Simply Shameless (2 page)

Helene realized she was shaking her head. Her body stirred at his words, the images implanted in her mind with the clarity of cut glass. How long was it since she'd felt the skin of a young man against her own, a healthy man, a man who desired her?

"I value honesty," she whispered.

He tugged on her wrist, drew her across the narrow gap to sit beside him.

"So do I."

He unbuttoned her glove and kissed the soft skin on the underside of her wrist. She shivered as his tongue flicked over her vein. She'd never felt like this with a man before, this sense of illicit heat and excitement, the thought that she could choose to have him if she wanted, rather than simply be taken or sold or forced.

He pulled off her glove, kissed his way around her fingers, and drew her thumb into his mouth before releasing it with a soft pop.

"I want you, but I would never take what wasn't freely offered."

"I understand."
Mon Dieu,
was that her breathy voice? She cleared her throat. "It is unfortunate, then, that we are both in such a hurry to get to Town."

He sighed, his expression suddenly remote. "Ah, yes, London and my future. I'd almost forgotten."

"You do not wish to go to London?"

"I have no choice. My duty to my family demands it." He shrugged, the gesture as eloquent as any Frenchman. "I've been brought all the way back from India to save the family name."

"I have no family."

He grunted. "Lucky you."

She folded her hands in her lap. "Believe me, it is not easy being alone in the world. You should be grateful that your family cares about you and wants you back."

"They don't care about me. I'm the official black sheep, the one shipped off overseas to make something of himself when all else failed." He glanced up, must have seen her puzzled expression, and laughed. "It's a tradition in England among the upper classes."

"To force their children to do their duty?"

"To force their children to obey them and sacrifice everything for the glory of the family name."

His bitterness surprised her, and she touched his sleeve, anxious to change the subject.

"I'm going to London to start a new life."

"And I'm going to London to live my brother's."

"I do not understand."

He retreated, one arm along the back of the seat. "My eldest brother died, and I have to marry in his place."

"Marry a woman you haven't even seen before?"

"Oh no, I've seen her. She grew up with our family." His smile was unpleasant. "My father is her guardian. Anne has a tidy little fortune, you see, and the vague hopes of a title. My father is reluctant to lose her wealth, seeing as he's been living off the income from her estates for years."

"The poor girl."

Philip stiffened. "What about poor me?"

Helene studied his indignant face. "In truth, I feel sorry for both of you, but you could still cry off. She has no such choice."

He sighed. "I suppose you're right. I've been so busy feeling sorry for myself that I've forgotten how wretched she must be."

"Did she love your brother?"

"William? I doubt it." His smile reappeared. "If she showed a preference for either of us, it was probably me."

Helene patted his hand. "Then you have the ability to make her content and make your marriage a happy one."

His face fell. "But I don't want to be content and marry someone I already know. I want so much more." He held her gaze. "I want to meet someone at a ball, instantly fall in love, and be horribly rejected so that I must take to wandering Europe in search of a new love."

"Whilst sampling a succession of willing ladies along the way, I presume?"

Philip smiled. "Perhaps that would be part of my recovery."

Helene laughed and he reluctantly joined in. She couldn't quite believe she was jesting with him, flirting even. Within the tight confines of the coach, she felt freer than she ever had before. What would it have been like to grow up with such confidence in the future?

To dream of such things as true love or happiness?

His smile dimmed. "But I will have none of those things. My destiny is set in stone, and I cannot escape it."

Helene let out her breath. Perhaps she wasn't the only one whose life wouldn't follow a path to happiness. At least her future was finally in her own hands, her destiny hers to make.

"I'm sorry, monsieur."

He squeezed her hand. "Not as sorry as I am, believe me." He cleared his throat. "And what of you? Why are you traveling to London?"

Helene considered him. How much should she reveal? He obviously considered her a lady, and she was enjoying the experience too much to shatter his illusions.

"I am meeting with my trustees to consider my future."

