innocent daughter of a duke, a duke who had the ear of the Queen. A duke who, as Thornton’s superior, had ordered him to report to his side this very evening. It seemed Lady Amanda’s father, citing his family’s involvement, had been granted oversight of the gypsy murders.
    Thornton closed his eyes to block temptation from view, but her very image was burned into his retinas.
    In his mind’s eye, he could still visualize her as she donned her apron, covering her very generous bosom. Covering the rust and caramel leather of her corset. Covering the wide straps and gold buckles that cinched her waist.
    His hands insisted they could easily span the width of that waist and lift her onto the workbench. His fingers, also traitorous, demanded permission to free the prong from each buckle’s hole, after which they planned to hunt for buttons among the white frills of her shirtwaist. His palms then insisted they must explore the soft curves beneath all those layers. Together, hands and fingers would fondle and stroke and tease until they managed to coax an uncontrolled gasp from her throat.
    Thornton stifled a groan and opened his eyes. There’d be no rising from his stool anytime soon. Mentoring her might prove an impossibility.
    Lady Amanda pushed her goggles onto her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. Tiny lines of worry creased her brow.
    “Headache?” he asked, surprised to hear his