Chapter Five

H ow strange to be in West’s arms again. Fleetingly Helena became once more the innocent girl who had been so mad for him.

Except his easy strength was new, and the confidence. This was a man who knew how to touch a woman. Whereas she felt tremulous and untried, as if those poisonous years with Crewe had never existed.

Slowly she ran her palms up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. The mature West was an altogether more substantial figure than his younger self. The body under her hands was firm with muscle, even if he was too thin after his illness.

Remembering how mere days ago, he’d been racked with fever prompted her to steal this chance. In recent years, her only physical pleasure had been a good gallop on a fine horse—and little enough of that. What a tragic waste. West was right. Crewe might be in the grave, but still he blighted her life.

Once she’d loved kissing. West and she had whiled away a whole summer with kisses. Even Crewe had known how to kiss her into a lather of desire, when he could be bothered. It was what came after kissing that left her cringing with frustration and shame.

Tonight she couldn’t bear to be that pathetic creature.

“What’s wrong?” West whispered.

Startled, she emerged from the unhappy past to find the man of the present observing her with concern. His hands sat loosely at her waist.

Once she gave her consent, she’d expected him to leap on her. His kiss had caught her unprepared. Unprepared and unafraid. The lack of fear had convinced her that despite years of pique, at some instinctual level, she still trusted her first love.

“Why do you ask?”

His tender expression twisted her heart. Even in courtship, Crewe had never given her a scrap of tenderness. To her adolescent self, that had seemed thrilling proof of overmastering passion. Today’s Helena knew better.

“Because you were as supple as a willow wand, and now you’re all tight and wary again.”

To her surprise, she responded honestly. Tonight was unprecedented in so many ways, not least because she abandoned all defenses. Or they abandoned her. “I’m nervous.”

More breathtaking tenderness. “So am I.”

She frowned her disbelief. “Don’t play games, West.”

“You challenged me to show you pleasure. Good God, it’s more responsibility than the government laid on my shoulders when I went to Russia. Then I only had to worry about the fate of empires.”

Something coiled and suspicious inside Helena loosened as she laughed. “You’re absurd.”

He cupped the side of her face. “And you’re lovely.”

The tightness returned. “No, I’m not. My nose is too big.”

It was West’s turn to laugh. “I love your nose. I always have. It has such character. A woman so imperious would look silly with a little button nose. You’re a queen, Helena, not a pretty little poppet.”

When he kissed her long blade of a nose, she shifted uncomfortably. Crewe had left her mistrusting everything about herself, including her looks. Now she hated how she yearned for more of West’s praise. “You don’t have to—”

“Give you compliments? I do, if you’re mad enough to underestimate your attractions.”

She snorted. “Overdoing it, West.”

He grabbed her hand and pressed it over his pounding heart. “Feel that?”

Wide-eyed Helena stared at him. “For me?”

“For you.”

Without stopping to second-guess herself, she rose on her toes—West was one of the few men she knew tall enough to make her feel small and feminine—and pressed her lips to his.

Her boldness startled him, and he jerked away. “Helena, are you sure?”

Yes, definitely a better man than her louse of a husband. She hooked her hands over his broad shoulders. “No.”

This time when she kissed him, she leaned closer, nipping at his lower lip until he let her in. When his arms lashed around her and his mouth opened over hers, triumph filled her.

After all this time, she’d expected to feel more tentative, but this was like coming home after a long, difficult journey. A voluptuous sigh escaped, and she parted her lips to allow him access. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and she met him eagerly.

Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to a sizzling universe of sensation. West’s scent was richer and more potent than she remembered, and he tasted so delicious. Heat swept through her with swift and irresistible force. A powerful pulse set up in the base of her belly.

Helena moaned against his seeking lips, as his hands roamed up and down her back. Only when her bodice sagged did she realize he touched her with intent.

She wasn’t hypocrite enough to protest. At last blood flowed through her veins. For years, she’d lived in ice.

With frantic hands, she pushed the coat and waistcoat from his shoulders, and tore at his neck cloth until his soft, white shirt fell open. Greedily her palms danced across the planes of his chest.

When he stepped back, she growled deep in her throat. Eyes glittering with purpose, he wrenched her blue silk bodice down.

“West…” she gasped, hands flying up to cover her breasts.

