Page 21 of Duke of Seduction

When the eleven singers have sung.

Last time you were snow,

But tonight you are ash.

Though either will melt at the touch of my brush.

X

Hades

Helena read it over again, both her smile and excitement growing as her mind worked to solve the riddle. The first time she had received his letter she had been forced to wait two nights to see Morgan. Now she had none, which meant she was to arrive at his back gate later that evening. Eleven singers, eleven tolls of the bell. She had to be there by eleven.

She reread the last three lines.Snow. Ash. Snow. Ash.She had been snow? Suddenly it clicked. Her gown. It was white. Likesnow.He wanted her to wear black tonight. And the last lines were obvious. She would be posing for him. Nude. Just as she had promised.

Forgetting completely about her awful day, Helena slowly towed the letter and its envelope beneath the surface of her steaming bathwater. The brilliant crimson dye leeched slowly from the paper and moved outward in little ripples until it turned the entire bath a brilliant red. Helena watched, transfixed, as the dye reached her flesh and seeped into it.

Remarkably similar to how I seeped into Morgan’s lap the other night.

Helena stood up and watched the scarlet water run in little drops down her breasts, tickling her nipples that had hardened from the cool brush of air. She tilted her head curiously as she watched the droplets continue their path, sultrily making their way over her navel and her taut abdomen.

Helena pulled her eyes away and stepped out of the tub just as the multiple droplets converged and flowed down into her pulsing sex. She reached over and retrieved the sodden letter from the tub and tossed it onto the fire. It hit the logs with a resounding hiss that made her tremble.

Glancing at the clock, she was alarmed to see that she had only an hour left to get ready. After toweling off she unpinned her dark blonde curls from the top of her head and let them cascade downwards until they came to a rest beside the two dimples on her lower back.

She had no other black gown, but she did have a black gauzy shift she could not deny herself last summer at the modiste’s. It had an empire fit, but the neckline dipped down into a lowVthat nearly reached her navel. It had come with a wide, shimmering, watermelon pink ribbon to tie around the waist, but she ignored it and pulled on her most conservative, pale pink dressing gown.

In a sudden burst of creativity, Helena returned to her bath with a clean linen cloth and dipped it into the crimson water until the white fabric was saturated with color. Taking it back to her dressing table, she then reached for a small brush and added some salve to the cloth, swirling it with the brush until it also adopted the crimson shade. She carefully applied it to her cheeks and lips until she had created a warm, soft pink glow on her clear, creamy face.

Her heart began to hammer as she studied her reflection. Her blue eyes were shining and dilated, her lips dewy and full as they drew in an excited breath. She could not deny that she was somewhat terrified, but every fiber of her being willed her to overcome her reservations about being seen naked by a man. By Morgan.

In the aftermath of such an awful day, she had needed this more than she had realized. She wanted him to do everything in his power to mesmerize her the way he had the other night, and chase away her reality. Helena dripped a few drops of honeysuckle oil behind her ears, and retrieved her cloak. She had ten minutes to get to the gate but she would only need three.

CHAPTER TEN

“Iam going to hell for this,” Morgan whispered, closing his eyes as the first strike of eleven rang out from the nearest church.

He was by the gate, his body tense and agitated from two days of pure torture. Helena had opened herself up to him with her first kiss exactly as he had hoped, but what he had not foreseen was the painful, slamming need that pained his testicles the moment she stepped into his carriage and drove away. He had already booked a night at one of his favorite bedding dens to relieve himself of his unanswered need.

He went through one woman, then two, then four. Dawn slowly bled into noon and was absorbed by the evening. Even after a dozen women and an additional night at the brothel, he had not been sated. There was no act he did not venture into with those willing woman, but no matter how debauched or intense his encounters were, it was never enough to rid himself of the longing that plagued him.

No matter how uniquely beautiful or different the women were, Morgan only had eyes for Helena. He heard Helena’s voice. He drew in the phantom scent of her. He only felt how she had writhed in his lap, so grateful and responsive to finally be immersed in her most sought after experience. How delicious her lips and tongue had tasted; a taste which still sat on his tongue like thick honey, and damn him if he did not want more.

Still, despite such intense sensations clashing within him, Morgan fought to maintain control. Helena wanted to learn from him, and he was not going to ruin that.

He had wanted to paw at her body the other night, cup and pinch her breasts, slap his palms against her thighs, but he had restrained himself, only using his fingertips to draw out her delightful shivers. She deserved to be taught with patience and willpower, and he was going to give her that.

Helena’s knock came at the eleventh toll of the bell, exactly as instructed, and he felt his heart stop in his chest as he opened the gate and saw her piercing blue eyes looking up at him from beneath the hood of her cloak. It seemed to take several seconds for his heart to find another beat, but when it did, it slammed into him like a fist, and he finally remembered to breathe.

“I do adore how clever you are,” he managed to tease, pulling her inside.

Helena smirked and kept her hand in his as they walked towards the house.

“Your riddles are fun,” she replied. “I like them.”

For some reason that touched him, and he could not help the flattered smile he gave her.

“However,” she went on, her tone full of mischief, “giving me less than an hour this evening to prepare myself was not as enjoyable.”

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