‘Hamlet!’ He’d never nipped her before.
If his sharp teeth hadn’t made the point, his little raspy growl did.
‘Why can’t I hear what you’re thinking? Or whatsheis thinking? Because Aunt Rowan’s hypothesis is completely barmy.’
Hamlet’s golden eyes cut past her shields, piercing deep. Maybe she didn’t want to hear what he was thinking.
‘This is ridiculous. I’m going to speak with her.’ Helena sat up, took her robe from the corner of her bed, and wrapped herself in the warm flannel. ‘Stay here.’ It was bad enough she would be wondering what Cynthia was thinking without having to wonder what her fox was saying to the woman.
She crept across the hallway, the cold floorboards hastening her steps. Pausing outside Clio’s door, a million memories spilled forth of countless nights lying on Clio’s bed with Ellie on the other side. They spent their childhoods spinning fairy tales, sharing fears, and commiserating over mothers who had sacrificed themselves on the altar of love. As they transitioned into womanhood, fairy tales became reality, and now everything was changing. Clio – Helena’s supposed partner in remaining single – had committed the worst crime. Falling in love with a man that Helena begrudgingly admitted was perfect for her. Ellie was sure to follow on her heels. She was a hopeless romantic who saw a dashing hero in every milksop swain.
She rolled her eyes, but her usual disdain lacked conviction.
‘I am dithering. And I don’t dither. This is ridiculous. I shall just push open this door, wake Cynthia from her slumber, and explain exactly why we can’t be more than just friends.’
With that decided, Helena pushed open the door, crossed the threshold, and watched her intentions be swept away in a wild river of need.
Cynthia was tangled in her sheets. Her torso was uncovered. The shift she wore, a thin white thing that glowed like a beacon in the dim room, showed evidence of her restless night. One breast spilled out, and Helena couldn’t rip her gaze away from the creamy swell of flesh tipped with a budded nipple. It was as red as Cynthia’s lips and just as enticing.
Bloody hell. I want her.
She forced her feet to move, taking a coverlet at the end of the bed, draping it over Cynthia’s body to cover her nudity, before gently gripping her shoulder and shaking her.
‘Cynthia, wake up.’
Some people woke slowly, like a gentle wave rolling onto shore. Cynthia was not one of those people.
She sat up violently, the coverlet falling off her as she nearly slammed her head into Helena’s chin.
Helena reared back and landed on her arse.
‘Who’s there!’ Cynthia looked around the room wildly before realising her intruder was heaped on the hooked rug. ‘Helena, what are you doing on the floor?’ It was then Cynthia must have realised her state of undress. She quickly adjusted her shift, then pulled the blanket back up around her shoulders. ‘What the bloody hell is going on?’
Helena tried to untangle herself from her robe and nightgown. When she gained her feet, her hair tumbled over her face, obscuring her view. She swiped it out of the way and huffed out a breath. This was not how she imagined things would unfold. But wasn’t that always the case with Cynthia?
‘I needed to speak with you.’
Cynthia squinted out the window. ‘Now? It’s still the middle of the night.’
‘Not quite. We’re on the edge of dawn.’
Rolling her eyes, Cynthia twisted to punch the cushions behind her back, added an extra one, leaned back against them and folded her arms under her breasts. If she knew how enticing she looked, hopelessly rumpled, her breasts pushed up like an offering, her eyes still soft and sleepy, she wouldn’t relax so easily in Helena’s presence. ‘The edge of dawn is still the middle of the night for any civilised woman.’
She felt feral, and wild, and hungry. And Cynthia lay before her like a feast. Whatever reasons she had for coming into her room were forgotten in the visceral need to taste her. ‘I’m not a civilised woman.’ Helena heard the desperation in her voice, but she didn’t care.
Cynthia’s gaze flowed over Helena, her pupils dilating. Whatever she saw, Helena guessed she liked it. ‘What did you wish to talk about that is so important, you must rip me from sleep?’
‘Do you want me?’ It wasn’t what she meant to say. But it’s what she needed to know.
Cynthia swallowed. Her chest rose and fell in suddenly ragged breaths. ‘Yes.’
‘Now?’
Tipping her chin up like a defiant goddess, she nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Even if it changes nothing between us?’ Because she couldn’t lie to Cynthia. And she wouldn’t risk her lust being mistaken for something more.
That’s all this is. All this can ever be.