He caught her wrists and lowered them to her sides. “I’ve wanted this since we hid behind the stables and kissed each other to insanity.” His voice was hoarse with desire.

Looking back, she realized how careful he’d been with her. West might act the rake, but in essence, he was a good man. And recognizing that, she relaxed her arms in silent compliance. He released her wrists and cupped her breasts in his large hands. She shivered as he flicked his thumbs over her nipples, teasing them to dark pink points.

“So lovely,” he murmured, and closed his lips over one yearning peak. She started. And started again when his tongue rasped over her. Her knees turned to water, and unsteady hands clutched his shoulders.

“You’re…you’re tormenting me.”

His soft laugh tickled her skin, before he directed his attention to her other breast. A nip made her cry out and press closer. That hot, skillful mouth set her blood singing.

She thrust her hips forward, wantonly presenting herself. One hand curled into his shoulder, while the other tangled in his thick, warm hair. She wriggled, trying to relieve that insistent, thunderous throb between her legs.

Only when she was pulling his hair and panting did he raise his head. His eyes were heavy and dark, and that expressive mouth was fuller than usual.

“Let me have you.” The arm around her waist tensed in demand, but still she didn’t feel threatened. “Tonight.”

Tonight? In confusion, she shook her head. How could he ask her to make decisions when every touch threatened to incinerate her?

Disappointment flooded his eyes, and he reluctantly pulled away. “Damn, Hel, I’m sorry.”

“No.” Eager hands snatched at his arms.

Puzzled he stared at her. “No?”

“No.” Licking her lips, she tasted West. “No, don’t go.”

He straightened. “So really it’s yes?”

West was always presented comme il faut , with never a hair out of place. No wonder the government sent him abroad as England’s perfect gentleman. Now he looked ferocious and on edge, a thousand miles from the nonpareil who graced London’s drawing rooms. The thick black hair was mussed. His creased shirt hung loose about his narrow hips. Stubble darkened his jaw, potent reminder of his masculinity.

“For God’s sake, Hel,” he burst out when she didn’t speak. “You must know you’re safe with me. Not every man’s a bastard like Crewe.”

Not even the mention of her vile husband pierced the spell falling over her. “You’ve grown up devilish handsome, you know, West,” she said slowly. “I’ve never taken the time to appreciate you properly.”

To her delight, this world-weary libertine blushed a painful red. “What flummery.”

An instinct she hesitated to trust after the debacle with Crewe insisted that this time she wouldn’t end in a humiliated huddle. This time she chose a lover worthy of the name. After tonight, she’d understand the glow that surrounded Fen and Caro.

Years of tension flowed away, leaving behind pure desire. She must look revoltingly dreamy. Like West, she’d waited so long for this moment.

“Take me to bed.”

* * *

West must be dreaming. Had he fallen asleep waiting for Helena? Surely she hadn’t just invited him to tup her.

“West?”

No dream then. Thank you, God. He’d spent his entire adult life wanting her. Now lovely, unattainable Helena was here, warm, willing, and welcoming.

“I was planning the many ways I mean to pleasure you.”

“Perhaps you should stick to the basics.” Uncertainty dimmed her eyes. “Remember I’m out of practice.”

She was more than out of practice—she was a rank beginner. Crewe must have gone at his wife completely ham-fisted. West wanted to break the bastard’s neck all over again.

“A woman who rides a horse like you do will have no trouble with another sort of riding.”

Her low, sultry chuckle made him as hard as a fence post. Even as a girl, she’d had this siren’s voice, husky, alluring, suggestive.

He caught her by the hips and kissed her, poignantly aware that despite nine years of marriage, she was in essence still virginal. Difficult to remember when she curled against him and opened her mouth. Impossible when her tongue flickered around his in a hectic dance that threatened to blow his head off.

She wrenched away and glared at him, all fire and arrogance. “Don’t you dare.”

“What—”

“You’re feeling sorry for me again.”

“Damn it, Helena, I’m trying to be considerate.”

“Don’t,” she growled. “If Crewe couldn’t break me, nothing can.”

What a damned sapskull he was. He did her an injustice. Tonight she’d revealed her vulnerability, and he’d let that blind him to her resilience. She deserved everything he could give. More, she thrived on someone matching her. He only had to recall those impudent letters to recognize that. “I don’t want to break you. I want to make you whole.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I am whole. You know me, West. I’m no shrinking violet.”

