Although he’d stopped her hand from its tempting wandering, he was too late to stop her luscious lips inching toward his.
Too late to stop his body from reacting to the desirable woman she was. He would only have to move his head a couple of inches and he’d be able to taste her. He tried—for one instant—to break the spell she held over him. Her offered-up innocence was both frightening and tempting at the same time. It was her smile that unmanned him. Despite all he had to lose, it was a risk his heart and body told him to take. He simply wanted her. He wanted something that was good and pure, and he knew he shouldn’t because he’d tarnish it.
It was only a kiss. The words echoed in his mind. His injury would stop him from doing something completely foolish, like rolling her beneath him and teaching her about passion.
One kiss. What harm could it do? He knew exactly what harm it could do, and yet he could not deny her sweet request, nor could he deny his own need to taste what she was freely giving.
With his hand still cupping her face, he drew her lips to his and gently molded his mouth to hers.
At the first taste of her sweetness the control he thought he held tightly in his grasp began to slip. The kiss lengthened and deepened. He felt a hand on his chest and it burned.
If not for his injury he was sure she would’ve been pressing up against him. She wanted more; he knew it. God help him, his common sense was fleeing. He knew nothing beyond her innocent hunger, and his own need to give her what she wanted.
To his horror he recognized Helen understood the effect she with having on him. She could taste it in his kiss, and she gloried in her newfound power.
But she could not possibly understand what giving in to desires could lead to. It would lead to her disgrace and ruin. A price far too high to pay for one fleeting moment of passion.
There could never be anything more than desire between them. He did not belong in her world, and she certainly did not belong in his.
Her innocence was like the opium he drank; its addiction was potent. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman who could conjure such innocent delight. The thought of her losing that innocence at the hands of such a debauched sinner saw him win his internal battle.
He drew away, gently breaking the kiss. A flicker of unease passed through him at the look of triumph in her eyes. She had more than proved her point. Desire all but hummed between them. If he’d not been wounded who knows what might have happened. Fear bit him and he reacted.
“I’m tired,” was all he could bring himself to say.
* * *
—
Heady with victory Helen simply smiled at his curt tone. She could see his chest rapidly rising and falling. He was affected by their kiss as much as she was. He wanted her, coveted her, and she was dizzy with the knowledge.
Clarity struck through her pounding heart. She wanted him to be hers. This was who fate had sent her. She wanted him to love her enough to withstand whatever punishment society threw at them. She suddenly did not care about titles, money, or what her brother would say. For the first time ever, she wished she was simply a young woman, and not the daughter of a marquis.
She knew in her heart what she would have to give up to forge her claim. To make him hers. And she did not care. He stole her breath, held her mind and senses captive.
If the kiss had taught her anything it was that she had been right the other night. They were good together. They had interests in common. Both of them wanted to do more for those less fortunate than themselves. He was the first man who stirred her soul and with whom she could see a future with—family, children.
He was her fate. The man meant for her. Now all she had to do was show him that nothing could stand in the way of their happiness.
Oh, the ton would be shocked; they would likely ostracize her and rebuff him, but she’d never cared for the ton. She was more worried about her family. But she knew Maitland and her brother were powerful, surely they could deal with the scandal. It helped having a duke in the family, and a brother who was a marquis.
If she tried to tell him that she didn’t care that she would no longer be accepted in society, or tried to push him to come to the conclusion that society didn’t matter, she’d lose him. Trying to seduce a man who held honor so close to his chest was a mistake. He would never do anything to dishonor her or the life and employment Marisa had given him. Helen would have to find another way.
She gently pushed at his chest and made him lie back. “Sleep,” she whispered and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
She almost laughed at his look of confusion and then relief. This was not over. Would never be over if she could help it.
She might have retreated but the war was far from lost.
He closed his eyes on a sigh, and she wanted to reach out and stroke the dark stubble on his cheek but knew she’d pushed him as far as she could tonight.
She settled into the chair by Clary’s bed and picked up her novel. It was a story by her favorite author, Jane Austen. Helen had read a lot of Miss Austen’s works without knowing it. Her previous books had always been published anonymously, simply noted as By a Lady. However, Helen’s version of Persuasion, purchased by Sebastian as a birthday gift last year, had a note from Miss Austen’s family declaring the author’s identity. Helen was most upset to learn Miss Austen died a few years ago. She was very talented and she envied Miss Austen’s ability to write stories.
She read the words out loud with no idea if Clary could hear, but the sound of her voice seemed to calm him. She did note the irony of the story. It was about a young girl who fell in love with a man her parents did not think worthy.
She stopped reading and looked at Clary. She knew Marisa and Sebastian would likely have a fit at any suggestion of an attachment, but something drew her to Clary, and it wasn’t just his looks.
