The Duelist's Seduction (10 page)

Gareth grew tighter inside her, his movements harder, and she matched his pace, yearning to release the tension coiling in her own body. They came together, his eyes locking upon hers as their passion crested like a mighty wave. He relaxed into her as a flare of heat spread deep inside her. She kissed his lips and cheek, murmuring his name over and over again like a midnight prayer as pure joy shook her entire body. He opened his mouth as though to speak but seemed to change his mind and kissed her again. When he regained his strength, he eased off her but pulled her to him, cradling her in his arms. Even with the press of his warm body against hers, she shivered.

“Are you hurting?” He stroked her arm, trailing his fingertips down over one of her breasts. Her skin burned as he teased the soft curve of her hip and let his hand rest on her thigh.

“No… I’m just a little cold,” she whispered back.

He chuckled and moved away, pulling the covers back onto the bed so they could slide between the sheets. “Better?”

“Much better.” She rolled onto her side to face him. He was a dark silhouette against the moonlit windows behind him. Gareth brushed a lock of her hair back from her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip. She felt safe, content… Nothing in the world could ever harm her, not so long as he touched her, held her close. Helen drifted to sleep beneath his protective embrace.

Gareth watched her eyelids fall shut and listened to her soft steady breath as she drifted to sleep. She was so trusting, to give him her virginity, knowing it should have gone to the man she would have married. It was a gift, one he vowed to cherish. He smoothed a hand down the flair of her full hips, perfect for him to hold. It felt incredible to hold a woman in his arms, and not just any woman, but Helen. There was something irresistible about her that kept drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

At last he had found the contentment he’d been robbed of. The years he’d wasted looking in all the wrong places. One simple night with Helen had cleansed his heart. In her little sighs, shivers, and kisses, he’d been reborn. It reminded him of his time with Clarissa. Theirs had been a love match—a powerful one. They had played and romped about as children, quarreled as lovers, and united as man and wife.

Apart from his best friend, Ambrose Worthing, there had been no other person in his life he had trusted himself to love. But with Helen, he could feel that giddy rush of first passion and knew it could all too easily strengthen into deep love. It was dangerous to care for her as he did, but there could be no denying his feelings.

Could he marry her? He’d believed it wasn’t possible, but he had ruined her, despite knowing he should not have touched her or kissed her. He’d gone and taken everything she could give and still wanted more. Gareth started to smile at the idea of marriage, but his smile wilted. He did not deserve Helen. She ought to have been courted properly by some strapping young lad who would write sonnets about her cornflower blue eyes and the tinkling bell of her laugh.

What could he offer her? An empty home, a wasted life, and a husband who was afraid to love? A woman often believed she loved the first man who showed her passion, but she might not love him. Could she come to love him in time? If he were to convince her to wed him? Would it be enough? If they married, would their union withstand being born as a ruthless transaction? Her virtue for his honor?

CHAPTER FOUR

Helen woke up to the light patter of rain against the windows. The bed was cold and empty beside her. She shivered, pulling the sheets tighter against her naked body. If only Gareth would come back to bed so she could wrap herself around his warm, hard body. She was deeply sore from the night before, but she still wanted to touch him, to share again the familiarity of his body in the way intimacy between lovers always came. A rush of heat flooded her as she remembered what Gareth had done to her, what she’d wanted him to do to her.

And now that she’d succumbed, the bed was empty. He had lost interest in her already. Helen bit her lip and tears welled up in her eyes. How could she go from crying over being stuck here to crying at the thought of having to leave? Men were disastrous to a woman’s thought process. She’d have to avoid them in the future if she meant to think logically.

As she was steeling her nerves and deciding what she must do, the bedroom door opened. Gareth came in, fully dressed and carrying a tray with tea and scones, looking the picture of a country gentleman at his leisure. The brooding rake from the night before was gone, and in his place was a man more suited to happiness. The frown lines about his face had turned to laugh lines. Was he happy to be rid of her? Was he delighted that he’d had his fun and now would send her on her way? Part of her thought her panicked reaction was foolish, but she couldn’t help it. She’d given herself to him and now she didn’t know where she stood with him. Where did they go from here? He saw her watching him, and set the tray down to rush over to her.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” He cupped her face and wiped her tears away.

He offered her comfort and sweetness, all the things she’d believed seconds before he was incapable of giving her. She really was a fool.

Helen tried to smile, looking at him through tear coated lashes. “I thought…oh, it doesn’t matter.”

“I brought you breakfast.” He fetched the tray and joined her on the bed.

