Page 28 of The Wolf of Mayfair
“The prediction being my name?” he drawled.
“In this case.” She gave his fingers a little squeeze, as if to pull the information she sought out of him.
“What proper Scottish lady reads and quotes the great essayist Edward Gibbon?” he mocked.
“Thesamelady whose parents wished her to be well read in many topics.”
They stared at one another—again at an impasse.
He’d hand it to her. If he were in the habit of admiring people, with the unswerving way her gaze held his, she’d have been one he admired.
Helia peered up at him, and when he offered only an answering silence, she sighed. “I am going to find out your name, Lord Wingrave. And not only that, I wager the very generous offer of hospitality you tendered that you’re going to freely give it.”
“You shall be waiting until the cow comes home,” he said dryly.
She waggled her eyebrows. “Ah, a Highland cow, unlike a Sassenach one, is a friendly sort. They never fight, and also enjoy the company of humans.”
She was making that up. He wanted to say so, but the twinkle in her eyes indicated she both knew and waited for that retort.
He grated his jaw. God, what was it about this minx that got his thoughts all topsy-turvy?
The lady sighed, and then with her two hands, she took his right palm in her own and forced a shake. “I’m so very happy to be growing our friendship.”
Growing their friendship?
He flashed a cool smile. “I thought you’d already declared us friends, Miss Wallace.”
“Ah, wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow-ripening fruit.”
Quoting Gibbon and now Aristotle. He sought to mask his surprise.
The women he kept company with had many years on Helia Wallace. They favored the baubles he bestowed, in exchange for anemotionless connection where he sated his baser urges. Every last woman he’d had any association with read the gossip pages, and not a thing more.
And others? His mother and sister indulged in tawdry, melodramatic gothic novels, certainly not Gibbon and Greek philosophers.
All the while, through his quiet shock, Helia stared at him with warm, friendly eyes.
This was too much.Shewas too much.
Growling, Wingrave anchored an arm around her waist and drew her close so she could feel the stiff line of his cock.
She gasped, but did not pull away.
“Do you feel that, Helia?” he whispered jeeringly against her ear.
Wingrave rubbed his shaft in a slow circle over the flat of her belly. Her eyes went wide, and her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.
“Feel how hard I am for you, sweet?” He pressed himself against her stomach. “Does this put you in mind of friendship?”
At her silence, he licked at her neck and lightly nipped that damp spot, marking her.
A little moan spilled from her lips and Wingrave grinned.
She wanted him.
Of course she did.
His smile faded.
