Page 43 of The Duke of her Dreams

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Helen closed the door behind her and clicked the lock into place. She did not want her aunt to walk into a special moment and ruin it with her talk about religion and sin. Theodore had hinted that it was a special gift, unlike the numerous bouquets of lilies and roses that littered the drawing-room.

She handled the knife expertly, tearing through the paper wrappings. It only took a minute for Helen to fully unearth the special gift. Happiness shot through her in one powerful wave when she saw the gift.

It was a book, one of her favorite literary works.Silent Dreams.

The gift was the latest issue, one that Helen wanted to get her hands on ever since she arrived in London. Sonya searched the market, looking for the seller, but he had disappeared into thin air, and no one knew his whereabouts.

Nevertheless, she picked up the book and opened the first page. A small sheet of paper slipped from the pages and pirouetted in the air before falling gently to the ground. Helen picked it up, eyeing the gentle script.

When you are alone, you can think of me. Find the feeling and enjoy it deeply, sensuous yet softly but surely incomparable. Reach the edge, tether above it and hold, and my face you shall see as you soar.

It was signed with a single T. Helen thought her mind was going to explode. She felt deeply embarrassed, but passion danced through her. She could feel his tongue in her mouth, a kiss so deep that it never ended unless they stopped to catch their breaths.

Helen could feel the glimmering on her skin, her blood roaring in her ears. She had gotten weaned off the addiction, but Theodore’s words were bringing everything back. Yearning to experience the feeling yet again, Helen slipped out of her dress. Climbing the bed, she moved under the coverlets. She felt Theodore’s breath on her skin, warm and soft. The words from the notes guided her hands down to her firm and tender bosom.

Helen thought of what Aunt Gertrude would say if she was caught in such a position. She clamped down her thoughts for a moment, but the pressure in her mind was building by the second. Helen succumbed to the feeling and touched herself, just like Theodore asked her to.

This time, she did not think of Jack Whitticombe. In her mind’s eye, she saw Theodore’s chestnut locks and dark blue eyes. His lips were pursed, thin and firm. A moan escaped her lips as she felt desire ram into her gut. His muscles were all around her, thighs holding her in a lock. She could smell him, pine and citrus filling her up.

She arched her back, heart thudding in her chest. Pleasure streaked through her body, causing moans and gasps to be wrenched from her petite body. Helen’s hands danced around her body, sending streams of heat in every direction.

Getting close to the climax, Helen held, just like Theodore suggested in his attached note. She saw him seducing her, running fingers over her body. Helen shuddered, feeling the pressure build up in her loins. It was beautiful, ecstatic even. The feeling continued to rise, overwhelming her as she reached a crescendo. The pinnacle of it all.

A tidal wave of passion and pleasure gripped Helen. Light and fire exploded within her as beads of sweat rolled down her skin. It was even more beautiful than she had ever felt before in her entire life. Bliss enveloped her in its cocoon, carrying her farther than she ever imagined.

She sank into the sheets, pushing the matter hair from her face. Thinking about Theodore, she passed into oblivion.

ChapterEighteen

From afar, Theodore could see his grandmother casting furtive glances at him. She was engaged in a conversation with Helen’s aunt, Gertrude, who was not only quite talkative like his grandmother said but also bordering on the edges of fanaticism. Theodore wanted to rush to the Dowager’s aid, but he had to keep up the pretense — something he was finding hard to do.

“Pray tell, did you find my gift appealing?” he asked, resting his back on the hard trunk.

A sly smile appeared on her face, one that Theodore missed seeing. “I must say that I did enjoy that issue, after spending so long without one. It makes me want to find the writer even more.”

“That is merely a pipe dream,” he advised. “The writer has been producing for years now without getting caught. Although, I believe it is the work of a commoner.”

“A commoner?” she asked, fanning her bosom, and Theodore was finding it hard to look away from it. “What makes you think that?”

Theodore stared at Helen’s baby blue eyes, feeling himself drawn into them. He broke away after a while, trying hard to hide the embarrassment crawling all over his face.

“If they were among theton, I am sure that the author would have been caught by now. Seeing how servants have become gossip peddlers, one might tell another that their master writes such sinful books.”

She laughed. “Now you are sounding like Aunt Gertrude. Do I need to be worried?”

He waved his hand lazily. “Of course not. Do you know how my grandmother feels about every promenade?”

Helen smiled at him, trailing her fingers on the sleeve of his coat. “I have lived with my aunt for weeks on end, Your Grace. The Dowager is really going through a lot. Religious talk, I presume?”

“Any more, and I might just take the nearest carriage back to Wallington. I knew you were tired of such talk,” he said, feeling his blood rush in his veins at the movement of her fingertips, “and that is why I included the note.”

Helen blushed furiously and was immediately grateful that she brought her fan. It helped hide her embarrassment and the agitated rise and fall of her breasts when his breath warmed her lips.

“Can we move away from here?” he asked suddenly. “I heard the maze is quite a sight to behold.”

“The lover’s maze, you mean?” Helen asked. “I am sure that you have visited it every time. Your rakish status definitely tells me so.”

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