Silly, ignominious heart.
“I would suggest that your presence in this library conveys the direct opposite of what you are saying,” he said smoothly.
Her heart thudded, and that same liquid heat that pooled in her belly whenever he was near returned. If only she could control herself. If only she could stop loving him. If only she could keep from longing to throw herself into his arms and banish that frown with her lips.
What would kissing him be like?
She would never know. Because he was betrothed to another and he thought of her as a sister who required him to storm to the rescue like a gallant knight of old.
“Dorset is joining me here at any moment,” she informed him, bumping into a wall of books at her back in an effort to keep him as far away from her as possible.
There was nowhere else to escape to.
Huntingdon reached her, those impossibly blue eyes sparkling with an emotion she could not read. “Dorset is not coming.”
Not again.
Oh, drat him. Drat him for his meddling. Drat him for crowding her, for trapping her between the bookshelves and his powerful body. Drat him for his scent, taunting her now, musky and delicious.
“How do you presume to know what Dorset is doing and what he is not doing?” she asked, though she was afraid she already knew the answer.
Huntingdon smiled grimly. “We had a discussion, he and I. I persuaded him it would not be in his favor to dally with you.”
Would he never cease plaguing her?
Frustration and irritation blossomed, making her bold. She settled her hands on his chest and shoved. “Your concern is misplaced, Huntingdon. Direct it toward your betrothed and leave me to do as I wish.”
Touching him was a mistake.
Because she liked it far too much. The texture of his coat was smooth seduction. Heat radiated from him, seeping into her palms, making her weak. Making her want him. Her gaze dipped to his lips. One kiss. She had been doing everything in her power to ruin herself, and all she wanted was this man. His mouth on hers.
“My sense of honor forbids me from leaving you to your own wayward actions,” he growled, flattening his palms on the bookshelf at either side of her head, trapping her there.
A fruitless action. At the moment, she had no desire to go anywhere, though she knew all too well she should.
“I do not need your sense of honor,” she protested, despising herself for the breathlessness in her tone. For her inability to guard her heart against him. For the longing that washed over her, when she knew he could not ever be hers.
“On the contrary, my dear.” His voice was forbidding. “You very much do. If it were not for me, you should be on the cusp of making the greatest mistake of your life. You will thank me later. The Marquess of Dorset is not worthy of touching your hems.”
Was it her imagination, or had Huntingdon’s head lowered?
Of course it was her imagination. He thought of her as a sister.
“Whether or not Dorset touches my hems is for me to decide. Not you.” But as she issued her stern warning, her hands moved, sliding up his broad, firm chest. Settling upon his shoulders.
“This was your final chance, Helena. I have no choice but to go to Shelbourne now.”
Gabe stared downat Helena’s upturned face. She was a tall woman, but his uncommon height meant she was the perfect fit for him. All he needed to do was lower his head, and her lips could be his.
But that would be wrong, he reminded himself.
So very wrong.
“You are bluffing,” the spirited minx told him. “If you were going to go to Shelbourne, you would have already done so by now.”
She was right, damn her. He did not want to go to her brother with this. And if he bothered to examine the reason why, he would have to admit it was because he enjoyed chasing after her. Watching over her gave him an excuse to be in her presence. To be near. So near, her massive skirts billowed into his trousers. So near, he could ravish her pouting mouth to his content.
“I was hoping you would see reason.” His gaze strayed to those pink, lush lips, and he swallowed against a staggering rush of need he had no right to feel. “But you have proven again and again that you are incapable of knowing what is best for you.”
