Page 63 of The Wolf of Mayfair
His mouth went dry. His heart thumped in a sickening beat against his ribs.
He didn’t want her falling in love with him. He didn’t need it. He wanted only to go back to living his uncomplicated, solitary life without a worry for another person’s well-being and safety and—
It was too much.
This situation with Helia ... it had become untenable. He’d allowed her to share his residence, and in return, she’d also made him share himself with her. It’d been a mistake.Allof this.
“I am not a kind man,” he said sharply.
“I disagree, Anthony.”
She wielded his name like a mawkish endearment.
“I am a man of logic and reason,” he continued as if she’d never spoken, wishing she hadn’t.
Wingrave’s words were a reminder for himself.
He hardened his already rock-hard heart and armed himself with the remembrance of his discovery before she’d swept into the duke’s office like she was a thousand rays of sunshine and warmth.
“I’ll not be taken with you, Helia Wallace,” he said grimly.
Confusion filled her guileless eyes. “I-I didn’t believe you w-would be.”
He took her lightly by the shoulders. “I am a man who takes what he wants.”And yet, I hunger for her and didn’t slake my lust.
“That may be,” she said softly, unnervingly reading his thoughts and sending his panic spiraling, “but you didn’t take pleasure for yourself, and only gave me ...” Her cheeks went warm, and she remained unable to finish the rest of that thought.
“I decided I didn’t want you,” he lied through his cold, hard mouth. Wingrave ached for her still.
He may as well have slapped Helia for the hurt that fell across her features.
I will not let that forlorn little look bother me. I will not.Wingrave steeled himself against the signs of suffering he’d himself inflicted.
Helia moved her gaze over his face. “You’re trying to scare me,” she whispered. “You’re trying to convince me you’re an awful man.”
Did she speak those words to Wingrave? Or herself? He’d venture it was for the both of them.
He steeled his features, determined to disabuse her of all the illusions she’d erroneously developed about him. “I don’ttryto scare people. Idofrighten them.”
Helia rested her palm against his right cheek and, through her touch, conferred an embarrassingly welcome warmth. “I’m not afraid of you,” she insisted.
A short, scornful laugh left his stern lips.
“I’m not,” she insisted. “Though I suspect you’ve gone out of your way to do so, Anthony.”
He yanked his cheek from her hand, and silently regretted the loss of her delicate, butterfly-soft caress; all the while he hated himself for that weakness.
“Do not!” he growled. “Do not call me that.”
“What?” She merely moved her palms to the lapels of his jacket and smoothed her hands over them. Under her touch, his heart beat frantic and fast. “By your name?”
He glared at her.
Helia continued to pass that probing, searching stare over Wingrave, and he’d never felt more exposed and vulnerable.
“What has your life been, Anthony, that prevents you from sharing that still intimate, but most basic part of yourself? How very lonely. How very sad.”
His entire body recoiled. Shepitiedhim.
