Winning Lord West (8 page)

“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.

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.