She sensed a deep sadness in him and he was so contained. Her parents had openly warred. Jealousy caused bitter fighting and screaming in her house, and as a young girl she’d often tried to hide from the storms around her. She’d longed for quietness. She’d wanted her parents to be more contained.
Yet, having met Clary, she now knew there was such a thing as too contained. Clary rarely smiled. She’d never heard him raise his voice in anger or in joy either. It was almost as if he’d shut off all of his emotions and that couldn’t be good for you. What did he live for? Without joy or love what else was there?
She’d read for a little over an hour when suddenly Clary let out a low moan. Helen immediately put the book down and pressed her hand to his forehead. His skin felt clammy but not hot.
He took a shuddering breath, so she sank onto the edge of the bed and stroked his handsome face, telling him to sleep. He stilled beneath her hands and she kept stroking, singing softly to him, a song she remembered her mother singing to her when she was very young. It was one of the only happy memories she had of her mother.
His distressed breathing lessened, and it alerted her to the fact he was awake. His eyes were open and staring at her with almost reverence. She made to rise but he laid his hand on her arm and said, “Keep singing.”
She hesitated but kept singing although she kept her hands in her lap. He stayed staring at her while she sang. When she finished he whispered, “You have the voice of an angel.”
Flustered she asked the first thing that came to mind. “Do you need something for the pain?”
“No. Just looking at you, knowing I cannot have you, is more painful than this wound.”
She had to ask even though she knew it would be a mistake. “We could be together if you’d fight for me as I would fight for you.”
He stilled and his eyes closed. “Go home to your family tomorrow and don’t come back.”
His words were blunt and sounded full of defeat.
“I am leaving in the morning but this orphanage and the children in it are too important for our—for our personal feelings—for me to walk away. Marisa was correct abou
t one thing. This experience has changed me. It’s shown me what I want to do with my life, and I intend to do it.”
“Fine, as long as we remember our places in this world.”
“The Bible says that all men are created equal. Do we not all bleed, cry, love, breathe? As far as I’m concerned it’s man who has created inequality.”
“There is no God, he’s an illusion created to try and get us through the harsh realities of life. I’m perfectly fine to look after myself for the rest of the night. Go back to your room and get some sleep before you leave. I should have insisted you leave yesterday.”
Again, he was calm and serious. No emotion in those words and it annoyed her. For once she wanted to see some kind of reaction from him. “If there is nothing between us, why is having me here so terrible?”
“Because you make me think I’m a better man than I am.” He briefly closed his eyes. “What of your reputation? If it were known you were staying here, you’d be, if not ruined, at least the subject of gossip. Her Grace would blame me for allowing that to happen.”
“Hardly. My sister knows me better than that. She knows that when I make up my mind there is no turning me. Besides, I’ve been the subject of gossip most of my life, what with my parents’ farce of a marriage, and then Sebastian’s antics. Killing a man in a duel, then marrying the dead man’s sister sets tongues wagging.” She eyed him sharply. “Be truthful. There is another reason you don’t want me here.”
To her surprise she got her reaction. Her breathing hitched when she noted a spark of—anger—heat—fear—flare in his eyes. “Are you waiting to hear that I desire you, want you? Christ, what man wouldn’t? Look at you, you’re beautiful.”
“Then what is standing in our way? I realize you are not titled…but it’s obvious you are a gentleman.”
His face grew pale. “Just leave. Now.” Anger lanced his words.
Why did he fight their attraction so? What was he hiding from her? A sudden suspicion took hold and made her feel sick to her stomach. “Are you in love with my sister? I would understand if you were, she’s beautiful and vivacious. Are you wishing it was her you kissed?”
Then she definitely got a reaction. Not the one she expected though. He began to laugh until he grimaced in pain. “Good God, no. How did you come to that conclusion?”
She shrugged. “You’ve been acting like a trapped alley cat from the moment I asked Marisa to be involved with this orphanage. I don’t believe you know me well enough to dislike me. I can only assume it’s because you would prefer to be in her company.”
Chapter 8
Clary wished now he’d asked for opium and fallen back asleep, but he’d wanted the opportunity to talk before he forced her to leave. He had not wanted to talk on this topic though.
Except now she had him trapped. Either he told her he was in love with her sister or she’d want to know why he was pushing her away.
“Her Grace will always have my undying loyalty but other than that she is simply my employer.” He emphasized the word “employer.” Surely she would understand that he was in a delicate position.
“Well, it seems we are at an impasse. We will have to learn to work with each other for I have no intention of turning my back on my new role.”
“I don’t dislike you, Helen. That is not the problem and you know it. The main reason I did not want you to come with me to Southwark was because to me you are perfection. I have admired you since the day we met outside Her Grace’s room when she’d been injured.”
Helen’s hand landed on her chest, joy washing over her face. “I never knew.”
