Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“ T hank you for the dance, Lord Raventhorn, it was lovely,” Helena said politely, curtsying before the gentleman.

She was unsure whether she had danced well or not. Her mind was constantly preoccupied by Morgan and the things Morgan did to her or taught her to do to herself. Several days had gone by since their last lesson, and not a night had passed where she did not lock her quarter doors, climb naked beneath her covers, and fondle herself in the same way that Morgan had.

As promised, she had whispered his name each time she found release, and let the two syllables flow from her lips like a prayer, or a plea.

“It was a great pleasure, my lady,” Lord Raventhorn replied heartily, “You dance so beautifully. Did you practice ballet as a girl?”

“She did, actually,” Barbara chimed in, approaching them from the side with a smile. “Is she not the most graceful of us all?”

“Oh, most certainly,” Lord Raventhorn agreed, giving Helena a moon-eyed look of approval.

She smiled politely at him but felt nothing for the man, and replied awkwardly with a simple, “thank you.”

“Um, would you excuse me, Lord Raventhorn?” Helena asked, twisting her dusky pink satin-gloved hands. “I am positively parched.”

“Allow me to get it for you,” he urged, already taking a step towards the refreshments table.

“No, please,” Helena urged, forcing a light laugh to disguise her urgency. “I prefer to choose my own glass when I am this thirsty.”

Both he and Barbara looked at her with confusion, but Raventhorn bowed his head towards her.

“As you wish, my lady,” he replied, “I shall keep your companion company in the meantime.”

She gave him another quick curtsy and headed for the refreshments table. Helena drank a full glass of lemonade, needing its tartness to snap her out of her thoughts.

“Helena, love, are you feeling well?” Alice asked, joining Helena and Teresa.

“Perfectly so,” Helena replied after finishing the last gulp of her second glass of lemonade.

“Is there…anything wrong?” Teresa asked innocently.

Helena sensed her friends’ worries. Their concern flowed from them the same way it had from Barbara. They were trying not to push but were all obviously noticing that she was changing. She had lost her fight these last few days, given up completely on denying her future, and had been more closed off than ever.

Her resigned attitude did not include self-pity. It consisted solely of Morgan and his lessons. Irrespective of the man that Ambrose chose to be her husband, she would still have her memories of genuine desire, pleasure and lust.

Two lessons have already passed. Only five remain.

That realization was the only thing that made her sad.

“No, my friends,” she answered softly, grabbing their hands. “Have I not performed well this evening? Were my dance steps not acceptable?”

“Oh, no, you looked lovely, darling,” Alice assured her quickly.

“But…” Teresa added softly, “you looked…like you were dreaming.”

Unable to help herself, Helena’s eyes wandered to the bar and were once again rewarded with Morgan’s smile. Whether he had been talking with her brother, flirting with another woman, or making someone laugh, Morgan’s eyes always seemed to know when hers were upon him, and he always met her gaze.

Heat pooled in her lower belly as she caught the soft flare of his nostrils, the way his dark brow angled slightly while he continued talking with his friends. He was pleased she was looking, she realized, and she felt her lips lift into a smile as she looked back at Alice and Teresa.

“I am working on acceptance,” Helena said to her friends with a slight bow of her head. “Of my present and my future. Is that not what everyone wants?”

“Well…I suppose so,” Alice murmured, eyeing Helena carefully.

Two masculine hands wrapped around Alice’s waist and Duncan’s smile appeared by her shoulder as he planted a kiss on her neck. Helena watched joyfully as her friend’s face lit up with happiness and she turned in his arms to kiss his lips.

“Hello,” she said warmly. “What are you doing over here?”

“We have to come to nick some provisions from the refreshments table,” Morgan answered, stepping out from behind Duncan.

Helena’s blood sizzled in her veins as Morgan’s green eyes locked upon hers, and he reached for her hand.

“Could you help me with my selections, Miss Helena?” he asked, his tone innocent as he brought her knuckles to his lips.

Even the smallest brush of his bottom lip was enough to make her tremble.

“Still helpless, Lord Grandhill?” she toyed.

He smiled at her wickedly as he let go of her hand.

“As a child,” he remarked with a sarcastic grin. “Help me choose?”

As Duncan began to converse with Alice and Teresa, Helena and Morgan strolled towards a table covered with tiny finger sandwiches and other bite-sized treats.

“You look lovely this evening, Helena.” Morgan murmured as he studied the food.

Helena’s heart fluttered at the compliment. It was nothing unusual. Nothing he would not have said before when they were in front of the others. But this time, the small praise touched her deeply.

“You look quite handsome, yourself, Morgan,” she replied, letting her tone drop into a seductive, smoky tone as she said his name.

Morgan’s eyes closed briefly as he drew in a tense breath. A smile itched on her lips while he struggled with himself.

“You are kind,” he replied, snapping his eyes open before giving her a predatory look. “Are you having a pleasant evening?”

