Winning Lord West

by Anna Campbell

  She wasn’t a stupid woman, although right now, she feared she’d been fatally stupid about West. Before he spoke, she knew what he was going to say. Although she still couldn’t fathom how everything could shift in mere days.

  “I mean that I’ve changed my mind.” His deep voice was toneless. He didn’t sound at all like the man who had slept by her side and caressed her until she cried out in ecstasy. “I won’t marry you, Helena.”

  Although his manner already hinted at that answer, she recoiled. Having her heart crushed beneath his boot heel hurt like the very devil. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wouldn’t cry. It would be too humiliating.

  She couldn’t help but remember the afternoon in the summerhouse. She’d never trusted anyone so deeply. She’d never felt so happy.

  Her nails bit into her palms as she struggled for control. Crewe had taught her all about disappointment and loneliness and shame. This should be more of the same.

  Except it wasn’t.

  Because she’d soon realized that her so-called love for Crewe was only adolescent romanticism, allied with his dedicated pursuit of her—and her dowry. Whereas her bond with West was real.

  Or at least she’d believed it was.

  Mustering her ragged courage, she squared her shoulders. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

  “Yes.” That muscle in his cheek continued its erratic dance. He looked uncomfortable and miserable and strained.

  Which also struck her as strange. This couldn’t be the first time a libertine like West had dismissed an incompatible lover. He should be better at it.

  Her brain scurried for explanations. Only one reason occurred to her, and it made her feel like vomiting. “Is it…”

  Helena broke off. It seemed blasphemous to say the words outside a church, but she had to know. When she’d taken him into her mouth, she’d felt so free and brave. But men were bizarre creatures. Perhaps he saw her actions in a different light.

  She steeled herself to ask the question. “Did I give you a disgust of me, when I—”

  His features tightened in dismay, and he reached out convulsively. But he stopped before making contact and curled his hands over the bench again. “No. Good God, no. That was one of the most glorious experiences of my life.”

  At least he no longer sounded like a bored roué rejecting an unpromising courtesan. She stared into his face, and at last her sharp mind kicked into its usual efficient action. Whatever lay behind this lunatic decision, it wasn’t because he’d tired of her.

  Just now he’d betrayed himself. She’d glimpsed hunger and longing, and something that looked very much like self-hatred.

  Now his expression was shuttered, and he stared over her right shoulder as if the old stonework was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

  She sucked in a breath of freezing air and forced herself to think, instead of feel. Feeling wouldn’t help her here.

  Four days ago, everything between them had been perfect. So whatever the problem, it had arisen since he’d collapsed with fever.

  Helena strove for calmness. “If you don’t want to marry me, we’ll do as you suggested, and go on as lovers.”

  That caught his attention. He stared at her as if she was mad. “That’s not possible.”

  West seemed determined to make an operatic drama out of their affair. She was equally determined to drag him back to reality. And the reality was that they belonged together, even if she’d taken far too long to admit that.

  “Why not?” She shrugged with manufactured insouciance. “Although we may run into trouble when you choose a bride. After all, you need an heir.”

  Deep lines ran between his nose and mouth. “I doubt I’ll ever marry.”

  She frowned as explanations for his behavior, none related to wanting to move on from her, hurtled through her mind. She wasn’t experienced with dalliance, but nor was she a fool. She couldn’t help remembering a man barely able to crawl who had struggled out of his sickbed to protect her good name.

  “That seems a pity.” Holding West’s gaze, she rose and, daring the bristling hostility, sat beside him. “What about the title?”

  He slid away, but she hadn’t left him much room to maneuver. “I have cousins aplenty.”

  “That’s a mercy, then,” she said with assumed cheerfulness. She inched along the seat until her hip bumped his.

  He eyed her warily, winged brows lowered in displeasure. “Must you sit so close?”

  “It’s cold.” She caught his gloved hand in hers.

  “So why not head up to the house?” He vibrated with tension, but didn’t break free. “There’s nothing for you here.”

