Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Helen knocked on the door of the address scripted on the card left by Captain Starling late in the evening. It appeared to be a bachelor's type residence, near Leicester Square, and Helen drew the hood of her cloak to better shield her face from prying eyes.

She had instructed her carriage to wait for her at the end of the street, but still she felt nervous. Helen had never before visited a man at his address alone, yet here she was, with the possibility of an illicit rendezvous buzzing along her nerves.

She shifted awkwardly on her feet, the wait for the door to be answered giving her far too much time to reconsider this rash decision.

But, she was leaving for Bath in the morning, the bags were all packed and ready by the door, the furniture in her townhouse draped under dust cloths.

And yet, there was this last thing that held her back from making the departure, a move many years planned and looked forward to.

Amelia had told her about Captain Starling's visit, and there had been something in the way she described his manner that seemed so out of place. Almost desperate.

The thought of such a man set off balance by her absence made Helen feel surprisingly powerful. She had never been pursued like this before, and the way he had spoken to her after that early morning lovemaking, almost tender… Well, it was enough to make a woman lose her head. Almost.

Certainly, Starling had gone out of his way to repair any damage her reputation might have suffered in the wake of Lord Holsen's scandal. The surprising support of Viscount Seton, in fact, had the effect of bringing Helen almost into fashion.

What did Captain Starling want from her, that he would go to such lengths to ensure she was left better off in the wake of the shocking rumours about her?

She was not quite sure, but perhaps he suffered from the same malady that had plagued her since the departure from Lady Caroline's estate.

Helen craved him, yearned for his touch, hungered for the look in his eyes as he gazed upon her.

It was madness, surely. It could be nothing else.

Finally, the door opened, and the man himself stood before her.

Those startling blue eyes blazed with heat the moment he saw her standing before him.

"Mrs Montrose," he said softly, ushering her in and scanning the street quickly before closing the door behind her.

Taking him in properly, Helen noticed the strain etched on the grooves beside his mouth, his shirt uncharacteristically rumpled, open at the throat, with no gaudy waistcoat in sight. He was draped in a somewhat threadbare deep blue silk banyan, hair mussed and dishevelled.

Had she ever seen him look so discomposed?

"You came," he said simply, his hand reaching out as if to cup her cheek, but pulling back at the last minute.

Helen simply nodded, mute all of a sudden as she stared up at him. What had she intended to say again?

"Come," he said, helping her to remove her cloak and taking her hand to lead her into a small, dimly lit parlour. A bright fire burning high in the grate with a set of comfortable chairs arranged before it.

Feeling like she was losing control of the situation, Helen tugged her hand from his, lifting her chin and settling herself primly on the edge of one of the chairs, tucking her skirts carefully around her legs.

Starling watched her steadily, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite her.

They observed each other stiffly for a moment, then Starling cocked his head. "You are not wearing red tonight," he said, with a small smile.

Helen glanced briefly down at her plain lavender dress, smoothing the skirt over her knees.

"I did not come here tonight as the scandalous widow. There is much more to me than her, you know," she replied archly.

"Of course I know," frowned Starling, raking his fingers through his hair. "Is that what you think of me? That I am so shallow as to not see the glorious woman hiding beneath the artificae of that facade?

Helen bounced to her feet, clasping her fingers together in agitation. "I don't know what to think of you, who you really are. Why am I here?" she demanded, stepping closer.

"I wanted to see you," said Starling softly, rising to stand before her. "I needed to see you. After-"

"Yes," interrupted Helen, warming to her topic. " After."

"After you seduced me as part of a job you were paid to do, to discredit me," she added in a rush.

Starling sucked in a deep breath, holding up his hands. "I was never paid to seduce you, Helen. I need you to believe me. The attraction between us was was completely unexpected."

"But you did intend to discredit me?" Helen whispered, biting her lip against the tremble that threatened.

"Oh God, what a mess," growled Starling, glaring up at the ceiling briefly. He looked back at her, his expression distraught. "I was paid to investigate you, yes. But there was nothing to find, of course. You are just an exceptionally talented card player. That was the beginning and end of my report, and Lord Holsen, devil take him, did not accept my findings."

"Was anything between us real, at any point?" asked Helen, sucking in a breath at the pain that the question wrought.

He stepped closer, making her senses spin at the scent of him, the warmth of him mere inches away from her. "Everything, every single moment between us was real, Helen. I swear it."

