Which made her desperate, indeed.
Baldwin stretched his back as he entered his chamber, where he actually smiled at his bed. What he wanted more than anything was to sleep off what had turned into very long day. He’d spent his entire afternoon with the prospects. His mother had made certain of that. She hadn’t even been particularly subtle about it.
And they were fine. They were allfine. Nothing truly wrong with a one of them, save perhaps Charity, who he didn’t like at all. The rest had one common issue. They weren’t Helena. Helena, who he kept looking for in every crowd. Helena, who had been kept just as busy as he had, by her wretched uncle and cousin. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought his mother and Helena’s family had coordinated their efforts to keep them apart.
Only his mother wouldn’t work in league with Peter Shephard. She had some standards, even in her desperation.
He moved to ring the bell and call his valet, but before he could do so, there was a rustling behind him. He turned and was shocked when Helena, herself, stepped from the shadows in the corner of his room.
Her face was pale, her eyes wide and her hands trembled at her sides as she whispered, “I—should I have come?”
He didn’t answer, not with words. He could find none when his emotions and his desires were swelling up inside of him. Instead, he crossed the room in a few long strides, gathered her against him and kissed her. She immediately softened, winding her arms around his neck, gasping when he caught her backside and drew her even closer.
“I have great hopes that this isn’t a dream,” he murmured against her lips.
She smiled. “It isn’t,” she reassured him as he began to kiss her neck. “But it isn’t quite reality, either.”
He drew back and looked down at her. So lovely and so perfect and yet so out of reach. He cleared his throat. “Then let’s celebrate the fantasy while we can. But first, a question.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“What about your cousin?”
“Charity is snoring in her bed, believing with every fiber of her being that I am asleep on the settee in her dressing room. She’s never been one to get up in the middle of the night, so we are safe in that regard.”
“Good,” he said, backing her toward his bed slowly. “Then I can keep you all night. Or nearly so.”
She shivered and he paused, forcing himself to recall her past, feeling the potential for fear and anxiety. He took a deep breath and leaned with her against the high edge of his bed.
“I want to make love to you, Helena,” he whispered. “I want that more than anything. But not if it causes you grief. So tell me, is that what you want?”
She didn’t hesitate, but nodded immediately. That put some ease into his heart. As did her words when she said, “All I can think about is you, Baldwin. It won’t last. It can’t. But I want tonight.”
“Good,” he said, and slid his hands to where her simple gown fastened in the front. He never broke her gaze as he slipped each button free. “But if you need me to stop or wait or go slowly, I want you to tell me. We have all night. And I want to make it perfect.”
Helena shuddered as Baldwin parted her gown and revealed the plain chemise beneath. His warm fingers slid beneath the fabric and slowly eased it from her shoulders, down her arms, her hips, and let it fall around her feet.
She shifted slightly, uncomfortable about being seen in such a revealed state. Her shift was thin cotton, washed too many times, and she knew it was almost see-through in some places. Under that she wore a pair of drawers, the pleated edges of which peeked out from beneath the chemise. She felt her skin getting hot as he just stared at her, silent. Reverent, even.
“You are so beautiful. I want to memorize every line of you. I want to burn this image in my mind forever so I never lose it, no matter what age and infirmity bring.”
She shivered at those sweet words. And again when he tucked a finger beneath each thin strap of her chemise and tugged it down, too. Inch by inch her skin was exposed, lower and lower until her breasts were bared and kissed by the warm air in the room.
She turned her head, unable to meet his eyes anymore.
“So lovely,” he muttered, more to himself, it seemed, than to her. As her chemise fluttered to join her gown, he lifted a hand and gently cupped her bare breast. He stroked his thumb over her nipple and electric pleasure sizzled through her veins until she gasped in surprise.
He slid a hand beneath her knees and lifted her onto his bed. She settled against the pillows and watched as he stepped away and stripped open his jacket buttons. He cast it aside, the same with his waistcoat. He unwrapped his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling it from his trousers, he tugged the contraption over his head and her world just…stopped.
He was something. Broad-shouldered, perfectly muscled, with just a sprinkling of chest hair that made a path into his trouser waist. She had not had much experience with naked men. Her attacker hadn’t undressed. Her only points of reference were garden statues that made her eyes boggle.
This was different.
He tugged his boots off, then moved back toward her, leaving his trousers in place, just as her drawers were. He took a spot beside her on the bed, rolling to his side to face her.
“Still fine?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. You must understand, Baldwin, what happened, I’ve already been broken from it. But broken bones heal stronger. I’m that.”