“Pleasant enough,” Helena murmured back. “A bit boring, though.”

A smile tugged at her lips as she dared a glance at Morgan, who was already smirking.

“Shall we make it a bit more exciting, then?” He asked, his tone deeper, so only she could hear.

“Yes,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the table, pretending to look over the choices.

“Yes, what?” Morgan rasped, a touch of harshness in his low tone.

Helena felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment as her abdomen filled with arousal.

“Yes please, sir ,” she whispered.

Morgan inhaled sharply through his nostrils as his jaw clenched and a short, low growl only she could hear escaped his throat. Keeping his eyes on the food, he reached for a sandwich beside Helena’s hand and traced the tip of his finger against it. The small touch sent a blaze of delicious fire up Helena’s arm, and she fought the urge to whimper.

“Very good, little Persephone,” he praised, drawing closer as he reached for another sandwich and whispered into her ear. “Meet me in the library in twenty minutes.”

“Duncan,” Morgan then said loudly for all to hear. “Come on, let us return to our seats before they are taken by lads younger and stronger than us.”

“Right,” Duncan laughed, placing a kiss on his wife’s neck in farewell. “Dance with me when we have finished eating, my love?”

“Of course,” Alice sighed, pressing her forehead to his cheek before releasing him. “Go, enjoy your treat.”

Twenty minutes later, Helena slid her body through a small opening in the library doors and shut them quietly behind her.

“Lock them,” Morgan’s command came from within the darkness, sending a jolt of excitement down Helena’s spine as every inch of her skin pebbled.

She slid her hand up the door, found the turnkey and slid it into place. The sound of the bolt thrummed in time with the beating drum in her groin, and she felt herself constrict with anticipation.

“Step forward five paces,” came Morgan’s next command.

Helena’s heart hammered in her chest as she silently counted off the steps and then stopped. From the darkness before her the outline of Morgan’s face appeared, and she caught the hungry scowl on his lips before they pressed into her own. She whimpered immediately, her body melting into his as he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and the other around her waist, pressing her fully into him.

“Kiss me harder,” Morgan rasped, lifting her into his arms, “Come on, little one, show me what you want.”

His command sounded brash, but Helena pushed aside any trembling reservations and sank her teeth into Morgan’s lower lip. He growled in appreciation as his grip on her tightened, and in retaliation he forced his tongue into her mouth, compelling her to suckle or be choked.

Helena slid her tongue challengingly around his mouth. He growled in response, then ripped savagely away from their kiss, only to press his lips to her jawline, her neck, and the soft, sensitive flesh of her bosom, pressed high by her corset and gown.

With his lips and tongue he worked her left nipple free from its constraints. Helena compressed her lips to stifle the moan that clawed in her throat. His lips were hot against her skin, branding her nipple as he taunted it with the tip of his tongue and teeth until her knees buckled. Morgan’s arms caught her before she struck the floor, and he placed her gently on the ground.

“Your breasts are so sensitive,” Morgan rasped, working at the fabric that covered her other nipple. “I wonder if I could cause you to release just by teasing them.”

Helena stifled another gasp as Morgan’s mouth worked its wicked magic, and she dug her nails into the arms of his jacket as she writhed beneath him. Her sex pulsed as she felt his weight and warmth on top of her, and she ached to feel his length pressed up against her as it had the other night.

Morgan bit her nipple, causing a sudden, sharp pain that struck her forcefully. Helena was unable to stifle the sharp gasp that burst from her lips. Morgan’s lips were on hers in a second, swallowing the sound as he pushed her skirts up to her waist.

“Now, now,” he chastised against her lips, tracing his fingers along the bare flesh of her inner thigh, “We cannot have that. Am I going to have to gag you, little one?”

Shame, desire, and excitement filled her as his question burned in the air, but before she could answer, his fingers had found her wet, parted petals and he slid a single, thick finger into her tight sheath. A deep, heady moan left Helena’s lips as she felt her pelvis tilt up and her legs open themselves wider.

“Oh, you poor, sweet thing,” Morgan teased, ripping the kerchief from his breast pocket with his free hand. “You need it do you not? Unless…”

Morgan stopped the gentle plunging movements between her legs, making her inner walls clench around his finger.

“Unless you want to be caught?” he whispered, sliding his lips over her ear. “Is that what you want, little Persephone? To be caught with me? To show everyone how much you belong to me? ”

Helena’s cheeks burned at the question. Yes. The answer was yes, and she knew it. And yet…

“No,” she whimpered, squirming beneath him. “Gag me, please, sir.”

A look of indignation passed briefly through Morgan’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a devilish smirk, and he quickly tied the kerchief around her mouth. Helena sank her teeth into the white fabric and felt a thrilling, primal pleasure that her ability to speak was inhibited.

Morgan flicked his tongue over her bottom lip before he lowered his head to the apex of her legs. As his tongue swept across the sensitive, taut bud of nerves nestled between her folds, Helena was suddenly incredibly grateful for the gag.