Winning Lord West (Dashing Widows 3) - Page 50

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.”

Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance
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