  How wrong could a man be? “I’m waiting for you to tell me why you wanted me one day, and you can’t abide me the next. It doesn’t seem like you.”

  Despite lack of encouragement, her senses expanded to his nearness. The lemon soap he used. Beneath that, the musky scent of his skin. The warmth of his body. She’d felt glacially cold when he’d tried to send her away, but now frail hope warmed her blood.

  Dear God, don’t let her be wrong.

  “That’s rakes for you,” he said.

  If he meant to sound like the heartless debauchee she’d once believed him to be, he failed. She raised his hand and rubbed her cheek against his knuckles. “Maybe, but I know now I misjudged you all these years. You’re a man of steady affections, unshakable loyalty, and the highest honor.”

  This time he did wrench away, despite her best efforts to cling to him. He stumbled to his feet and stared at her angrily. “What’s this, Hel?”

  As she studied him, tentative hope firmed, and settled hard and sure inside her. “I’m saying I know your game.”

  He scowled. “This is no game. Our affair is over. I’m sending you away.”

  She glowered back. “I won’t go.”

  He flinched as though she’d hit him. “Have you no pride?”

  It was her turn for an unamused laugh. “Of course. Too much.” She shot him a straight look. “But unlike you, I’m not stupid with pride.”

  His expression turned shifty, which bolstered her optimism that she was on the right track. “You’re talking utter rubbish.”

  She folded her gloved hands in her lap and fixed him with an unwavering regard. “No, you are. You should know me by now, West. I’m steadfast and true. For pity’s sake, I remained faithful to that swine Crewe. Now I’ve chosen you, and I won’t be fobbed off.” Impatience roughened her tone. “As if your illness makes a shred of difference to my affection.”

  More than affection. But while she was brave, she wasn’t brave enough to set her whole heart out before him. Not when she still wasn’t sure whether he meant to surrender, or crush all her chances of happiness. And all his chances, too, the stiff-necked wretch.

  A long, prickling silence extended.

  Suspense tightened her belly until bile rose in her throat. Was she wrong? Had she pushed him too far?

  Then he dragged in a shuddering breath. He slumped as the resistance drained out of him. And with it, the rage-fueled vigor.

  Relief flooded her, and she leaped to her feet, helping him back to the bench. “Should I fetch someone?”

  “A keeper to take you away and lock you up,” he said, although the words lacked venom. He leaned against her, heavy and trembling and dear.

  She wasn’t complaining. At least they’d bridged the cruel distance. She turned her head to kiss the ruffled dark hair. “Make your heroic declaration of self-denial. Then I can argue it away, and we can get on with the rest of our lives.”

  Despite physical discomfort, a grunt of laughter escaped him. “You’re bloody sure of yourself.”

  “That’s your fault.” Her embrace tightened. “You make me feel like a goddess.”

  “I should have been more careful,” he muttered, but his arm snaked around her waist to draw her closer. “It’s all very well to sound so confident. I saw doctors in Russia, and again in L
ondon. These fevers could go on for the rest of my life. There’s no cure. I might get better, but it’s quite possible I won’t.”

  She’d been right about what troubled him. Relief made her dizzy, but she stiffened her shoulders against any weakness. The fight wasn’t over yet. “So like a gallant fool, you decided to fall on your sword, and throw me to the wolves for good measure?”

  He shifted to level somber green eyes on her. “You deserve my best.”

  Heaven save her from stubborn masculine pride. “And it didn’t occur to you to share these ramshackle ideas?”

  “I know your stalwart soul, Helena. I’ve known it all my life. You’d insist on standing by me.”

  “Now who’s sure of himself?”

  “I know you’ve…become attached. It seemed easier to let you go back to thinking I’m a worthless cad.”

  “Easier for whom?”

  “Hating me helped you cope with Crewe’s betrayals. I thought it might help again this time.” Obstinacy squared his jaw. She realized with a sinking feeling that she hadn’t won yet, although victory hovered close. “I can’t bear to be a burden on you.”

