Page 95 of The Wolf of Mayfair
How peculiar. Even in rest, Anthony managed to confer a consolation that all would be well. Even though she knew he’d despise it were he to know, in Anthony, Helia felt ... safe and protected.
Despite his often-crass words and cynical sneers, at every turn, time and time again, he’d cared for her.
He—
A low, resonant rumble started in his chest, and then Anthony emitted an unmistakable but immensely endearing snore.
As though angry he’d nearly awakened himself, Anthony frowned and stirred faintly in his sleep.
She held her breath until his own, once more, settled into a smooth, even pattern.
Helia’s lips turned at the corners in a smile. Why, he managed to be cross with even himself.
Anthony’s big, broad form shifted under Helia. That slightly restless repositioning sent a loose black strand falling over his brow and lent him an even softer, more approachable air.
Helia melted inside.
She closed her eyes.
I am not falling in love with him. I ... love him.
Helia waited for the dread that discovery should bring. Terror, however, did not come.
Rather, she found herself filled with an absolute sense of calm. Nay, not calm. Rightness. From the moment he’d met her in that foyer, barefoot and filled with fury, there’d existed something between them.
At least on her part.
She chewed at her lower lip.
Except time and time again he’d shown he felt something for her. That was, somethingotherthan annoyance and disdain. Those were the only emotions he allowed himself to reveal with his eyes and words.
With hisactions, however, he showed the manner of man he truly was: one who’d venture out on a cold winter day and, like a knight of old, champion a lady in peril.
And the way he’d touched her and kissed her ...
An increasingly familiar ache built between her legs. She yearned to shift and squirm in a bid to relieve some of that pressure, but she bit her lip and fought the urge so as to not wake him.
Surely a man could not do the things to her that Anthony had and not feel some affection and regard for her.
When he’d rubbed his erection through his trousers, he’d shown in a most vulgar way he desired her. She wasn’t so naive in the details surrounding copulation. Helia understood men spilled their seed when they achieved the desired state in lovemaking.
Yet he’d restrained himself and given only Helia pleasure.
Helia propped her chin atop his chest and gazed up at him. “Who are you, Anthony?” she whispered. She moved her gaze over his resting features. “Angry marquess or wounded man who is afraid to let anyone in?”
She, however, knew the answer.
She yearned to help break down his barriers so he could be free to be the man he truly was.
Her heart faltered.
For she wouldn’t be here. As he’d pointed out, he’d not found any link between their mothers, and ultimately, when he decided she was well enough, he would show Helia the door.
Would he be able to do that?
And yet, what was the alternative? That he’d allow her to remain indefinitely as a guest of his family?
All the warmth and contented satiation lifted. Restlessness ran through her.
