Page 104 of The Wolf of Mayfair
Wingrave narrowed his eyes on her and removed his hand from her person, denying her body the pleasure she sought.
Good, let her. He didn’t need a bloody goodbye. He’d be better off. His hands would finally be clean of her, and she’d be someone else’s problem—hismother’s.
You’re a bloody liar. You’ve not only become accustomed to having her near, you hunger for her.With her innocence, fiery spirit, and strength, she’d imprinted upon him.
Nor, for that matter, was Helia truly the duchess’s problem. Her Grace may have maintained a secret friendship with a Scottish woman through the years, but the Duke of Talbert would never countenance having a spirited, red-haired, heavily freckled Scot amongst them.
No, the duchess had challenged the duke but once—at Wingrave’s wedding ceremony to Lady Alexandra. The day Dallin McQuoid had stepped forward and objected to the union on account of hisfeelingsfor Lady Alexandra, Wingrave’s mother had lent her support to the love match. That bold showing had seen the duchess banished by the duke for the rest of the London Season—and a vow on His Grace’s part to send her to a madhouse were she to stage any further displays of rebellion.
Helia took advantage of Wingrave’s tumultuous ponderings. She hastily drew the panel open.
She managed to get only a foot in the hall before Wingrave shot an arm around her waist and drew her back inside and against him.
“The hell you’ll leave,” Wingrave rasped harshly against her ear. She belonged to him and only him.
“What do you want, Anthony?” she pleaded, and that crack in her composure made him feel a way he didn’t want to look too closely at, and certainly didn’t want tofeel.
“The duchess will not help you,” he scoffed.
“Why are ye being so cruel?”
“I’m cruel by nature, my dear, but in this instant, I’m giving you only the blunt truth, Helia.” He jerked his head back, toward the letters her mother had written his.
“Do you truly believe, given the fact she said nothing at all about your mother to anyone, that she’ll freely own a connection to the departed woman’sdaughter?”
A fierce and welcome fury surged through her sadness. “Do you truly believe I can go to your mother now?” she cried. “As you predicted from the start, my reputation is ruined ... and I have no place to turn.” Her misery-tinged outburst echoed around the room, and this first real display of hopelessness in the always naively optimistic miss jolted him to the core.
Helia stepped out of his arms, and with her head held high, she left.
As she glided, all in white, like a specter wandering the halls of Horace House, Wingrave stared after her proudly retreating figure, transfixed.
Lust fired in his veins. Like that great untamed king of the jungle, Wingrave filled his lungs with the heavy scent of sex that lingered in the room.
Even on her own and without any options or anywhere to turn, over and over she’d proven intrepid. She possessed an imperial fearlessness and courage that set her apart from every other woman he’d ever known and would ever know.
Never had he wanted to possess any woman. But then, only Helia had revealed an indomitable spirit that marked her as his ideal mate. It was why, from the very start, he’d not turned her away from his foyer.
It was why he’d let her remain and cared for her when she’d faltered and fallen ill. Like a savage in the jungle, he’d possessed an inherent, animalistic knowing that Helia Wallace belonged to him, and he was the one to safeguard her.
His gaze slid over to the desk where he’d buried his mouth in Helia’s muff and wrung another climax from her sweet lips.
His breathing grew shallower; his pulse throbbed in his veins. He wanted to fuck her whenever he wished, which would also be whenever she wished, because he’d keep her so sated, she’d never tire of the feel of him between her legs.
Yes, he needed to have her. He’d never be full in control of himself unless he had a claim to her. Not just her body.
He wanted her in every way, and he would have her. He’d have her body and soul, so she belonged to him and only him.
For too long he’d failed to see the truth laid bare before him. She was the only woman strong enough and courageous enough to be his partner and wife.
He’d rectify that prodigious error.
Growling, Wingrave quit his mother’s office, and set off in hot pursuit of the one he sought.
Like a beast with the scent of his mate compelling him, Wingrave beat a quick path along the route Helia would have taken to her chambers.
The moment he reached her rooms, he didn’t even stop; he tossed her door open.
Helia, in nothing more than a new chemise, and poised with a knee on the bed, gasped. She remained frozen with her nightskirts rucked about her knees.