At first, Helen thought she was too ill to eat, but her appetite crept back and she nibbled on a currant scone. He hadn’t abandoned her. Why the thought of him leaving her hurt, she wouldn’t admit.

“Is everything well, Helen? Do you…hurt much?”

No eyes had ever looked at her that way, as though she was the world and nothing beyond her existed. It made the budding warmth in her chest spread and deepen, erasing the chill of waking in his bed alone.

“It still hurts a little,” she said, surprised that she could be so frank with him about such an embarrassing matter. But after last night, he knew her as no other man had. Hiding anything at this point seemed silly.

“It should pass. The next time it will hurt less,” he promised.

She blushed at the idea of there being a next time. She was secretly glad to hear that. He would not send her away so soon then. Her gaze danced over his body…the way his breeches were snug on his muscular thighs and his silver waistcoat with embroidered thistle flowers made his eyes sparkle. He was the sort of man a woman would always want, in her bed, by her side. Handsome enough to make a woman’s heart skitter and charming enough to steal her breath. Despite her soreness, she would gladly have fallen back in bed and rumpled the sheets further.

He seemed to read her thoughts and winked at her. “I’ll leave you to eat. I have some letters to write. When you’re feeling better…well…we’ll find something to do.” He flashed a rakish grin, kissed her forehead, and left her alone in his big empty bed.

Gareth lounged back in his chair, watching Ambrose pace before him. After he’d left Helen, he’d answered his letters and then Mary had found him, telling him Ambrose had come. His friend was now wearing a path into the carpet in front of Gareth’s desk.

“What is it, Ambrose? I trust that Bennett fellow is well? I didn’t hit the man that hard.”

Ambrose’s fists clenched and unclenched, a habit Gareth recognized from their youth. Ambrose was disturbed.

“Mr. Bennett is fine, a nasty bruise or two, but fine. It is Miss Banks that concerns me. I have only just been able to track down her brother.”

Gareth felt the bottom of his stomach pitch out from under him. “You didn’t tell him where Helen is, did you?” She couldn’t leave now, he wasn’t ready to let her go.

“No, I was not so foolish. Besides, he didn’t even know me. He was on his way to Bennett’s chambers, hoping to find him. I don’t doubt that Bennett will tell Banks everything. You ought to be ready. Banks will either kill you or demand you marry his sister.”

“And if I marry her?” Gareth replied.

Ambrose laughed darkly. “Come now, Gareth. We both know you swore you would never marry again. No one could ever compare to Clarissa. She was your other half.”

He would have agreed with Ambrose years ago, but now that he’d met Helen, he knew a happy life with someone other than Clarissa was possible again. Salvation was within reach—actually, in his bed at this moment. The mental image of that was too hard to resist. He smiled.

“Why are you smiling?” Ambrose demanded.

“I suppose it’s because I’m happy,” he admitted, still grinning.

His friend stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at Gareth. “I know the proper course is marriage, but Gareth, you can’t marry her. Miss Banks deserves someone…”

“Better?”

Ambrose laughed. “I was going to say someone less jaded.”

“And you think I cannot give Helen what she needs?”

Gareth’s friend, looking troubled, leaned one elbow against the wall across from the desk. “I think it has been a long time since either of us has been in the position to offer a woman what she needs, aside from physical pleasure.”

“I can offer her a home, food, clothes… It’s more than she has the ability to get now. Her brother has lost the last of their money. I’ve compromised her, and she’ll never be able to gain a position as a governess. It’s the least I can do, and what’s more, I
want
to marry her.”

“Want or not, you cannot. She deserves a green lad who will adore her every word and bring her flowers every day. Not someone like you or me. We’re not made for marriage.”

Gareth’s heart turned over in his chest. He wanted to give Helen more than just pleasure. He wanted to care for her, protect her the way her brother had failed to do. But she deserved better than him. The last seven years of his life had been absolutely horrible. It was his own fault, of course. He’d chosen that path of degradation. Could he bring her into that life, with his reputation for gaming and now dueling? What could he truly offer her besides a man jaded by life and ruined for love?

“As always, you are right, Ambrose. I cannot marry her.”

After breakfast, Helen returned to her chambers and bathed in a small tub. She washed herself, careful to be gentle on certain parts of her body. The tenderness was welcome, though, as was the change she felt deep inside her. She was privy to a secret understanding about herself as a woman and what mysteries her body held when in the arms of a man. There was something more, though…a deeper sense of wholeness she hadn’t felt before, like being loved… Was she loved by Gareth? Smiling, she walked over to the bed where a bright summer green gown with gold ribbons on the sleeves and hem was laid out. Mary helped her dress.