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George moved in a single breath, catching her wrist gently and pulling her towards him. Within two steps, Helena felt her feet lift off the floor. When she finally touched down, her back was pressed against the study wall. George's towering frame blocked out the light of the hearth, trapping her entirely within his shadow. He pulled her hands over her head, pinning her wrists with his palm.

Just as her breath finally settled, George's lips came down upon hers in a fierce, consuming kiss.

Helena's eyes widened in shock. The solid wood at her back contrasted sharply with the searing heat of his body pressed against hers from shoulder to knee. His grip upon her wrists above her head was firm, yet carefully adjusted so as not to cause her pain. The pressure of his mouth was demanding and desperate, with nothing more consuming.

Despite his rigid protocols, his endless talk of propriety, and the rules he constructed like walls between us, George Percy wants me with a hunger that matches my own.

The realization shattered her shock into a thousand fragments. Helena let out a soft sigh against his lips, her body completely yielding against his formidable frame. She parted her lips slightly, surrendering to the sensation and kissing him back with a long-suppressed passion of her own.

George let out a low groan deep at her surrender. The sound vibrated against her mouth, as his grip upon her wrists loosened. His fingers gently uncurled, allowing her arms to slide down from the wall. Helena immediately wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

He broke the kiss, his forehead coming to rest against hers as their chests heaved in rough unison. His eyes were half-closed and his warm breath fanning across Helena's damp lips.

"Your Grace..." Helena whispered, her voice a trembling thread. "Are you entirely mad?"

"Entirely," George gasped, his voice stripped of all grandiloquence. He tilted his head, catching her bottom lip between his in a sweet bite that made her knees weak. "I have been mad since the night in the gallery. I have spent four interminable days attempting to convince myself that I could look upon you, speak to you, and feel nothing."

"And did you succeed, Your Grace?" she murmured, a teasing challenge creeping back into her voice even as her hands tightened in his hair.

"Look at me," George commanded softly, his thumb tracing the line of her high cheekbone before sliding down to outline her bottom lip. "Do I look like a man who has succeeded in anything other than his own utter undoing?"

Helena's emerald-green eyes searched his, taking in the raw vulnerability etched into his handsome features—a look she had never seen on the formidable, strict duke.

"Then do not try to succeed," Helena whispered softly, her fingers sliding down from his neck to rest against the warm expanse of his chest, feeling the wild hammering of his heart. "Not tonight."

George did not wait for another invitation. He captured her lips again, but this time, the kiss was deeper, hungrier and more invading. His tongue swept into her mouth, engaging hers in a rhythm that drowned them with an intoxicating heat that left her completely breathless.

His hands slid down, cupping the sides of her waist before lifting her slightly,

Helena clung to him, the scent of him filling her senses and overwhelming her completely. She felt his fingers shift, working the delicate ribbons of her pelisse.

"Allow me," George muttered against her jaw, his lips trailing down to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, causing a shiver to run through her.

The pelisse fell off her shoulders, collapsing to the floor and pooling around their feet. The thin silk of her gown offered little protection against the heat of George's hands. His palms smoothed up her ribs, fingers spreading wide across her waist and tempting her desire even more.

Helena let out a breathy gasp, her hands moving instinctively to the front of his coat. "If we are to cast aside propriety, Your Grace," she murmured between short, feverish kisses, "then you are far too overdressed for the occasion."

George let out a soft laugh against her neck, stepping back just enough to allow her room. Helena's fingers worked with hasty clumsiness at the brass buttons of his coat. She pushed the heavy wool off his broad shoulders, helping him shed the garment until it joined her pelisse.

Without his coat, George looked larger, broader, and infinitely more dangerous. He immediately closed the distance between them, wrapping one arm firmly around her waist as his lips found hers again.

They began to move, their lips never truly separating for more than a second. George took slow steps backward into the center of the study, guiding her with him to where the firelight bathed them in a deep glow.

George groaned, his hands moving up her back to tangle in her dark hair. He pulled the gold hairpins one by one, letting them drop onto the floorboards. Her dark hair tumbled down in a glossy cascade. "God help me, you are breathtaking."

They reached the cluster of furniture near the hearth and George guided her back until the backs of her knees brushed against the plush leather cushion. He lowered her into the deep seat and knelt between her legs, his hands trapping her within his embrace.

Helena looked down at him, her hair spilling over the leather of the chair. Her heart was beating so hard she felt lightheaded, her lips swollen and tingling from his kisses.

"Your Grace, what would the servants say if they were to see the mighty Duke of Cavendish kneeling upon his own rug?"

"Let them say whatever they so please," George growled softly, a smile touching the corners of his lips.

He leaned forward, placing his hands upon her waist and sliding them up her bodice. Helena arched her back slightly, a hum of pleasure escaping her throat. He leaned in to kiss her again, exploring her mouth with thorough devotion that sent waves of sweet torment cascading through her lower stomach.

His hands moved to the small of her back, finding the hidden hooks of her silk dress. With steady fingers, he unfastened the top three clasps, loosening the bodice just enough to allow the silk to slip slightly over her shoulders, exposing the pale skin of her collarbones and the plump flesh of her breasts.

George paused, his eyes darkening to the color of a stormy sea as he gazed down at her. He pressed his lips to the dip between her collarbones, his mouth hot and damp against her skin, moving down to the top of her breasts where her corset pushed the pale flesh upward. Helena gasped, her fingers digging into his clothes as aching sensation shot through her body.