Winning Lord West (7 page)

“You?” What a woman she was. He wanted to
give three cheers.

Her lips curled in bloodthirsty
self-satisfaction. “After that, he took me seriously.”

“The worm. I’ll make it up to you.”

She laughed without amusement. “You don’t
have to heal every hurt, West, although it’s sweet to think the
chivalrous boy still lurks under that worldly hide.”

He winced at the word “sweet.” Between
falling at her feet like a poltroon and completely misinterpreting
her past, he was making a damned fool of himself. Something about
Helena undermined arrogance. Worse, he wanted to protect and
cherish her.

How she’d scoff if he admitted that.

“I always wished you well.”

Her memorable features softened into true
beauty. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long to forgive you.”

West released a breath that he felt he’d held
for years. Her resentment had always niggled like a stone in his
shoe. Whatever else tonight brought, he was damned grateful that at
last they reached an understanding.

“At least you have.” When he made to close in
on her, she waved her hand to keep him at a distance.

“I need to say this before we go on. Crewe
always said I’m…unnatural. It was my fault that he had to find ease
elsewhere.”

That slimy, vicious sod. “That’s self-serving
spite.”

“He could be spiteful. But…” She looked away
toward the window. “Perhaps he was right, and I’m incapable of a
woman’s response.”

Helena incapable of desire? He’d never heard
such claptrap. “You forget I’ve held you in my arms.”

“That was a long time ago.” Still she avoided
his eyes. These confidences tested her pride. “And we never…”

“You were only sixteen, and my best friend’s
sister. I have a small measure of honor.”

“Silas would have killed you.”

“Slowly and painfully. And then he’d put my
body through a mincer.” West ran his hand through his hair.
“Helena, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, apart from a
capacity to hold a grudge.”

“I hope you’re right.” He made another move.
Again she gestured him back. “I haven’t finished.”

With a theatrical sigh, he rolled his eyes.
“I was wrong. This is worse than contracting to build a new
townhouse.”

“If…if this arrangement goes ahead, I reserve
the right to end it.”

“Once you’ve satisfied curiosity?” Sourness
tinged his question. “I don’t feel like an architect anymore. I
feel like the subject of a scientific experiment.”

She didn’t smile. “You don’t have to
agree.”

“Yes, I do.” Not only because he wanted her
more than he’d wanted anything else in his life. After tonight’s
revelations, he had the strangest feeling that she needed him. Even
if she didn’t recognize it, and would never admit it if she
did.

“Because you’ve got something to prove?”

He was canny enough not to confide his
thoughts. “Maybe.”

“And you’re not to mention marriage.”

West swept a finger across his lips to
indicate they were forever sealed. “No M words.”

“I mean it.”

She didn’t trust his easy cooperation. A
smart girl, his Helena. But in this, he was at least one step ahead
of her. She’d forgotten his reputation as a negotiator. Tonight,
her concessions exceeded his most extravagant hopes. From here, he
could forge ahead and win the war.

Helena Wade didn’t know it yet, but he had
her exactly where he wished.

As if taking an oath, he raised his hand.
“For the duration of our stay at Woodley Park, I foreswear all
mention of marriage, wedding, vicar, wife, husband, nuptials,
proposals, and all similar and related terms, so help me, God.”

“You’re looking too pleased with yourself,
West.” Her tone was suspicious. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m about to kiss a lovely woman.” He strove
for a guileless expression. It didn’t come naturally. “Why
shouldn’t I be happy?”

“I know you. You’re as cunning as a rat.”

By God, she was a delight. Despite his
maneuvering, she wasn’t near defeated. The dance would go on, and
if he didn’t concentrate on every step, he’d stumble in a heap.
This edgy wooing proved devilish entertaining. The elusive Lady
Crewe was a quarry worth the pursuit. “Hardly flattering.”

“But accurate.” Her regard remained wary.
“You’ve been a slippery customer since you were in your
cradle.”

He spread his hands. “I agree to everything
you ask.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“Enough talk.” This time he ignored the
message of her raised hand and stepped close enough to catch her
smoky scent. “If I don’t kiss you in the next second, I’ll
explode.”

She searched his face for signs of deceit.
“You’re up to something. I know it.”

He caught the fluttering hands that betrayed
how flustered she was. “No more, Helena. It’s time to lay down your
guns and surrender. Close your eyes and pucker up.”

“Oh, very well, if I must,” she said, as
though fronting up to a punishment.

But she tilted her face with breathtaking
sweetness, and when he drew her into his arms, she was soft and
warm and pliant.

How 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 last 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.