“Oh…” she breathed, shivering from head to toe, feeling as debauched as a drunkard in a brewery, soaking in desire and reveling in the pleasure of it.
His hand, warm on her lap, began to pull up her gown and she suddenly wished he would hurry up, an insistent need to feel his hand on her naked thigh bursting within her.
She wanted to feel his hands everywhere.
His body jerked, pressing his hardness into the softness at her center and she moaned aloud at the soft, swelling, insistent pressure she was feeling as a result.
She clutched him closer, her mouth asking without words for more. She felt his hand on her stockinged leg, moving upward, caressing her, round her thigh and lifting her leg so that it wound around his waist, increasing the press of flesh on flesh, even though the fabric of his breeches, at her center and the flutter of butterflies in her belly?—
Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door and she squeaked in shock. He dropped her leg, moving slightly away from her.
“Who…” he cleared his throat, as his voice was so low and rough, unintentionally seductive, making her shiver again, “Who is it?”
“It is I, Benedict the Heroic, come to rescue you,” the Marquess’s voice rang through the door. “I’ve found the key, but thedoorknob refuses to turn. It seems to need a firm yet careful hand to open properly. Give me but a moment.”
Helena looked down at herself in horror. She could not let anyone see her like this.
“He’s stalling for us. Let me help you,” Silas whispered as he pulled her gown back onto her shoulders, her breast still hanging out of her stays.
She popped it back, trying to arrange her bosom into something less… chaotic.
She touched her hair in horror, knowing that it must be a disheveled mess.
Silas hooked her dress haphazardly and then threw her his coat so she could hide as much of herself as possible before the door slid open, and Benedict appeared.
“Richmont. What are you doing here?” he asked in a strained voice as Helena tried to straighten her gown.
“Highcliff. Lady Helena, a pleasure as always.” Benedict said, bowing, and Amelia emerged from behind him.
Silas threw his sister a deathly glare. The adolescent seemed rather pleased with herself.
“Likewise,” Helena stepped forward, smiling uncomfortably as she pushed a strand of hair away from her face.
Silas took him by the arm. “You came to see me about something?”
“Oh! Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.”
“Good, then let us adjourn to the study.” He pulled his friend quite firmly out of the room, not before hissing at Amelia, “I’ll speak withyoulater.”
Chapter Fifteen
“That wasn’t very kind of you.” Helena chided.
Amelia shrugged even as she grinned mischievously. “It seems you made good use of the time.”
Helena shook her head as she tut-tutted. “You should not make a habit of doing that. It’s not safe.”
Amelia frowned. “Silas would never hurt you.”
“There is more than one way to get hurt.” Helena said, still holding Silas’s jacket closed.
“What do you mean?” Amelia looked very concerned, then an excited smile took over her face. “And why are you wearing Silas’s coat?”
Helena shook her head. “Well, it’s quite chilly in here, and you locked us in without a flame in the fireplace. Your brother was kind enough to offer his coat.”
Amelia’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “You wear it well. Almost like you were meant to.”
Helena’s cheeks warmed. “I—No. It’s nothing of the sort. It’s merely a coat. Practical, that’s all.” She smoothed the front, straightening her shoulders.
