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 min
d 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.
Chapter Six
Helena gulped for air and curled her hands into the sheets beneath her. The opulent room turned suffocating. And tiny.
While West seemed terrifyingly…large.
“Dear heaven…” she croaked from a mouth that felt drier than a desert. She couldn’t look away from the stiff column of flesh rising between his legs.
West laughed. “Hel, don’t tell me you’ve never seen a naked man before.”
She couldn’t mistake his affectionate amusement. The traitorous warmth in her chest became harder to deny. She licked parched lips and managed to squeak out, “Crewe didn’t look like you.”
West’s eyebrows rose. “I assure you I’m perfectly normal. Well, apart from the damned fever I picked up in the Crimea, but that hasn’t changed my basic anatomy.”
“I’m going to faint,” she said in a thready voice.
“Never. Not my stalwart Helena.”
How she wished she shared his confidence. Although sparking excitement underlay her trepidation. Excitement and curiosity. And something that could be need.
Despite her best efforts, the hand she stretched toward him trembled. “Show me.”
He covered the distance in a single stride and caught her in his arms. As he lowered her to the bed, his touch swept away all misgivings.
He kissed her ravenously and set out to explore her body, learning every line and hollow. When his fingers trailed between her legs, her thighs fell open. What point playing coy when she ached with desire?
A sound of satisfaction emerged from his throat as he bent to take her nipple between his lips. Sensation assaulted her from two directions at once, and every muscle contracted in response. Nothing Crewe had done could compare to these shuddering reactions.
And West had barely started.
He stroked her cleft and lingered on a sensitive place that sent lightning streaking through her. She whimpered as a liquid surge greeted his daring caresses. Her heart hammered against her ribs, as if it fought to break free.
The tension rose higher and higher as he tormented that small, secret pearl. She squirmed. The pleasure sharpened until it approached pain. She gasped when he slid one long finger into her, adding to the giddy mix.
“Let it happen, Hel.” He raised his head from her breast and stared at her. “Don’t fight me.”
She gasped as her body stretched to accept two seeking fingers. “Fight you?” She couldn’t contain an unsteady laugh. “I’m positively begging.”
Something flashed in his eyes that struck her as important. If only she could read it. “You’re pure gold. You always have been.”
He curled his fingers inside her and stroked a place that set her quaking. Yet still what she wanted remained out of reach.
It had been like this with Crewe. He’d take her so far, then while he found release, she’d stay teetering on the brink. She dug her fingernails into West’s arms in a silent plea not to leave her behind.
“It won’t work,” she gasped. “I think it’s going to, then—”
He kissed her, and the touch of his lips soothed the demons. “Trust me.”
“Crewe was right. There’s something wrong with me.”
“Damn it, there’s nothing wrong with you, except the man you chose to marry.”
West kissed her again, until she forsook self-doubt and yielded. His fingers moved in and out of her with a hard, regular rhythm that made her shake. Each time he withdrew, the heel of his hand pressed on her mound and fire shot through her. Craving spiraled tighter and tighter, until surely she must snap into pieces.
Fulfillment still hovered too far off. As release evaded her, stinging tears seeped from her eyes. She couldn’t do it. Even with West, even wanting him so desperately.
“Curse you, you’ll get there,” he snarled, urgency roughening his voice. He changed the angle of his caresses and lowered his head to the curve between her neck and shoulder.
As he bit down hard, pain and pleasure collided in a fiery crash. Helena cried out in wonder. The world shattered around her, and she crossed the barrier into glory.
Free. She was finally free. And swooping and dipping and rolling among the stars. The view from paradise was extraordinary. As her blood lit to unquenchable fire, she shivered and squirmed. And as she wafted down from that blazing peak, even the embers were beautiful.
After a long time, she opened dazzled eyes to see West beside her, leaning on his elbow. A lazy smile hovered around his lips.
She rose to kiss him with all the poignant gratitude she felt.
He looked startled. “What was that for?”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
She struggled for some way to describe the experience. “That was even better than a good gallop.”
He burst out laughing and flopped back onto the sheets. “Hel, you’re priceless.”
Helena frowned, although she felt too marvelous for genuine displeasure. For years, she’d closed more and more of herself away, until a hard little ball of hurt and hate and self-pity lodged in her chest instead of a heart. Those miraculous moments when West had set her flying let her breathe for the first time since she was a carefree girl. “And you’re a lunatic.”
His green eyes glittered as he sucked in an unsteady breath. “No argument there.” Another breath. “Actually that counts as high praise from horse-mad Helena Nash.”
He�
�d used her maiden name. As if they returned to those sweet days when she’d been in his thrall. Before she’d decided dark, dangerous Lord Crewe was the most exciting man she’d ever met.
How tragically wrong she’d been.
“It was a compliment,” she said.
“I’m sure.” His tone was dry.
He rose above her and kissed her with a serious intent that his tone belied. His legs tangled with hers, and his hips pressed her into the mattress with sensual purpose. She shifted and felt his powerful hardness against her belly. Interest sparked anew, although surely she’d received her measure of delight.
When he stroked her slick cleft, she raised her knees. She didn’t expect more of that transcendent pleasure, but she didn’t mind. She wanted West inside her. She wanted to offer him a share of the delight he’d given her.
His back tensed under her hands, then with a smoothness she hardly believed, he thrust inside her.
“West,” she gasped in shock, opening her eyes wide. He looked powerful and intent—and strained. At last she saw how the leisured seduction had tested his control.
He rested on his elbows and looked down at her. “Am I hurting you?”
Helena wriggled, feeling him settle inside her, hard and purposeful. “No.”
“Not too big?”
A smile tugged at her lips. How flustered she’d been. How silly. Right now, she felt magnificently full, as though he laid claim to every inch. “Perfect.”
He kissed her again. After they’d married, Crewe hadn’t been interested in much beyond his own relief. He hadn’t wasted time on kissing.
She’d missed out.
“Hold on.”
With uncharacteristic obedience, she clutched West’s broad shoulders. His skin was hot and satiny against hers. His masculine musk imbued every breath she took. Instinctively she tightened.
His eyes darkened, and a muscle flickered in his hard cheek. “Merciful God.”
She tugged at the damp strands of hair at his nape. “Good?”
“Damn good.”
This time she contracted on purpose, and exulted in his shudder. Giving West pleasure was a pleasure. Perhaps he hadn’t been quite as unselfish with her as she’d credited. She arched up to bite his neck, and he shuddered again.
Winning Lord West Page 6