A half-truth, but enough, she hoped, to content him.

He glowered at her. "Don't let anyone force you into another marriage."

"I can assure you that will not happen."

"Well, whatever happens, make sure you are well provided for."

Helene fought to conceal a smile. "Now you sound like my grandfather."

He leaned closer and brushed her lower lip with the tip of his gloved finger. "As I said, I don't feel particularly grandfatherly toward you."

She swallowed hard as his warm spicy scent filled her nostrils. "We have already agreed, have we not, that our business in London prevents us from exploring any of your fantasies."

His thumb rubbed against her lip. "I don't remember saying that. I would love to know some of your fantasies, especially if they include me, naked in your bed."

She pictured him there, all lithe elegance and long tangled limbs, and wondered if his skin was tanned all over.

He leaned closer and nipped her ear. "I learned a lot in India."

"About commerce and trade?"

His lips brushed her cheek. "About sex, about how to pleasure a woman until she screams."

"With pain?"

He chuckled, his warm breath close to her ear. "Not quite. Closer to ecstasy, I think."

Helene tilted her head away from him so that she could look at his face. "Most men are not known for being considerate lovers."

"In Europe, perhaps. But in India, it is a requirement, and I have studied hard to become proficient."

Despite her cynicism, his arrogance was almost impossible to resist. Her body stirred at the thought of having him over her, inside her, possessing her.

With a start, she blinked and moved away. Had she no sense at all? Opening her legs to the first man who showed interest? Where was all her newfound self-respect and her promise never to allow herself to become dependent on a man's goodwill again?

She straightened her bonnet and risked a glance at Philip. His hazel eyes were heavy-lidded, his erection obvious even through the thickness of his breeches.

"I'm sure your new wife will appreciate your skills, monsieur."

"I'm sure you'd appreciate them more."

"What do you mean?" Helene felt her cheeks heat. Had he realized she was not what she seemed ?

He looked surprised at her icy tone. "Only that I think we would deal well together in bed. My future wife is a virgin and unlikely to wish to explore the kind of sexual satisfaction I now crave."

"You can teach her everything she needs to know."

He cupped her chin. "I'd much rather teach you."

Helene closed her eyes as he leaned closer, and her world abruptly turned upside down.

Chapter Two

"Damnation!"

Philip Ross swore as the carriage lurched to one side, careened down a slope, and finally came to a shuddering stop. From his position, he guessed the body of the coach now lay on its side.
His
body was on top of Madame Helene Delornay. With a grunt, he braced his arms against the seat and levered himself off her.

"Are you all right?"

She stared up at him, her face a pale blur in the darkness.

"I'm not sure I can move."

She sounded faint, her breath coming in short gasps. Philip took her hand and felt the irregular flutter of the pulse at her wrist.

"That's probably because I knocked the wind out of you." He smiled encouragingly. "Just concentrate on breathing for a moment while I listen."

He craned his head and stared up at the outline of the door above him. He could only hope the coachman and horses were unharmed and likely to come to the rescue before more snow fell and buried them for good. Above them, horses whinnied, harnesses jingled, and someone was shouting orders. How far had they fallen? Were they even visible from the road? He tried to stand, wedging his feet against the seat, and jiggled, the door latch. It refused to work, and he cursed under his breath.

"Do you think we will get out of here?"

He shifted his gaze down to Helene. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she was shivering so hard her teeth were rattling. He frowned.

"Are you hurt, madame?"

She shuddered and looked away from him. He fiddled with the clasp of the door again, more violently now.

"If I can't open the door, I'll kick out the window and we can get out through there."

She laughed, the sound wild and high, like a gathering squall at sea. "Fancy to have lived through a bloody revolution and then die in a stupid carriage accident. Perhaps there is a vengeful God after all."

A bang on the other side of the carriage door saved Philip from answering.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"We're fine, although the door is jammed."

"Stand back, then."

