West
***
Helena rode Artemis through the bare woods, toward the isolated summerhouse her father had built after his marriage. A happy marriage that had endured until her parents’ death in a carriage accident near Pompeii three years ago. The Nashes made a habit of happy marriages. Her two oldest sisters enjoyed blissful domesticity in York and Edinburgh. Helena couldn’t doubt how well Caro and Silas suited each other.
Her disastrous union with Crewe had been the exception to the rule.
After two nights in West’s arms, the memory of her pig of a husband didn’t bring the usual churning stomach. Right now, life was too promising for her to dwell on old failures.
The forest was breathlessly still as Helena approached the pretty little folly. The only sound was the crunch of Artemis’s neat hooves on the leaf litter. Above them, a watery sun shone in a streaky sky. The late winter day carried the promise of spring.
Or perhaps, despite her best efforts to keep a cool head, Helena wasn’t immune to the thrill of sneaking away to meet a handsome lover.
Through the trees, the lake glistened. With sudden vigor, she set her heels to Artemis’s sides. The mare broke into a springing canter.
Helena supposed now West was back in England, she’d have to return the horse. Which would break her heart. Unless she could budge him on selling Artemis. And long acquaintance told her that when he made up his mind, nothing shifted him.
West stood on the graceful flight of marble steps, watching her ride up. She shivered at his intense concen
tration on her. Once she’d found it unnerving. Not now when she knew where that interest led.
Predatory intent filled his smile. “I wish I could paint.”
Helena drew Artemis to a halt. “Oh, no, not today, my fine fellow. I have other plans for you. And none of them involve standing several feet away with a brush in your hand.”
He ran lightly down the steps. He looked well, more like the man she remembered, before he fell victim to that mysterious fever. “Lady Crewe, you put me to the blush.”
“Blush, fine. Brush, no,” she said with a laugh, as he lifted her from the sidesaddle to the dry winter grass.
West caught her up for an urgent kiss, then drew back and cradled her head in his hands, holding her still for a thorough inspection.
She shifted restlessly under his searching gaze, not just because that kiss had stirred her blood. “What?”
“How is it that I’ve only been away from you for a couple of hours, yet I’ve missed you like the very devil?”
“Don’t be absurd,” she said, struggling for an acerbic tone, but instead sounding bewildered and enchanted.
“I want to go where we can be alone for day after glorious day. Where I can wake to sunlight and make uninhibited love to you. Where when I get the urge in a drawing room, I can bend you over the back of the couch. Where we can talk until late in front of the fire. I want you to myself. I don’t want to have to check the clock or look over my shoulder for fear of scandal.”
He spoke urgently, strong emotion deepening his baritone to a growly bass that made her bones vibrate. She struggled to escape this net of attraction, that tangled tighter with every second. But it was so damned difficult, when she, too, already kicked against the restrictions of secrecy.
“You speak as if our liaison will outlast this week.”
Mockery lit his eyes. “You still mean to toss me out of your bed in a few days? I don’t believe it.”
The problem was that she wasn’t sure she believed it either.
“That was the arrangement.” Curse her for sounding so uncertain.
“A week isn’t enough.”
She jerked free, bumping into Artemis who snorted and sidled away. “What are you suggesting?”
“You know what I’m suggesting.”
Unfortunately she did. “I don’t want to marry again.”
“Then let’s be lovers.”