Winning Lord West by Anna Campbell Page B

kissing that left her cringing with frustration and
shame.
    Tonight she couldn’t bear to be that pathetic
creature.
    “What’s wrong?” West whispered.
    Startled, she emerged from the unhappy past
to find the man of the present observing her with concern. His
hands sat loosely at her waist.
    Once she gave her consent, she’d expected him
to leap on her. His last kiss had caught her unprepared. Unprepared
and unafraid. The lack of fear had convinced her that despite years
of pique, at some instinctual level, she still trusted her first
love.
    “Why do you ask?”
    His tender expression twisted her heart. Even
in courtship, Crewe had never given her a scrap of tenderness. To
her adolescent self, that had seemed thrilling proof of
overmastering passion. Today’s Helena knew better.
    “Because you were as supple as a willow wand,
and now you’re all tight and wary again.”
    To her surprise, she responded honestly.
Tonight was unprecedented in so many ways, not least because she
abandoned all defenses. Or they abandoned her. “I’m nervous.”
    More breathtaking tenderness. “So am I.”
    She frowned her disbelief. “Don’t play games,
West.”
    “You challenged me to show you pleasure. Good
God, it’s more responsibility than the government laid on my
shoulders when I went to Russia. Then I only had to worry about the
fate of empires.”
    Something coiled and suspicious inside Helena
loosened as she laughed. “You’re absurd.”
    He cupped the side of her face. “And you’re
lovely.”
    The tightness returned. “No, I’m not. My nose
is too big.”
    It was West’s turn to laugh. “I love your
nose. I always have. It has such character. A woman so imperious
would look silly with a little button nose. You’re a queen, Helena,
not a pretty little poppet.”
    When he kissed her long blade of a nose, she
shifted uncomfortably. Crewe had left her mistrusting everything
about herself, including her looks. Now she hated how she yearned
for more of West’s praise. “You don’t have to—”
    “Give you compliments? I do, if you’re mad
enough to underestimate your attractions.”
    She snorted. “Overdoing it, West.”
    He grabbed her hand and pressed it over his
pounding heart. “Feel that?”
    Wide-eyed Helena stared at him. “For me?”
    “For you.”
    Without stopping to second-guess herself, she
rose on her toes—West was one of the few men she knew tall enough
to make her feel small and feminine—and pressed her lips to
his.
    Her boldness startled him, and he jerked
away. “Helena, are you sure?”
    Yes, definitely a better man than her louse
of a husband. She hooked her hands over his broad shoulders.
“No.”
    This time when she kissed him, she leaned
closer, nipping at his lower lip until he let her in. When his arms
lashed around her and his mouth opened over hers, triumph filled
her.
    After all this time, she’d expected to feel
more tentative, but this was like coming home after a long,
difficult journey. A voluptuous sigh escaped, and she parted her
lips to allow him access. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and she
met him eagerly.
    Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to a
sizzling universe of sensation. West’s scent was richer and more
potent than she remembered, and he tasted so delicious. Heat swept
through her with swift and irresistible force. A powerful pulse set
up in the base of her belly.
    Helena moaned against his seeking lips, as
his hands roamed up and down her back. Only when her bodice sagged
did she realize he touched her with intent.
    She wasn’t hypocrite enough to protest. At
last blood flowed through her veins. For years, she’d lived in
ice.
    With frantic hands, she pushed the coat and
waistcoat from his shoulders, and tore at his neck cloth until his
soft, white shirt fell open. Greedily her palms danced across the
planes of his chest.
    When he stepped back, she growled deep in her
throat. Eyes glittering with purpose, he wrenched her blue silk
bodice