Philip crouched down next to Helene as a hefty boot crashed through the carriage window, sending splinters of wood and glass raining down on them. He drew Helene against him, shielding her from the worst of it, giving her the protection of his broad back.

The coachman's grim face stared down at him.

"Is the lady able to move?"

Philip nodded and maneuvered himself around until he could grasp Madame Delornay around her trim waist. With all his strength, he held her up toward the burly coachman, who caught her under the arms and hauled her through the narrow opening. Philip boosted her from below, gained a mouthful of frilly petticoats for his trouble, and followed her out.

The coach was beyond saving. Two of the wheels were smashed off their rims and lay at an awkward angle to the carriage body. Philip raised his gaze to the newly scarred bank down which the coach had slithered and let out his breath. They were lucky to have stopped where they did. Below them lay an ice-covered stream and jagged rocks.

"We passed a small inn about half a mile down the road, sir. You and the lady can seek shelter there for the night."

"Thank you."

Philip shivered as he followed Madame Delornay and the coachman up the slippery bank.

His hands shook, whether from cold or shock he didn't care to guess. Snow at the top of the embankment was trampled and muddied, the horses' huge prints already being covered with fresh snowfall. The coachman hesitated beside the horses. Philip waved him on.

"You're needed with the livestock. I'll take care of the lady."

"Aye, I am, sir. Thank you. Just follow our tracks down the hill, and you'll be sure to find the inn."

Philip watched him vault onto the back of one of the horses and grab the lead rein of another. He turned to his silent companion and offered her his arm.

"Madame?"

She tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his arm and kept pace with his slow stride.

He headed for the least muddy side of the road that ran alongside a copse of trees. After the brush with disaster, his senses seemed more alive, more aware ; of everything around him. He glanced down at her face and saw some color had returned to her cheeks.

Snowflake flurries floated down and melted on her skin.

"It seems that all our plans have gone awry."

She grimaced. "At least we didn't die in there."

He squeezed her hand. "You were afraid of that? It would've been most unlikely."

Her breath clouded in front of his face as she turned to look at him. "I've learned that the most unlikely things happen all the time."

He studied her blue eyes, saw the shadows in them, and stopped walking. He touched her trembling rosebud mouth with the tip of his gloved finger.

"Like now, you mean?"

"Monsieur?"

She raised her chin to look at him, her expression puzzled.

"We are trapped together until the morning; no one knows where we are or can come and find us. Don't you find that interesting?"

She continued to stare at him and then smiled. The beauty of it made Philip blink.

"I hadn't thought of that. For the first time in my life, I'm absolutely free."

He slid his hand around her neck and brought his face down to meet hers. "Free to share my bed? Free to let me inside you?" Even as his cock expanded, his heart seemed to slow as she considered him.

"Oui."

"That's
yes,
isn't it?" he asked, his mind moving too slowly for his growing needs. "Tell me it's yes."

Her lips answered him, her mouth soft and fierce against his, her breath flowing into him.

He groaned and licked the line of her lips, seeking admittance, and groaned again when she let him inside the warm cavern of her mouth. She kissed him back, her tongue entangling with his until he drew her tight against him.

With a growl, he opened his greatcoat and pressed the whole length of her body against him. She was much shorter than he was, and his engorged cock rubbed against the hard busk of her gown. Without breaking the kiss, he picked her up until his shaft met the softer curves between her legs.

After five months of almost complete celibacy on a sailing ship, he was far too ready to come. Her hand fisted in his hair, almost dislodging his hat. He strained against her, wishing he Could simply pull up her skirts and fuck her right there in the snow. But she was no dockside whore; she was a lady who honored him.

Using all his resolve, Philip lowered her to the ground. Her lips were swollen, her blue eyes soft with desire.

He cleared his throat. "We should walk to the inn." She smiled again. "It would certainly be more comfortable." He stroked a wayward curl back from her face. "For you, definitely. At this moment, I don't care about anything other than getting inside you."