Page 123 of The Wolf of Mayfair
She shivered with a shameful ebullience.
He raked a savage gaze over her. “Come, love,” he said in gravelled tones. “Let me show you what I’ve been up to.”
Anthony placed her fingers in the crook of his elbow. She allowed herself to be led by him.
As they walked, Helia took in their surroundings.
Then Anthony brought them to a stop. Her stomach clenched, and Helia stared, unblinking, at the shore like she passed a horrific carriage accident.
She closed her eyes, but the onslaught of memories and emotions overwhelmed her senses.
The only thing I may be persuaded to do is place you over my knee, toss your skirts up, and redden your stubborn arse ... In fact, I would enjoy that task immensely.
We shall see which of us wins this battle of the wills, Miss Wallace ... And I must confess, I’ve found myself beginning to enjoy your feistiness.
“Look at me, Helia.”
Anthony’s gratingly harsh command penetrated the hell of that day.
She forced her eyes open.
“Why have you brought me here?” she asked thickly.
He caught her by the shoulders and drew her close. His indomitable gaze speared Helia’s unsteady one.
“The man who dared to touch you stole ownership of that day and your happiness.” Fire burned from within the deep-blue depths of his fathomless eyes. “No one”—he gave her a slight gentle shake—“shall take anything from you. Tonight, with me at your side, you reclaim what he took. You will purge him from your thoughts, Helia, so only the memory of your time with me lives in their place.”
The ferocity of that decree stole all the breath from her body.
“You are ready,” he proclaimed on Helia’s behalf.
And she was. With Anthony at her side, she found herself steadied by his words and formidable presence.
“I am ready,” she confirmed.
He grunted his approval.
Together they went. The closer they got, Helia evaluated the frozen Thames through lenses devoid of fear.
This winter wonderland was a place she’d been before. But at the same time, this frozen part of London was discrepant in every way. Where before the provisional fairground had rung out with the loud, joyful resonance of festivalgoers, now a tranquil peace remained in its stead.
And yet, the sweet, pleasant smell of roasted chestnuts and freshly baked bread filled the air; those scents mingled with the inordinately loud call of peddlers offering their goods.
The rough, playful whine of fiddles combined with wassailers singing a quick tempo rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” lent a cheer that managed to further drive back any dark remembrances.
At last they reached the edge of the ice.
Dazed, Helia stopped and looked about. “Where are all the people?”
“Aside from those who work the event, you and I are the only ones here, Helia.”
Helia whipped her head up to look at Anthony; she searched for signs he jested—only there were none. His features remained as coolly implacable as ever.
“The only way to ensure we are in control of any and all memories made this day is to erase everyone from the equation,” he explained.
He’d closed down the whole Frost Fair so only she and he could be here.
Tears clogged her throat and blurred her vision. “You did this for me?” she whispered.