Helen searched his gaze, looking for the smallest hint of insincerity, as he stood tall and proud under her inspection.

There was that arrogance she had glimpsed before, the self-assurance of a man who knew his mind and cared not a whit what anyone else thought.

Something inside her buckled with relief at the knowledge.

But another part of her was too proud to accept it so easily.

"It matters not," she sniffed, tugging off her gloves with agitation. "I am leaving in the morning."

"Leaving for where?" Starling frowned, moving closer so that she had to tilt her head to keep him in her sight.

"Bath. It was my plan all along. I no longer have any reason to stay in London."

His brows flew up, his hands reaching out to grip her waist and tug her against him.

"This is a reason for you to stay in London, Helen." He pulled her closer, drawing her deeper into the spell he was weaving around her senses. "This. Us. We are perfect together, please tell me you feel it too?"

Helen blinked, anger flaring along with that simmering desire his presence unerringly awakened in her.

"You expect me to give up my plans, my life, for a fling?"

Starling huffed, but shook his head, his eyes sincere as he looked down at her. "Very well, I will come with you to Bath, then. I would follow you anywhere you wanted to go."

"Don't be ridiculous," Helen gasped, even as Starling stepped back towards his chair, pulling her with him.

"Come here, let me hold you for a moment," he growled, pulling her down onto his lap as he dropped into the seat. "We can talk about this, work it out. There is so much of myself I need to tell you, if you would only listen for a moment."

Something wild and unbidden rose up inside Helen, a fierce desire to kick and bite and scream. Scratch and twist like a wild cat caught in a trap.

No. She did not want to listen.

Helen did not want to care, or feel. She wanted to have peace again, as it was before she had met him. Before she had known that there could be more to life than struggling and fighting and surviving.

Who the hell was this man to think that she had to listen to anything he had to say?

That crazed part of her gripped the reigns of her sanity, the words tumbling from her lips before she could think about what they would mean.

"I don't want you to hold me, Starling. I want you to fuck me. Let us make it best of three, since we left things between us at an impasse?"

His eyes flashed, his mouth tightening as the coarse words she had spoken registered.

"We don't need to do that," he replied, with deadly calm. His hands tightened around her waist as she squirmed on his lap.

"We can be together, care for each other, just for a moment. It wouldn't be the end of the world to let your defences down for once."

He softened his voice, attempting to soothe her even as her temper flared hot and fierce at his unruffled response.

She didn't want sweet and tender. She wanted him raw, rough. Demanding.

"I just want to feel you in my arms," he coaxed, pressing his lips to her temple.

When she spoke again, Helen almost didn't recognise her voice.

"That's not how we work, what we do. We have sex. We enjoy ourselves, then we go on with our separate lives."

The rest came out as a rush.

"I am leaving for Bath in the morning. I am only here for… Well. I just knew I needed to see you one last time before we end this."

Starling cocked his head, incredulous. "Is that what you want, Helen? Is that all this is to you?" He gestured between them, appearing almost hurt. "A mere moment of madness, to be tossed aside at the first sign of adversity?"

"What does it matter?" Helen frowned, struggling from his grasp to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips, consternation and anger sending a blaze of heat over her cheeks.

"Dare you tell me there is anything more to this thing between us than the purely carnal?"

"Is that what you truly think, that we are just fucking ?" Starling replied, his eyes hot, jaw flexing with tension as he ground out the words.

"Of course," Helen answered, determinedly pushing aside the small voice inside her that pleaded with her not to do this, to stop and think for a moment rather than crash headlong towards disaster.

Instead, she boldly raised her skirts and clambered onto his lap, spreading her thighs around his hips and grinding herself down against the rigid length of him that she knew would be there waiting for her.

And it was, his arousal hard and jutting between at the apex of her thighs, the roughness of his breeches chafing the delicate skin there with delicious friction.

"What else could it be?" she wondered aloud, her voice turning husky as she leaned down to nip the skin of his neck below his jaw, running her hands up into his hair as she rubbed herself shamelessly against him.

Helen knew Starling wanted her, his harsh, panting breaths and the slight pulse of his hips below her betrayed the weakness of his body.

It was the same weakness she suffered from. The madness that had turned her from her long-chosen path of solitude for one last night of sweet connection.

"I want you. You want me. It's just fucking," she whispered against his jaw, flicking her tongue out to taste the salt of his skin as her core clenched around the need to feel him inside of her.

