Helena remembered only too well Bryan’s visit to England five years ago. And the fury in the accusing look he’d shot in her direction when he’d arrived and seen what Emma had done to her normally rich brown hair…‘And I’ve always been envious of your amazing green eyes,’ Emma continued longingly. ‘Plus, you’ve become one of the most successful interior designers in London.’‘Mainly due to you and other mutual friends employing me,’ Helena pointed out dryly.‘That’s irrelevant,’ Emma said firmly. ‘Your grandfather should be proud of you and your achievements!’Helena couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s chagrin on her behalf. ‘The thing is, my mother couldn’t have any more children after me, so that pretty well took care of there ever being a male heir.’‘Your grandfather is only a land-owner, for goodness’ sake, not nobility!’ Emma scoffed.And, being descended from nobility herself, Emma was in a position to know the difference!Helena smiled wistfully. ‘Same thing as far as Grandfa
Bryan Smith was thirty-seven now, to Helena's almost twenty-four, and the crush Helena had once had on the arrogant English had—as Emma so rightly pointed out—developed into antagonism on both sides. Out of dislike and disapproval on Bryan’s side—especially after Helena's brief marriage and divorce—and out of pure self-defence on hers.She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘We just don’t like each other.’‘But why don’t you?’ Emma pressed, frustrated. ‘I know I’m his sister, but you have to admit that Bryan is the epitome of “tall, dark, and handsome”, and he has such a dangerous sexual aura about him that he should come with a public health warning. And you’re absolutely gorgeous—’‘So you already said,’ Helena teased. ‘None of which alters the fact that your brother makes me break out in a rash every time I see him, and that I seem to have the same effect on him.’‘It’s a total mystery to me,’ Emma continued. ‘Bryan is usually so stiffly correct, so—so English, that I simply don’t understand
His mouth tightened. Ten years ago, he had not approved of or understood Emma’s affection and friendship for the gawky English girl she had only known for less than a year and had absolutely refused to allow his sister to complete her education in England so that she could remain in England with her new friend. Emma had eventually complied with his decision, of course, and instead continued the friendship by telephone and letter.Then, at the age of eighteen, a much more stubbornly determined Emma informed him that she intended to attend an English university, and she had instantly met up with Helena Bosch again. If anything, the friendship between the two women had become all the stronger as they had matured.Admittedly, Helena had grown into a confident woman of passable beauty, and Emma reported that she was very successful as an interior designer, but Bryan still did not approve of her as a friend for his young sister. Even less so after Helena's brief marria
‘You aren’t supposed to know it’s me.’ Helena frowned behind her mask.‘We discussed these dresses once—don’t you remember?’ her friend said as Helena moved to kiss a Duke-of-Wellington-costumed Byron.As it happened, Helena did remember the time she and Emma had lain under an oak tree in the school grounds, waxing lyrical about how romantic it must have been to live in the seventeenth century with all those manly heroes from the historical novels they’d devoured. Until they had remembered that there had been no plumbing for instant hot baths in those times, nor the convenience of the telephone!But like Emma, Helena hadn’t been able to resist wearing a beautiful gown in the style of that century this evening.‘You both look very beautiful,’ Byron told them gallantly.He was nothing like those dark, almost satanic heroes Helena and Emma had once drooled over, with his hair a golden blond and his eyes blue, but there was no doubting the happiness of Emma and Byron’s marriage, which Hel
Would she? The idea certainly had its appeal. But who was this man? The dark hair, swarthy skin and slight accent gave no clue other than that he was probably a Smith relative. What if he should turn out—horror of horrors!—to be Bryan Smith himself?It would be just her luck, when they all removed their masks at midnight, to discover she had spent the evening flirting with Bryan!No, she realised with some relief as she glanced briefly across at the other Smith men. They had just been joined by a sixth man, even taller than they were and dressed very lavishly, and his regal air of arrogance was unmistakably that of Emma’s brother.Helena relaxed slightly as she turned back to the pirate at her side. ‘And what do I call you?’‘What would you like to call me?’ he countered.Helena felt a quiver of excitement down her spine as her body was suffused with a heat that was in no way connected to the warmth of this beautiful summer evening.This really was a seductive experience, she thought.
‘I think perhaps we should go somewhere a little more—private. Do you agree?’ he murmured ruefully.She hesitated only fractionally before giving an affirmative nod of her head.Bryan moved back slightly, his hand sliding caressingly down her arm before he laced his fingers with her much smaller ones, only lingering long enough to once more kiss her hungrily on the lips before he turned to guide her towards the relative privacy of his sister’s home.Helena felt slightly dazed by the intensity of her arousal, was beyond thought, beyond anything but being the focus of this man’s single-minded desire.She wanted to be naked with him, wanted to touch and caress the broadness of his muscled back, ached to feel all that nakedness against her own. There would be plenty of time tomorrow, all her tomorrows, to be the much more cautious and emotionally bruised Helena Botch.On paper she was a twenty-four-year-old divorcee. But t
She breathed shallowly as she lowered her arms to allow the gown to fall shimmering to the floor. She slipped her feet out of the gold slippers and dispensed with the cumbersome hoops to stand before him wearing only the tight corset with matching cream silk French knickers.‘No, leave it,’ he growled throatily as Helena would have reached up to undo the twenty or so hooks down the front of the corset. His gaze was intent on her masked face as he threw off his waistcoat and the black sash before moving to stand in front of her. ‘I have always wondered what it would be like to remove one of these,’ he admitted. ‘I am going to very much enjoy finding out.’ His accent had thickened in his deepening desire.Helena hoped that it felt as sensually arousing to him as it did to her as he slowly undid the hooks, one by one, as he savoured the moment her breasts were free and he could brush his fingers lightly over their pouting tips. Helena's breath caught in her throat as he lightly caressed
Her skin was like velvet, and she groaned her pleasure at each stroke of his hand, that groan becoming a soft mewling noise as he moved lower still, seeking and finding the hardened nub between those silken curls to roll his tongue against it slowly, rhythmically, caressingly.Helena felt boneless as waves of pleasure washed up and through her, turning to rigid tension as she felt another climax rapidly approaching.It was too much—She couldn’t—‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘I want—I need—’‘Tell me what you need and want, my beautiful lady,’ he encouraged gruffly.‘You,’ she gasped, reaching down for him, fingernails digging into those broad shoulders. ‘I need you!’‘Then you shall have me,’ Bryan assured her, moving up and over her. ‘All of me.’He gave a primeval groan as he entered her and buried himself inside her