  “So your vanity is more important than my happiness?”

  “Vanity?” he snapped, sounding much more like himself.

  Fear that even now, she still might fail, added an edge to her voice. A wonderful future opened up before them. She could see that so clearly. Why in Hades couldn’t he?

  “Yes. Vanity. I don’t care if you’re ill—oh, that’s not right, of course I care—but it doesn’t change my feelings. In the past days, you’ve brought me alive. Surely you know that.” Tears stung her eyes, and this time she didn’t force them back. “For heaven’s sake, West, don’t let your conceit shut me away in the dark.”

  “I was right—you do intend to stand by me. Blast you, I won’t have it. I won’t tie you to a wreck of a man.”

  “You’re not a wreck of a man.” A tear trickled down her cheek. How things had changed. Once he’d been so certain, and she’d been the one to hold out. “You’re everything I want.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “A week ago, you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

  “Well, now I can’t go on without you. If you’re intent on self-sacrifice, be self-sacrificing by my side. I’m not the easiest person in the world.” She yielded the very last of her own pride. “Lover or wife, I don’t care which. As long as we stay together.”

  A familiar mulish expression settled on his features. “No. I want to marry you.”

  More relief rose to choke her. She caught his intense, dark face between her hands and met eyes still brimming with uncertainty. “Then don’t consign us both to a lonely life, just because you sometimes get the shakes.”

  He studied her. “Helena, I’m trying to do the right thing.”

  She dredged up a smile. “Then make an honest woman of me. Really, Lord West, have you no scruples?”

  Reluctant amusement tugged at his lips. “More than I ever realized. But you seem to have talked me out of most of them.”

  Closing her eyes, she sent a thankful prayer heavenward. She was terrifyingly aware of how close she’d come to losing him. “Really?”

  “Really.” The clumsy eagerness in his kiss showed as nothing else could that he was hers at last.

  By the time he raised his head, she was befuddled and happy and shaking. Sniffing, she fumbled for a handkerchief in the satin reticule tied to her wrist.

  “My dear Lady Crewe—” With difficulty, West shifted out of her arms and dropped to one knee before her.

  Immediately she forgot what she was looking for. “Get up, West. That stone’s too cold for you.”

  Despite her efforts to avoid him, he caught her hands. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be a nagging wife.”

  “Probably.” She tried to break free. “I’ll take the romantic proposal as read.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “For a decrepit ruin, you’re very highhanded,” she grumbled.

  “You had your chance to run, and you didn’t take it.” His tight grip contradicted the humor. “My dear Lady Crewe—”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. Now be quiet and listen, curse you.” His voice lowered to a velvety sincerity that made her tremble. “My dear Lady Crewe, I’ve long admired your beauty and kindness.” He ignored her soft snort. “You are everything a man could want in a lifelong partner. I’ll count myself the most fortunate of men if you accept me as your husband.”

  “I will,” she said quickly.

  “There’s more.”

  She leaned down and kissed him. She’d expected resistance, but his mouth was eager. When she raised her head, her heart overflowed with happiness. “I don’t need pretty words.”

  “Yes, you do.” He raised her hands to his lips. “Helena, I’m not the perfect choice.” He ignored the emphatic shake of her head, disagreeing with him. “Life will send us challenges. But you’re the bravest and best woman I know, and I swear I’ll cherish you until the day I die.”

  Oh, dear. A lump settled in Helena’s throat, and moisture turned her vision misty. She should have found that handkerchief while she had the chance.

  “Maybe I do need pretty words after all.” She curled her fingers around his and struggled for the answer he deserved. “West, I pledge myself to you. I’ll be proud to be your wife. Nobody has ever made me as happy as you have today.”

  This time the kiss lasted much longer, and ended in the two of them entwined on the narrow bench. West no longer objected to her crowding him.

  When he tucked her under his chin, she’d never felt so safe in her life. “The others will be pleased that we’ve made up our difficulties.”

