He shrugged. “I’ve had no complaints.”
She subjected him to the comprehensive inspection she’d give a horse before she bought it. “I feel…I feel that my education is lacking. Especially since Caro and Fen…”
“Have found their own satisfaction?”
“Yes.” To stop him gathering her closer, she flattened her hand on his chest. “If we do this…”
“If?” If was better than an outright refusal any day. Triumph beat inside him like a thousand wings. He’d intrigued her—and Helena followed where her curiosity led.
“If we do this, I set the pace. After you’ve kissed me, I decide whether we proceed.”
A grunt of incredulous laughter escaped him. “You’re still a blasted managing wench. Do you want me to sign a contract? In triplicate? In blood?”
His sarcasm didn’t amuse her. “Your word is sufficient.”
“Damn it, Hel. I’m asking for a few days of fun, not hiring an architect to build me a new townhouse.” Actually he intended much more than a brief affair, but however heady her nearness, he hadn’t lost his grip on strategy.
His levity earned him a disapproving glance. “There’s more.”
He sighed and settled his hands at her supple waist. “Of course there is.”
“You won’t tell anybody.”
“Not even Silas?”
“Silas in particular. If you tell Silas, he’ll tell Caro. Then she’ll tell Fen. I don’t want any misguided, if well-meant matchmaking. In public, we still act like acquaintances.”
West arched his eyebrows. “When you’re wandering around in a blissful daze, that will be difficult.”
This time she did push away. He didn’t try to stop her. Right now, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“I hate to puncture your confidence, but it’s possible there won’t be any bliss.” She paced as she spoke. Hers was a restless soul, always had been.
He frowned as he watched her move. Those long legs ate up the carpet, and everything about her expressed energy and purpose. She was the most exciting woman he’d ever known. “I’m not a brute like Crewe.”
The smile she cast him in passing was almost fond. “I know you’re not.”
He gaped at her in shock. “What did you say?”
She came to rest near the bed and curled her hand around one of the carved posts. He gulped for air. The action was a little too suggestive for his sanity. And the pity of it was she had no clue.
As if ensuring he understood, she spoke very clearly. “I said you’re a better man than my late, unlamented spouse. Why else are we having this conversation?”
He frowned, struggling through the steam in his brain to make sense of this momentous change. “You always said we were cut from the same cloth.”
“Yes, well, I was hurt and angry. Just now, when I asked you to stop kissing me, you did. Crewe would have rushed on to find his swinish satisfaction.”
Did she know how much she betrayed about her marriage? “Helena…”
She glowered. “I told you not to feel sorry for me. When I deci
ded I wouldn’t share him with his whores, I started sleeping with a pistol under my pillow. You might recall his hunting accident, back in 1811. The one that didn’t kill him, but left him with his arm in a sling.”
“You?” What a woman she was. He wanted to give three cheers.
Her lips curled in bloodthirsty self-satisfaction. “After that, he took me seriously.”
“The worm. I’ll make it up to you.”