This woman threw herself over towering fences on horses most men would hesitate to mount. She always rode at the front of the pack. If he wanted to keep up with her, he must play the game to the best of his ability.

The challenge fired his blood.

He nodded. “Very well. No concessions for the weaker opponent.”

She made a dismissive sound. “I’m not your inferior.”

“You most certainly are not.” With sudden urgency, he wrenched his shirt over his head and flung it into the corner. “But remember when you’re hot and panting and begging for mercy, that you asked for this.”

A brief laugh. “I’d like to see that.”

So, by the devil, would he. His confidence surged when her covetous gaze fastened on his bare chest. She licked her lips again. Satan and all his minions, every time she did that, he nearly lost himself.

He toed off his shoes and reached for his trousers. Predictably her lustful expression made his cock swell. Before he could accept her unspoken invitation, she tugged the skirts of her blue gown. The sibilant whisper when it crumpled to the ground was one of the most evocative sounds he’d ever heard.

“There’s a heaven, and I’m in it,” he murmured. It was his turn to devour her with his eyes. “You still hold a lot of surprises, Helena.”

Her bold front was touchingly unconvincing. “I like wearing pretty things.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He stepped back to take in Helena’s undergarments. Red rosebuds trailed with seeming artlessness across filmy lawn.

With a very un-Helena-like fumble, she untied her petticoat. It slithered down with more of that damned rustling. Her shift offered ghost glimpses of pearled pink nipples and the dark hair concealing her sex. A satin corset embroidered with more roses slanted across her body where he’d tugged it awry. West’s fingers curled at his sides at the prospect of tracing the twining roses, then discovering her smooth olive skin beneath.

Scarlet garters held up sheer, white stockings, and the ribbons on her satin slippers, blue to match her dress, tied around her neat ankles. In all his days, he’d never seen such a pretty picture.

“You naughty girl.” His gaze sharpened as heat speared him. “You’re not wearing drawers.”

“Sometimes, I…I don’t.” The stammer wasn’t like her either. “I take it you approve.”

“I’m out of my bloody mind with approval. It’s a good thing I never knew what was under those dauntingly stylish gowns, or you’d have found yourself compromised well before this. It was hard enough keeping my hands off you anyway.”

She looked gratifyingly intrigued. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he said, as though he swore his life away. He drew a hairpin from the mass of black hair coiled at her nape. “With your hair like this, you remind me of a renaissance princess.”

Her mouth, red with kisses, quirked with familiar, endearing humor. “Lucretia Borgia?”

“Someone a little less murderous.” He removed two more pins. A silky skein of black snaked down across her shoulder. Delicately he lifted it and brought it to his lips, breathing deep. Her rich scent flooded his senses. Smoky. Female. Unforgettable. So true to the woman she was.

Wonderingly she studied him. “You’re not—”

He smoothed the lock back, admiring its dense blackness against her skin. “I’m not what?”

“You’re not in a hurry.”

How criminally careless Crewe had been with her. “It doesn’t signal lack of appetite.”

Her gaze lowered to the bulge in his trousers. “It’s…nice. As though you’re taking time to enjoy each flavor, not just bolting the meal down.”

West laughed and kissed her. Through the busy years, and lovers who had meant far too little, as he now recognized with regret, he’d never forgotten Helena. She was endlessly fascinating, extraordinary. Salty and satisfying, where sugar palled.

She responded with pleasing swiftness, and his brief kiss turned into something long and profound. He buried his hands in her hair. When he drew away, it tumbled loose around her slender shoulders.

He nibbled a path down her neck, feeling her shiver, as he disposed of corset and shift. At last he set his hands on her naked body. “You’re beautiful.”

She raised her chin and faced him proudly. Tall. Slender. Long-legged. Graceful as a young goddess. “I’m glad you like me.”

“I’ve always liked you.” His smile was wry. “Haven’t you worked that out yet?”

She didn’t answer. That was all right. Soon she’d admit her fondness for him.

While West took off his trousers, Helena perched on the bed to remove slippers and stockings. The sight of her bare calves and feet enthralled him. Odd how random, seemingly insignificant moments kept catching him on the raw.

Tomorrow he’d ponder reasons. Right now, Helena awaited. He cast away the last of his clothing and strode toward the lovely woman, watching wide-eyed from the luxurious bed.