Just because this one stated his thoughts and desires boldly, did not mean he would be any different.
“Wait,” he said, catching her arm as she moved to sail regally past him.
Helen twitched her skirts and sniffed, staring down at the place where his warm palm cupped her skin. “Unhand me, sir.”
He dropped the hand, running it through his hair. Unbelievably, he only looked more handsome with that dark blond hair touseled and in disarray.
“My apologies, I am saying all the wrong things. It is a cursed habit of mine.”
He flashed her an apologetic smile, but Helen sensed there was more to it than that.
“Let me introduce myself,” he said, placing a hand to his chest and offering her a polite bow, as if they were in a formal drawing room and not standing in the dark outside a gaming hell.
“I am Captain Starling.”
Helen eyed him warily, searching for the slightest hint of insincerity.
“Very well, I am-”
“I know who you are, Mrs Montrose.”
His eyes glittered in the light of the torches, throwing the rugged curve of his jaw and the sensual cant of his lips in sharp relief.
Helen shivered, aware that he still stood extremely close. It was far more intimate than the game of glances they had played all evening, for some strange reason.
“And what do you want?”
“As I said, you know what I want.”
Captain Starling was shockingly blunt, and for some irrational reason, it excited her, her body still tingling from their sensual game of glances.
She decided to meet his bluntness with a measure of her own.
Merely to see what he would do, she told herself firmly.
“You want to go home with me,” she said, carefully enunciating each word. “To fuck me, I assume.”
His pale blue eyes widened briefly, then narrowed on her with heated intensity.
“Yes. But I didn’t intend to wait to get you home.”
She gaped at him, her usual composure deserting her at the audacity of that simple statement.
“You are presumptions, Captain Starling,” she gasped, her heart skipping in her chest.
“Yes. I suppose I am. But you have been driving me mad all evening, and my sense of propriety has deserted me. I want you. And I think you may want me in return.”
“Arrogant too,” she retorted, with a tight smile that was more teeth than sweetness.
Determinedly not allowing herself to acknowledge the frisson of excitement his words elicited in her.
They stared at each other for a long moment, neither seemingly in a hurry to be the first to break the silence, hot and thick with electric tension.
Helen made a decision.
Why should she not indulge herself for one brief moment?
She never let her control slip, it seemed. Perhaps, she could take her pleasure, and be done with it. Carry on as if it had never happened. Amelia did it all the time, why shouldn’t Helen taste a different sort of excitement for once?