  Helena gave a gurgle of laughter. “I have a suspicion they already know. My fellow Dashing Widows have an uncanny ability to sniff out a wedding in the wind.”

  “Now the Dashing Widows will all be cherished wives.” Despite the wedding breakfast, he seemed content to linger in the shadowy porch. “Will you miss your wild ways, my darling?”

  “My dear Lord West, how very wrong you are.” She raised her head to meet his glowing eyes. “My dashing days have only just begun.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  West stood behind Helena on the steps of Woodley Park. Below them, Silas and Caro stepped into their traveling carriage in a flurry of farewells. But West’s attention wasn’t on his best friend and his bride. Instead his thoughts dwelled on the glorious woman who had at last consented to be his wife. His younger self had been wiser than his years when he’d set his sights on Silas’s pretty sister.

  How miraculous that in such a short space, despair could transform to joy. He’d been convinced that he was a hopeless invalid with nothing to offer her. And these last days with her had confirmed something he’d always known—that Helena deserved the best of everything.

  While he mightn’t be the best, he swore by everything he held holy that he’d do his best by her. Her hope was contagious. He felt better already.

  By God, he’d beat this damned fever. He had something to live for now.

  He stepped closer to catch the drift of her scent. Damn him if this surreptitious connection didn’t give him an illicit thrill.

  She cast him a quick glance, one knowing flash of bright, black eyes. Under cover of crimson skirts, her fingers tangled with his. Odd that her presence lent his soul such peace. She wasn’t by nature a peaceful woman.

  Of course if he announced their betrothal, there would be no need for subterfuge. An engaged couple holding hands might rouse interest but little disapproval, especially on such a romantic occasion. But this was Caro and Silas’s day, however much West longed to shout hallelujahs and turn somersaults. He’d have the banns called next Sunday, but for now, his betrothal remained a delicious secret between Helena and him.

  He leaned forward. “Can you slip away?”

  She didn’t look back, but her grip on his hand tightened. “Once
I’ve made an appearance at the staff dinner, and farewelled the guests leaving today. Any family staying on can amuse themselves this afternoon, I’m sure. And Mary or Sally can play hostess if need be.”

  “Come to my room.”

  “Someone will see.”

  “Not if they’re all cuddled up in their own rooms.”

  “What about Amy?”

  She wouldn’t see his smug smile. “Ah, I’ve planned a treat for your inquisitive little sister. She’s got an appointment at Shelton Abbey to talk to my agent about crop rotation.”

  Helena muffled a laugh. Not well enough. Her Great Aunt Agnes cast her a curious glance. “How Machiavellian. She’ll be in alt. The poor fellow won’t get away until midnight.”

  “Suits me.” West inhaled her fragrance and felt her shiver with awareness. “I’ve missed you.”

  Helena directed a sharp eye at her elderly relative as she murmured, “Give me an hour.”

  “An hour will feel like eternity.”

  The familiar wry smile twisted her lips. “Goodness me, West. Are you sure you’re feeling better? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

  He shrugged, unashamed of his ardor. “You’ve rumbled my secret. Under my rakish manners, I’m a sentimental fellow, my darling.”

  With visible reluctance, Great Aunt Agnes shifted her attention to Caro and Silas, who waved as their carriage rolled down the drive. But West predicted when he announced his betrothal, few would be caught unawares. Great Aunt Agnes was an inveterate gossip.

  With everyone’s backs turned, West dared to lift Helena’s fingers to his lips. “Don’t be too long, sweetheart.”

  ***

  At the soft click of his bedroom door, West sprang from the chair where he’d been trying to read. Trying and failing. How could printed words occupy him, when he waited in a lather of impatience for Helena?

  The moment she stepped inside, he caught her up against him for a famished kiss. Fumbling to shut the door, he pressed her back until she bumped into the wooden panels.

  He was starved for her, and still not quite convinced that they’d won through to a happy ending. Only this morning, he’d been sure she was lost to him forever. The few kisses outside the church hadn’t come near to quenching his mighty need.