Starling grabbed her roughly by the hair at the nape of her neck, dragging her head back so he could look down into her face, his eyes hooded with anger and lust.

"You want me?" he rasped, the words edged with something dark, his gaze commanding her full attention as he reached between them and freed himself, his hand dipping between her thighs to trail his fingers up through her folds.

Helen moaned, her center unbearably sensitive as he speared his fingers into her heat, roughly grinding the heel of his palm against her swollen bud.

"Yes, I do. You know it," she gasped, bucking needily into his touch.

He grabbed hold of her from below, cupping one side of her bottom and lifting her as he fitted himself at her entrance.

"Tell me again," he demanded, rocking up against her, pressing barely inside and pulling back, to her immense frustration.

Helen squirmed, angry that he was playing these games, even more angry at herself for wanting to give him what he wanted, for her to beg for it.

She tried to lower herself onto him, but he held her back, his fingers digging into the plump flesh of her bottom.

"Starling, I need you inside of me-"

He hissed with victory, pushing up into her with a surge of his hips, jolting her down hard onto his cock as her head fell back and an anguished, eager moan flew from her lips.

The pleasure pain of him roughly invading her tight core was exactly what she had craved.

Starling gripped Helen around the waist, holding her firmly against him so she couldn't move as he speared himself up into her from below. Working his hips ruthlessly, impaling her again and again until she was boneless, lost in the haze of lust and sensation, their panting breaths mingling together with each jagged thrust and retreat.

Showing her just who was in charge here.

All Helen could do was hold on with desperate hands and trembling thighs, and let him have her. Let him give it to her as he saw fit.

The sounds spilling from her lips were a mix of sobbing cries and pleas for more. She couldn't stop herself, as white- hot pleasure shot through her with every punishing drive into her clenching heat. The depraved sound of their bodies coming together sent a wave of hot shame through her, wetness surging between her thighs and amplifying the anamalistic sound of their raw coupling.

"Do I make you feel good? Do you love it when I take you like this, take control, let you lose yourself for just a moment," grunted Starling, grinding her down on him now, demanding she give him all of her pleasure as he moved his thumb around to the tender bud above where they joined.

"Yes, Oh God, yes. So good , Starling."

He dragged her face to his, his mouth a whisper away from her lips.

"Tell me again, what is this? What are we doing?

" We. are. Just. Fucking, " she groaned, circling her hips hungrily, antagonising him on purpose now, loving the fire her challenge lit in his gaze.

His thumb was rubbing, rubbing, sometimes hard, sometimes soft, drawing out all the shivery heat and pulses of sharp pleasure that fluttered like a bird below her navel, desperate to be set free.

Starling loosened his grip on her hips, and with a throaty gasp of relief, Helen started to swivel her hips, grinding herself against the base of his cock, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with breathless ecstasy as the maelstrom of sensation reached a powerful crescendo, then exploded below her navel.

She sobbed and arched, rocking over him, losing her rhythm as ripples of tension flew through her limbs, and all the while Starling held her and fucked her through it. Matching her need with his, tasting each cry on her lips with possessive satisfaction.

Moments later, he choked back a guttural groan, his thrusts turning sharp and rough until he pulled her down flush to his hips, bucking desperately into her as the heat of his spend jetted deep into her core, filling her up with his very essence.

As they fought for breath, Starling pulled back, forcing her dazed attention to his face.

What she saw there made Helen go rigid with shock.

"I'm not," he rasped, his voice low and almost bitter. "I'm not just fucking you. I'm having you, loving you, the only way you'll let me."

Starling gripped her chin, not allowing her to look away even as her legs trembled against his hips, the warmth of his release seeping out to coat her thighs.

"I'm begging you, Helen. Give us a chance. Please."

Helen stared up at him in shock as his choice of words registered in the back of her mind.

He was letting her win . He was asking her to choose her prize.

Starling was begging her to choose him. To let him love her.

You want that , screamed her inner voice, beating frantically at the door she had locked her heart behind many years ago.

But her voice stayed mute, her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Disappointment flared in those beloved azure eyes, his hands softening where they had held her tight, falling away as defeat shuttered over the hope she had glimpsed there in his gaze.

"Very well," sighed Starling, lifting her and setting her gently away from him. "Forgive me, but I will leave you to see yourself out."

With those heart-wrenching words, he stood up and stalked from the room without looking back.