Page 29 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
Yet tonight, sitting next to Helena in the music room ofhis parents’ rented townhome, he realized that he only had a few weeks to spend in London, and he didn’t want to waste one away from her. He enjoyed the way she would verbally spar with him. It wasn’t excessive, but enough to give him a glimpse at the passion lurking beneath her placid surface. Enough to make him fixate on their kiss at the ball. Though it had barely been a kiss, it had been enough to make him want it again, to want a deeper taste of her. As the music swirled in the air around them, he couldn’t pay attention to it because he was filled with her.
The scent of lilies wafted over to him when she politely clapped at the end of each song. A wisp of hair had come loose from her otherwise impeccable chignon. The golden curl touched the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. He could imagine how silky it would feel if he took it between his thumb and forefinger. Would she like it if he gave it a tug? Was she the type to enjoy a bit of rough play, or would she prefer touches that were soft and sensual?
Helena glanced over at him, catching him watching her. Her brow rose and the corner of her mouth tilted upward, as if she knew his thoughts. Rough, he realized. The passion he suspected lurked within her would crave a little wildness mixed in with the tenderness. He shifted with the tightening deep in his groin. Her smile tried to widen, but she bit the inside of her lip to stifle it. He nearly groaned as an ember smoldered inside him, brought to life by her attention.
The soprano hit a high note, drawing his attention to the front of the room where she stood next to the piano and accompanist. Mother had planned this evening of musical entertainment as a way to slowly ease Papa back into their social life now that his doctors had consented to allow him to leave his bed for a couple hours per day. Close friends of the family, including Helena’s parents, had been invited for the performance with a light supper to follow. The aria was beautiful, but Max could hardly concentrate enough to listen.
He kept going back to that afternoon in her home. He was certain that Helena would have kissed him again right there in the middle of her house if Huxley hadn’t interrupted them. The memory of the way she had looked at him had stayed with him all week, coming back to him during the odd moments he had alone with his thoughts. It was always accompanied by his resolve to kiss her properly before he left for New York. He’d promised her that he wouldn’t do anything untoward in this counterfeit courtship, but he’d already plotted a hundred different ways to get her alone. And each one ended with them doing a hell of a lot more than kissing.
He glanced over at her again, only to meet eyes with his mother. She sat on Helena’s other side, leaning back slightly to watch him with speculation running rampant across her face. He gave her a harsh glare, subtly indicating that she should mind her own business. Her bottom lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout, but she did as he bid her and faced forward. Lord Farthington sat in stony profile farther down the row, the fact that hehadn’tlooked over nearly as obvious as his mother’s attention. The man had to have heard about their outings this week. Max wondered if he would let his feelings about them be known tonight. Max had already concluded that he’d find another way if their courtship would make things more difficult for her charity.
A few minutes later the music came to an end, and everyone applauded while rising to stand. A pair of servants dressed in formal black and white opened the French doors that led to the adjoining room.
“Let us adjourn to the drawing room to enjoy refreshment,” Mother announced, as she accepted Papa’s arm. His father’s weight had yet to return to normal, but his color was good and his tread steady. Max resolved to escort him to his room in a quarter of an hour. The older man had already been downstairs for well over his allotted time.
As Max followed Helena down the row of chairs, he took in the nip of her waist, which flowed into the sensualflare of her hips. His hands were large, and he imagined they might almost meet if he held her about her waist as he pulled her back toward him. He would nudge against her soft bottom, which would be lush and firm, as he found his way to her. She’d be ready when he notched within her, wet and—she reached the end of the row and turned to take his arm.
Smiling up at him, she said, “I cannot decide if your heated glances are part of the ploy or real.”
He nearly stumbled over his own feet at her boldness. He loved that he never knew what she would say. Quickly finding his step, he noted the playful glint in her beautiful blue eyes. “Can’t they be both?”
Her cheeks colored prettily. “For someone else perhaps.” Facing forward, she added, “But you are Maxwell Crenshaw. Your passions are Crenshaw Iron and saving your sisters when needed.”
“You make me sound like an automaton.” He kept his voice light, but something about the remark hit him in the gut. It was true that his entire life had been about work, but that was only because running an enterprise like Crenshaw Iron demanded that sort of diligence. “But never fear, I do pursue my own interests outside of my family.”
“And what would those be?” she asked smoothly. “Accountancy and risk evaluation?”
“Horseflesh. I enjoy riding and caring for horses.” He owned several prized Thoroughbreds that he rode weekly in Central Park and in the summers at the family’s cottage in Newport.
By this time, they had reached the drawing room. She released his arm to accept a glass of champagne from a footman. He took one as well, but mainly to cover his disappointment at not having her touching him anymore. As he did, he was almost certain that she took in his legs. Her gaze settled in the general area of his thighs before movingup to his backside, except the fall of his coat would have obscured her view.
“That explains much,” she said, bringing the glass to her lips. Her eyes were filled with mischief.
A gentleman would have let the comment pass, but he couldn’t. He also didn’t claim to be a gentleman. “What does it explain?”
She blushed, having not been prepared for his challenge. “Only that your...” She hesitated over the next word before resolve settled over her features and she started again. “Your build is stronger than one might presume given your occupation.”
Heat coiled like a wound spring in his stomach. “You’ve been looking.”
Somehow her face reddened even more. She looked across the room, and without meeting his eyes, she said, “Perhaps.”
“Tease,” he whispered.
She grinned and gave a barely perceptible shrug as a couple walked by, exchanging greetings with them. When they had passed, he said in a low voice, “Before we’re interrupted, I wanted to tell you that I have good news.” He’d been waiting all evening to share it with her, though he didn’t know why it had seemed so important to tell her. Perhaps it was that she was a part of his strategy to help his sister, his accomplice.
“Oh?”
“It hasn’t been announced yet, but the company signed the contracts for the dock proposal. The first step of helping August in her new endeavor is underway.”
“Maxwell, that’s wonderful!” She truly meant it. Her eyes illuminated with joy, though she kept her voice soft. “August must be ecstatic.”
“She is.” Just watching her face as she shared in his sister’s joy made him smile.
“Could I congratulate her tomorrow? Would she be upset that I know?”
“No, I think she’d like you to know, but don’t mention it to anyone else. Papa doesn’t know yet.” He glanced to where his father sat across the room. A footman presented him with a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
“I won’t. We should raise a glass to her success.” She held up her champagne, compelling him to follow suit. After she clinked her coupe to his, she took a swallow. He couldn’t help but watch her lips press against the glass, remembering that all-too-brief kiss and wondering when they would repeat it, because he knew that it would happen.
