“To excel in any art, one must allow one’s passions to run free. One must have the courage of their convictions. But you know that already.”
She flashed a coy smile. “We’re on the cusp of something new. If a lady is to make her way in a world of invention and industry, she should educate herself on the needs of men.”
“And what do you know of men’s needs, Miss Langley?”
“Only what Miss Ware tells me at our Thursday night meetings. She believes a woman must learn a man’s language if she is ever to compete in his world.”
“And what language is that?” He was more than intrigued.
He noted a brief flicker of unease in her eyes. “Perhaps as we continue to become acquainted, I shall draw attention to the little signs Miss Ware mentioned.”
“Then I believe it’s your turn to ask a question.”
Helen moistened her lips. “Do you ride well, Mr St Clair?”
“Better than most.”
“And yet you were not thinking about your stallion Shadow. An image of your prowess in bed flashed into your mind. You pictured yourself making love to a woman.”
“I pictured myself making love to you,” he corrected, enjoying this game of honesty. A man was not confused when a woman spoke with candour. “It’s only you, Helen. It’s only been you for years.”
She hissed a breath. “I wish to God you had told me before. We might have saved ourselves months of misery.”
“As someone capable of understanding a man’s language, how is it you failed to notice my silent communication?” He understood why he had missed her cues. Sebastian had convinced him she saw him as kin.
“I didn’t say I was capable but merely a novice.”
“I presume Miss Ware has a list of code words that stir a man to amorous thoughts.” He wondered where Miss Ware had gathered her information.
Her blush said yes. “She knows if a man mentions riding St George, he wishes the lady to … to …”
“Mount him.” Damn, his mind took to wandering again.
“Indeed.”
He laughed. “Sebastian would kill me if he heard this conversation.”
“I think we’ve moved past the point of worrying about my brother.” She glanced out of the window as they approached the tollhouse, where thatchers were busy replacing the roof. “Hopefully, he is still hunting for Lady Brompton. It will give us time to conclude our investigation and decide what we mean to tell him. He will most likely disown me.”
“No, he won’t. I shall take the blame.”
Nicholas knew one thing with absolute certainty. When faced with Sebastian, the man would attack first and ask questions later.
She shot to the edge of her seat. “But it’s not your fault. You didn’t ask me to follow you. I used my initiative.”
“I should have taken you home, Helen.” He searched his soul, waiting to feel a pang of regret. It didn’t come. “And I’m a hypocrite. I profess to put you first, but my recent conduct may be considered selfish.” Hardly the actions of a gentleman, but love did strange things to a man.
She reached out, the touch of her hand on his knee sparking every nerve to life. “It’s not selfish to follow your heart, Nicholas.”
“It’s selfish to do so knowingyouwill suffer as a result.”
“Suffer?” She laughed, her eyes brightening as she threw herself into his lap. “Do I look like a victim? Don’t underestimate a woman’s determination to get what she wants.”
She didn’t give him a chance to reply, but threaded her arms around his neck, wiggled closer, so she sat on his growing erection.
Her mouth found his with ease, her tongue coaxing his lips apart, tangling with his in an erotic dance. Sweet moans rumbled in her throat. Her breasts rubbed against his chest.
He would make love to her tonight.