Page 72 of Seduced by an Irresistible Lady
“He is in the garden,” Miss Justina responded.
Helena stood up and hurried out of the library.
“Inform him that I am coming,” she told Miss Justina who was behind her.
Helena walked into her room and went to her bathroom. She washed her face thoroughly and mopped it with a dry towel. Her face was white, looking relaxed in the mirror. She placed her hands on her stomach, remembering the cramps that had unsettled it in the morning.
The cramps are gone.
Helena walked outside. As she opened the entrance door, wind blew into her, throwing her hair back. Her skirt almost rose higher than propriety allowed till she held it down.
Thank goodness, no one is watching.
Helena walked to the garden. She saw his black box first before she saw him. His face held a warm smile.
“Dr Frederick,” she said.
“Miss Helena, you look great today.”
“Is this place of comfort enough?” Helena asked after the requisite nod of her head.
The question caught him off-guard. Dr Frederick was still fumbling for an answer when Helena gestured to him. She walked in front, hearing the crunch of his foot on the dry garden lawn. She led him to the bigger bench at the back and past that. The last decorative edifice was a circular hedge with a bench in its middle. Her father used to love staying there, but he fell out of infatuation with it, preferring the coziness of his chambers. The stewards didn’t attend much to the hedge, only keeping it in shape. It had grown very tall now and from inside was like an impenetrable fortress. Helena stayed there a lot now if she was in a foul mood and didn’t want any disturbances; only Miss Justina knew she stayed there. Helena walked in and sat on the bench. Dr Frederick stood in front.
“How is the foot?” Dr Frederick asked.
“Ah, it’s fine, much better than before.”
There was nothing wrong with the foot, but Dr Frederick was not to know that. He bent down and placed his hand on the ankle. Helena jerked from his touch. Dr Frederick looked at her and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would hurt so much,” Dr Frederick said.
It didn’t hurt. Helena was startled by the sudden feel of his calloused palm.
“It doesn’t hurt that much, Doctor,” Helena replied.
Dr Frederick placed his hand on her ankle once again, gently this time. Helena said nothing. She swallowed and looked at the centre of Dr Frederick’s hat.
It is better to focus on nothing than the torture of his hands on me.
His second hand joined the first, and soon there was a current flowing around her body as Dr Frederick massaged her foot from the ankle to her knee. After a tense period of silence and complete avoidance of eye contact, Dr Frederick removed his hands from her leg.
“Your leg is fine, Miss Helena.”
“I think so. I do pray it continues to be so,” she said.
Dr Frederick stood up and with his height, the sitting Helena came face to face with a small bulge in the centre of his breeches. Helena said nothing of her observation. She was more worried about the dryness in her throat and the improper images her head conjured. Dr Frederick looked in doubt of what next to say, or do.
“You can sit, Doctor,” Helena told him.
“Thank you,” Dr Frederick said as he sat down beside her.
Helena felt a blockage in the soft breeze she had been enjoying and new human warmth that attempted to block her senses. Helena held her breath, fearful that her skin would touch his, and she would lose control.
“How did your week go?” Dr Frederick asked in a hardened voice. He looked in shock of himself like he forced the words out.
“My week went fine. The vicissitudes of every day are sufficient enough to keep every man, and woman, busy,” Helena answered.
“And your parents?”
