Chapter 12 #2
She didn’t want to be intimate with Helena, that much was obvious in her hesitation.
But there was no way to avoid the situation.
Helena needed to reassure Cynthia all would be well.
She would control her desires. She would do everything in her power to make Cynthia as comfortable as she could in this impossible situation.
Cynthia turned back to her, hazel eyes swimming in sorrow.
‘I never would have let you come with me if I knew Hubert was so deeply in Sinclair’s pocket.
How can you ever forgive me for forcing you into such an awful mess?
I know you were never fond of me. I suppose this well and truly destroys any chance we have of becoming friends. ’
‘Friends?’ Is that what worried Cynthia? That Helena wouldn’t want to be chums after this?
‘Silly, I know. But I desperately hoped you would one day grow to like me.’ Cynthia’s voice was husky.
Helena could see the upper globes of her breasts expand and contract against the black lace of her scandalous costume.
She wanted to press a kiss just there. To taste her skin and know if it was sweet, salty, or a heady blend of both.
Helena shook her head. This was wrong. Allowing Cynthia to apologise for a moment Helena would undeniably enjoy, regardless of why they were in this position, was unbearable.
‘I do like you.’
Cynthia rolled her eyes. ‘Of course you do. I’m sure you hold great affection for every woman who forces you to pose scandalously in photos at the risk of your reputation, livelihood, and family honour.’
Helena exhaled a frustrated breath. ‘My family’s view on honour is distinctly different from anyone you’ve encountered. Trust me.’
‘I suppose witches don’t need to curry favour with the beau monde.’
Helena couldn’t stop the small smile. ‘We rarely curry favour with anyone. Do I like that Sinclair is forcing us to do this? No. But you must know, if the circumstances were altered, if he was not part of this deal, I would have no objections to posing in photos with you, scandalous or not.’
A charming wrinkle formed between Cynthia’s brows. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I find you impossibly attractive.’
Cynthia’s mouth fell open on a silent inhalation.
Helena pushed on, knowing they had scant moments remaining to reach an understanding.
If she didn’t speak the rest in a rush, she would lose her courage to say it at all.
‘I have no shame in admiring women rather than men, though many consider such attraction to be twisted.’ She waited a beat, giving Cynthia a chance to respond.
When she remained silent, Helena forged onward.
‘I have never acted on my impulses with someone unless there was a mutual understanding, but… I fear I won’t be able to hide my desire for you during this debacle.
I won’t have you apologising for putting me in a situation that, were Sinclair not present, would pose no hardship for me.
It is I who should apologise to you. Try as I might, I fear I won’t escape this evening without experiencing some element of pleasure in our intimacy that I know you won’t share.
It’s unforgiveable, but I can’t see a way around it.
Just know, I will do whatever I can to respect your boundaries, no matter what he asks of us.
You are frightened, and there is much reason for that, but I don’t ever want you to fear me, Cynthia. ’
There. I said it. And it was just as awful as I expected.
Helena wasn’t accustomed to embarrassment.
She knew who she was and felt no shame in her magical powers or her sexual desires.
But admitting her attraction to Cynthia, knowing full well it would not be returned, was rather ghastly.
Still, she would not risk there being a misunderstanding between them.
She couldn’t help the pull she felt towards Cynthia, but she could reassure her there were no expectations.
‘You really can’t read my thoughts, can you?’
Helena was caught off guard. She cocked her head. ‘Pardon?’
‘Are you certain you can destroy the photographs?’
The swift change in conversation had her floundering.
‘Er, yes. Reasonably certain. He’ll have to develop each plate right away, so I will need to wait until he is satisfied with his pictures.
But as we are leaving, I’m quite sure I can use my witchwater to flood the negative box and wash away the chemicals holding our images.
Whatever photographs he has, I can destroy as well.
