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Nicholas drew in a long breath as he considered her challenge. Curiously, he nodded. “I have a right to secure my investment, but I’ve also placed myself in your shoes. You’re right to be suspicious. Angry, even. I’m sorry, Helen. I erred in speaking of you in terms of collateral. I don’t want to treat you as a possession.” His quiet voice resonated with a sincerity she couldn’t doubt.
“Whatdoyou want?”
“I don’t want my silver to vanish.” He looked at her in the same manner as he cradled her face, like she was precious. “I especially don’t wantyouto leave. Not when we’ve only just found each other.”
The allure of his words paralyzed her. Helen had marched unannounced into this man’s office a week ago and goaded him. For all her talk with Elijah beforehand, they couldn’t help but be themselves. By some miracle, what repelled others about her enticed Nicholas.
“You have my word of honor, and I’ve given it to your brother as well. All that is required of you whileAlacrityis under sail is to remain in England, guaranteeing your brother’s return. I expect no more; you owe no more. And while you’re in London, I promise to see to your safety.”
From the moment that Helen and Elijah had heard Nicholas’s terms, they understood the risks to her by staying. Left alone in his office to discuss the proposal, neither had shied from the topic. She couldn’t be certain of her safety, not even with his genuine-seeming reassurances. But her instincts guided her to choose the risks of staying in London over the depths of the sea.
Most of all, she trusted herself.
“Thank you, but I’m in no need of anyone’s protection. I protect myself.”
The deep sound that rumbled sensually in his throat was one of appreciation—the same as he’d growled in anticipation of the apricots. Her traitorous body responded, hands sliding up to cover his, holding him to her.
“Protect yourself, you do—and well. But the worship?” He held her face still, and his eyes roamed down her body with unveiled hunger.
She inhaled raggedly, her breasts tingling against the bodice that hugged like a second skin. Whether Madame Robillard was right concerning the exact nature of his curiosity, whatever his thoughts as he gazed at her in the blush-colored gown, he was fascinated.
His eyes lingered on the pale mounds above the satin before lifting to her face. “You place attention on the risks that surround you. But what about tenderness?”
“Tenderness?” she asked, as if the word were foreign.
He nodded. “Hmm. An exquisite flush has crept up your neck and filled your cheeks.”
Her entire life, she’d considered her propensity to blush an affliction, a weakness she couldn’t control, revealing her inner state against her will. Nicholas’s reverent tone subdued her self-reproach; his ardent expression convinced her that her own reactions weren’t an enemy to fight.
His thumbs caressed her cheeks, right over the fiery streaks he incited. “Do you honor your blushes with the same dedication you give to your defenses?”
Ensnared in the moment, she whispered her admission, “No.”
Cool air shocked her when his palm withdrew, but only for a moment. She stopped breathing as he bestowed a leisurely kiss to the center of her silky cheek. His warm, pliable lips moved closer to her ear, caressing there at the same time as his hand closed around one side of her waist.
The sound he made told her how delectable he thought her, yet he remained unhurried, and Helen clutched his lapels by the time his lips slid warmly over the bare juncture of her neck and shoulder.
Breathing hard, he moved to the other side, this time kissing his way upwards. His restraint was both emboldening and maddening. When his lips brushed the other cheek, she turned her head, wanting his mouth on hers.
He gave it to her, but without rushing. Their breath melded as his lips rubbed hers, and the tip of his tongue teased her. She sought more, and his fingers traced up her nape and into her hair.
Traces of sweetness and tartness lingered from the apricots he’d devoured, buthetasted delicious and a shudder ran through her as she discovered him. Past her own moans, she heard his, unmistakably raw. Even so, his hand pushed against her hip when she would have pressed herself against him.
“Not here,” he panted, glancing around his parents’s music room.
She swallowed, still tasting him, understanding he was right even as his presence of mind stung. He held her so that she was near—without letting her closer.
But he wasn’t unaffected; he appeared pained as he glanced down at how little space separated them. Following his gaze, Helen’s mouth parted at the wanton sight. Inches from her pale cleavage was his snug, black silk waistcoat, shot through with subtle stripes of gold the same color as his eyes. Below that, flat no longer, was the front of his trousers.
She whispered his name, the sound full of desire.
He blinked, shaking his head. “I’m a hypocrite speaking of worshipping you as you deserve, for touching you now. Here, where we can’t…”
Her hand covered his over her hip, and she looked back down at the protrusion between his legs, beckoning urgently. “Your cheeks don’t burn as mine do, but your jaw tightens. Your breath hitches. Do you give as much consideration to your own reactions as you do to others’?”
Nicholas released her, his face stark. “No.”
He turned away, gripping a side table, and she covered her own chest. Her gesture wasn’t to hide herself; needing the touch, she held her breasts through her gown, wishing it was Nicholas doing so.
Helen dropped her hands from her bodice and stared at him, still grasping the table. Intense gratitude washed over her it was now, as a widow, that she made his acquaintance…and, consequently, a new realization.
Her defenses remained intact—she was well-versed in the disappointments of trusting anyone—but she recognized that Nicholas Irons could be relied upon to deliver in certain regards. He’d produced the silver he promised.
This man not only wanted her, his wanting was like no other’s. Hewouldworship her. He would shine his attention on her mercilessly, illuminating every corner of her desires until he knew and plied them. She closed her eyes, the visceral knowledge rippling through her body.
What it would look like, feel like, she couldn’t imagine, not precisely, yet her body thrummed with the very truth of it.
