Page 111 of The Wolf of Mayfair
He saw that grand emotion as the greatest weakness and had fully insulated himself from all people.
Incorrectly and heartrendingly, Anthony had come to the erroneous conclusion that his loving others brought with it pain, loss, and weakness.
Helia took in a shuddery breath.
Wind knocked at the windowpanes in Mother Nature’s forlorn assent.
This time, Helia felt him before she heard him.
Anthony slid his arms over the back of the chair. “Look at you, taking over the duke’s offices,” he whispered against her ear. “My wife. My marchioness.” With each claim, he took a bite of her sensitive lobe. “My future duchess, my queen.”
With a maddening slowness, he ran his skilled hands over her body.
He still wore his fine leather riding gloves, an indication—and reminder—that he’d only just returned.
Anthony filled his palms with her breasts.
Her breath caught sharply in a telltale sign of her desire.
He chuckled, a deep, throaty rumble that indicated he knew all too well the effect he was having on her.
How easily he roused her to an all-consuming lust. And yet ... she wanted more than that.
If she let Anthony have her now, without any hesitation on her part and with no discussion of his abrupt departure today, she’d never truly be his equal.
With a strenuous effort, Helia pushed his palms away.
He grunted. A man of his talents would never be familiar with any form of rejection of his attentions. The reminder of how many women there’d been before her left her more than a little piqued.
“I prefer it here, Anthony,” she said evenly. “The view of the gardens is superior.Thatis my reason for being here.”
“Do you know where you’d prefer it more, dearest Helia?” he asked, tempting her as he slipped another hand over her breast. “In my arms. In my bed. On this desk. Hell, anywhere and everywhere.”
This time, with a far greater struggle, she gently but firmly took his wrists, so her fingers made a makeshift shackle around them.
Not that she deluded herself into believing he couldn’t or wouldn’t break that weak binding were he to so wish it. Her fingers didn’t even manage to go all the way around Anthony’s wrist.
But in this instant, he allowed her power over him and this exchange, and she loved him all the more for allowing their relationship to be one where they were equals.
“Are you cross with me, love?”
Love ...Her heart skittered a beat. This time, that endearment emerged with a softness he’d never before infused within it.
“Ye’ve been gone,” she said huskily.
Anthony stared at her for a long moment.“And?”
And she dreaded the discussion about what had sent him running but wanted to have it. “Ye left on our wedding day,” she said, a gentle rebuke.
He continued to study her, and then a flash of understanding sparked in his eyes.
Suddenly, Anthony scooped her up.
Helia emitted a squeak as he flipped their positioning so he sat enthroned upon the ducal chair and she, with her skirts rucked high about her waist, sat astride his hips.
“Oh, kitten,” he murmured, a soft smile on his hard lips. “Never tell me you believe I’ve gone to find pleasure with another woman.”
Actually, she hadn’t. She’d been far more concerned he’d gone into hiding because he’d married her and now felt stuck.
