Winning Lord West by Anna Campbell Page B

candied. All that remained in
one piece was a meringue fancy molded in the shape of the
summerhouse.
    West wasn’t anywhere near tipsy, although an
enjoyable warmth simmered in his blood. He had a strong head for
liquor. The only man able to drink him under the table was Anthony
Townsend, who had clearly led quite a life, running his shipping
line.
    The only man in England. In Russia, the
locals and their vodka had trumped him.
    Helena, on the other hand, was three sheets
to the wind.
    “Do you want to lie down?” He waved his glass
toward the low divan under the window, where the servants had set
out cushions and rugs.
    Salacious anticipation broadened her smile.
“Yes.”
    When her foot curled over his knee in
unmistakable invitation, he jumped like a virgin. During the meal,
she must have kicked off her half-boots.
    His cock reacted with predictable enthusiasm.
Never had he been as desperate for a woman as he was for Helena.
She merely had to look at him sideways, and he was upright as a
ship’s mast. He’d long believed they’d prove a physical match, but
the sizzling reality of holding her in his arms surpassed all his
imaginings.
    Still, a gentleman didn’t take advantage of a
lady’s inebriation.
    And he remained a gentleman. Just.
    “You’ll feel better after a nap.”
    She pursed her lips and lowered her eyelids
until thick, black lashes shadowed her cheekbones. “I’m feeling
rather fine right now.”
    With unmistakable intent, her foot slid
further up his thigh. His grip on the glass tightened as explosions
set off behind his eyes. “Helena, you’re in no state to make
decisions.”
    He wished she’d stop smiling at him as though
she meant to gobble him up for dessert, instead of the sugar and
cream confection. “That charming bower screams sin. You can’t mean
to waste it.”
    “We’ll use it when you’ve got a clear
head.”
    With a soft laugh, she curled her toes
against his leg. “I’m never clearheaded when I’m with you.”
    Astonishment, as much as burgeoning arousal,
had him sitting straight in his chair. From Helena, that was a
major admission. Unfortunately, it also proved that she wasn’t
herself.
    He caught that brazen stockinged foot before
it ventured higher. “We’ve got all afternoon. Silas and Caro are
visiting the neighbors, and Fen and Anthony are looking at property
in the area.”
    “Then let’s not waste time.”
    “I can’t seduce a woman who’s drunk,” he said
tartly. Despite his tone, he couldn’t help caressing the long,
elegant foot in his lap. He loved that she was built like a
greyhound, all slim speed and grace.
    In response to his touch, her lids lowered
further. “Very well.”
    Curiosity stilled his stroking hand. “Very
well?”
    “Yes.” A beat of silence. “Because I intend
to seduce you.”
    West’s heart crashed into his ribs, and the
world went black. That low, husky voice should have a danger sign
posted on it. He blinked to bring her back into focus. “Hel…”
    With taunting languor, she untied the
masculine cravat around her neck and dropped it to the tiled floor.
Her index finger strayed down her throat to pause at the high
collar of her white shirt. All the moisture dried from West’s
mouth, as his gaze fastened on that teasing hand.
    “I’m not drunk, West,” she murmured. “Just
nicely merry.”
    “Nonetheless…” The word emerged as a croak,
while he watched her flick the top pearl button open to reveal a
few inches of creamy skin. Every muscle tightened in expectation.
Which was ridiculous when that very morning, he’d seen her stark
naked.
    But there was something so damned stirring
about a woman proclaiming her desire in the middle of the day. At
any time of the day, really.
    Helena was the most imaginative person he
knew. The prospect of her devoting all that creativity to his
pleasure made him shake.
    Another button. Another few inches of
skin.
    West licked parched lips, and assured himself
that she knew what she