When I’m done, he’ll have ruined negatives and soaking photos of two indistinguishable figures. ’
Cynthia caught one of Helena’s rebellious curls and slowly tucked it behind her ear.
‘You are a wonder.’ She brushed her fingers along Helena’s jaw in a whisper of sensation.
‘As you have been honest with me, allow me to return the favour.’ With painstaking care, she pressed a chaste kiss against Helena’s cheek.
It was a casual gesture women used in greetings every day.
But here, now, Helena felt the brush of Cynthia’s lips against her skin, and her desire turned liquid.
Cynthia didn’t pull away, but spoke into the crook of Helena’s neck.
‘I don’t find your attraction to women twisted in the slightest. And the only desires I fear are my own.
I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.
’ She stepped back. Helena ached at the loss of her warmth.
‘It’s terrifying. You captivate me. And a sick bastard like Sinclair doesn’t deserve to witness whatever this magic is between us.
He is why this is a mistake. Not you. Not me.
Not us.’ She turned, nearly touching her chin to her shoulder. ‘Will you take down my hair?’
Helena’s fingers shook as she carefully removed every pin holding Cynthia’s hair captive and desperately tried to process the woman’s words.
As each silken rope fell free, she inhaled vanilla and honeysuckle, taking Cynthia’s scent into her lungs and holding her there.
When the glorious mahogany mass of curls hung free, she leaned forward, pressing her nose into the soft waves, her hands falling to Cynthia’s waist and pulling her tight against her hips.
She cursed the bustle separating their bodies.
‘I see you’re ready.’ Sinclair’s rasp was an unwelcome interruption.
Helena felt the cool rush of power growing in her core.
It would be so easy to call forth the water, hold it in her palm, force a swell of liquid rage to crash down upon Sinclair with the force of a tidal wave.
But he doubtless had an army on the other side of the door, waiting to protect their leader.
Cynthia stepped out of Helena’s embrace and moved to the chaise. ‘What exactly do you want us to do?’
Help me get what’s rightfully mine. Sinclair’s lips twitched in a tight smile.
He stepped to the camera. A table, next to where the photographic box sat on a stand, held various plates and a shallow dish.
Sinclair pulled free a glass plate and dipped it carefully into the dish, which held silver nitrate.
He quickly slid the plate into the camera and directed Helena to sit on the chaise with Cynthia perched on her lap.
‘Tangle your fingers in her hair, yes. Like that. Now pull her closer.’
Helena did as he asked, pulling Cynthia so close, their lips were only a breath apart. The weight of her grounded Helena, holding her present in the moment.
She could lose herself in the greens and browns of Cynthia’s eyes.
So many different shades of the forest. Silver sage, deep moss, rich bark, surrounded by a darker rim that held the universe captive.
Her free hand tightened around Cynthia’s corseted waist, and she wished to feel the softness of her skin beneath.
Cynthia’s breath washed over her in puffs as she licked her lips. Helena could feel the heat pouring off Cynthia in waves. She longed to taste her mouth. Explore the hidden depths. Show Cynthia what pleasure could be found between two people who wanted each other as desperately as she wanted her.
The snap of the lens cover clicking back into place pulled Helena back to the present. She blinked as Cynthia stiffened her spine.
Sinclair’s eyes turned hard. His mouth flattened as vicious curses filled his head.
Perhaps he had an issue with sapphic women.
But getting upset made no sense. He was making them pose.
They were the ones being blackmailed. Helena couldn’t push deeper into his thoughts to determine the root of his bitterness without her eyes shifting to silver.
In such close quarters, he would see the abrupt change, and she couldn’t risk giving him any more ammunition against them.
The last thing she needed was for a man like Sinclair to suspect she might be a witch.
He quickly pulled the glass plate free, dipped a new one in the shallow dish of silver nitrate and inserted it into the camera.
‘Lady Burrows, stand behind Miss Blair. Miss Blair, show me your profile. Lady Burrows, press your mouth to her neck, just there.’