“How could I let you know? We are worlds apart. When you suggested being involved with the orphanage I didn’t want you to be involved to protect you. I knew from the beginning what Glover was probably up to and I was worried about your safety and if you must know, I didn’t want to be the one to pull the curtain aside and expose you to the underbelly of this world. Innocence once taken can never be replaced.”
Her mouth dropped open but quickly closed. “Why should I be protected from the realities of life? I think more young ladies should be shown the real world. We could work to try and make it better.”
“How would you do that?”
“However I could. I could ask my brother to talk about reforms in the House of Lords. I could support initiatives like my sister does. Raise money for charity. At least I will have tried. Doing nothing changes nothing.”
He loved her optimism and wondered how long she would have this passion when year after year nothing changed. The poor were always poor, and the strong took advantage of the weak.
She must have read his face for she added, “We can only do what we can do. Even if I only help one child I would be happy. I’m pleased we have saved Claire, for instance.”
He loved her for that. “That is admirable, but you can save more people if you are careful with both your life and your reputation. How will you raise money if society turns their back on you, and if you get involved with me they surely will—and your family will too. Then where would we both be? I’ve lived on the streets. I never intend to go there again.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being truthful with me. Most gentlemen rarely speak the truth.”
He should have pointed out that he wasn’t a gentleman, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
She moved then, and he felt her absence immediately. “I will go back to my room and sleep but I know I shall dream of you.” She turned at the door. “I’m not giving up—on the orphans or us. Now sleep. If Glover is seeking revenge we need you fighting fit as soon as possible. I shall leave in the morning, but I will be requesting daily updates on your progress. If I hear that you are not following Blake’s instructions I shall return to stay—safety and my reputation be damned.”
* * *
—
The next morning he woke up to bright sunlight and knew Helen was already gone. The pain was duller this morning, and he took that as a sign his wound was healing.
For the first time he wanted something other than chicken broth to eat. Perhaps he could get up to break his fast. He remembered Helen’s threat to return if he did not follow instructions so he asked for a lad to help him bathe.
Blake finally turned up around midday and agreed to let him eat more than soup. “It’s a good sign that you are hungry.”
“I’m also hungry for news. Where’s Richard?”
Blake sighed. “He’s doing what you asked. Trying to get a lead on Glover.” His eyes narrowed at Clary. “Just because you’re feeling better you’re not to try and get up. That wound needs more time.”
“How much time? I don’t have time. Glover could already be leaving London and setting up elsewhere.”
Blake helped Clary sit up straighter by plumping up his pillows. “Why is it so important to capture him? You saved the children he had taken and closed his operation down. Normally that would be enough for you. You and I both know taking Glover off the streets won’t change anything. Someone else will take his place.”
Helen’s words floated in his head. We can only do what we can do.
“I want to ensure Glover can never set up anywhere else. I want to do what I can to protect the world from animals like him. That’s all each of us can do.”
Blake looked at him and nodded. “That sounds like something Lady Helen would say. I never thought you’d have any hope back in your life but she’s changing you. And for the better. A life without love or hope—well you might as well be dead.”
For the first time in a very long time, Clary was thankful he’d survived. A life of working with Helen, of seeing her every day, was enough.
It was only when he’d managed to get dressed and go downstairs a day later that he knew he’d lied to himself. Having tasted her and touched her, only seeing Helen would never be enough.
He wasn’t stupid. One day he would have to stand aside and watch from the s
hadows as Helen married and started life away from him.
Still, that terrible prospect was in the future and he intended to make the most of the time he’d been blessed with, to drink her into his soul before he watched her walk away.
Chapter 9
Lady Helen stood near the refreshment table at Lady Grimshaw’s ball. She tried to pay attention to what her best friend, Lady Angela, was saying, but all she could think about was that Clary was to start back at Marisa’s the day after tomorrow. Clary had moved home two days ago but there was no way she could visit him at his bachelor accommodations.
She kept busy working most mornings in Marisa’s study, putting a plan in place to raise money so she could become the patron of more orphanages just like Marisa.
Marisa had not said much about her extended stay in Southwark except that it was a tad too long as far as her reputation was concerned. Her absence luckily had gone unnoticed by her brother and society at large. Helen did not ask after Clary. Wisely as it turned out, because her sister was quite intuitive.
Helen was bursting to talk with her sister about the kiss she had shared with Clary. For some reason she held back. Would Marisa approve? She didn’t want to risk the answer as it could mean she would be unable to keep working with him.
If she was too scared to tell her sister, it made her a hypocrite. Clary kept saying society would not approve and she kept saying it didn’t matter. But it did. And her heart broke not knowing how to fix that. Why couldn’t she fall in love with whomever she wanted?
Life was unfair. And as Clary said, life always would be.
A flush washed her already heated body as she wished for the millionth time she could speak to him. And tomorrow she would. He was returning to his employ.
“I say, Helen. Are you flushing because of the looks Lord Fairfax is sending your way? He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he arrived.”
A Dream of Redemption Page 8
