“I’m deadly serious.”
“Then you’re wasting your time.” She straightened and glared at him. Her mind worked a thousand miles an hour to make sense of this abrupt alteration in their dealings. “I was a rake’s wife. Be damned if I’ll be a rake’s mistress.”
The tension vibrating between them upset the mare and she shifted nervously. West patted Artemis’s glossy neck in reassurance.
“I know you’re frightened, Hel.” His voice was low and deep, and Helena resented that he sought to reassure her, too.
Her temper sparked, not least because he used her childhood nickname. “Devil take you, nothing frightens me.”
Despite her brave words, fear curdled her stomach and tasted sour in her mouth. She didn’t want Vernon Grange to pursue her. She wanted to stay safe in her lonely little eyrie. Nine tempestuous, miserable years with Crewe had left scars that had hardly healed in the eighteen months since his death.
“Love frightens you.”
“You don’t know what that word means.”
“Let’s not quarrel.” Calmly he offered Artemis’s reins. “Not today when I’ve worked so hard for your enjoyment. Come riding with me.”
She glowered at his hand as if it held poison. “That’s it? ‘I want you as my mistress, but we won’t fight about it, and now come for a canter?’”
His laugh made her itch to slap him. “Pretty much.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“My dear Helena, if you require a more emphatic declaration, I’m prepared to make my plans public. I’m only holding back to protect your reputation and help you become accustomed to my interest. If I kiss you in front of all these people, your fate is sealed.”
“As if I’d let you kiss me.”
“As if you could stop me.”
Curse him, now he’d mentioned kisses, she couldn’t stop staring at his firm, sharply defined lips, and wondering what he’d learned since those clumsy, but pleasurable experiments in the summerhouse.
She reminded herself that anything he’d learned, he’d learned through unbridled lechery. To her shame, that didn’t dilute her fascination.
“What about Caroline?” Her voice was flat. “Or are you covering your bets and chasing both of us?”
Humor lit his eyes, and he glanced across to where Caro fought a losing battle to avoid Silas. “On my honor, you’re the only woman I’m interested in. Caroline has her own fish to fry.”
Resentment and apprehension curdled in Helena’s belly. “I’m not listening to this nonsense.”
With a contemptuous flick of her blue skirts, she whirled away. She wished she’d never come to this cursed picnic. Since reaching adulthood, she hadn’t spent much time alone with West. That was clearly a good thing.
“Don’t go.” He caught her arm, holding her without force. Of course, after all that worldly experience, he knew how to handle a woman. “You’ll kick yourself if you don’t try Artemis.”
She glared at him, loathing his effortless confidence and unabashed sexual allure. Loathing that he was right—about the horse at least. “I’d rather kick you.”
A huff of laughter escaped him. “I’m sure you would. If I let you go, will you ride? Artemis is very sensitive. She thinks you don’t like her either.”
“Fool.” Despite everything, a trickle of warmth softened the insult.
“That’s not in question,” he said, and she unwillingly remembered how once she’d enjoyed sparring with him.
“I’m not dressed for riding.”
He glanced at her royal blue day dress with its jaunty gold military braid. “You’ll do. And you’re wearing half-boots.”
Good Lord, a man had a woman in his sights when he noticed what she was wearing. This conversation became more alarming by the second. “West—”
“I’m not suggesting we ride to Cornwall. You’re adequately fixed for a short run. I’d say different if you were done up in that devilish becoming red frock you wore to the Oldhams’ ball on Tuesday.”