“Can you tilt your head more toward me?” she requested, propping the wet paintbrush against her cheek and leaving another mark. “Oh don’t stand yet. I just need a few more minutes. What are you doing? You can’t come over here. You can’t look at it yet.”
But his feet had already met their mark, his thumb was in his mouth, and his hand reached down to her cheek. “You have some paint…here.”
Her skin was so soft. Like silk. Silk he wanted to rub between his fingers. He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, just staring at her.
“Dermont?” Her raspy voice cleared the fog surrounding him.
“Hmmm?”
“Is it gone?” she asked, licking her dry lips and peering up at him under a flourish of lashes.
“Just one more.” His thumb dragging slowly down her face languidly reaching her chin, tilted her face up to him. “There. Better.”
She was quite beautiful. Pale blue eyes with a soft spark lit from within. Golden sunshine for hair. And a body that any man could get lost in. Could grip onto. Not a waif of a thing that would break under any small amount of pressure.
“So you’re painting for pleasure then?”
Her head barely bobbed in his soft grip, but it was enough of a movement to indicate an answer in the affirmative.
“Are you seeking any other pleasure?” What had come over him? What was he doing? Seducing an innocent? In his study? Where was even going? Their faces were scant inches from each other. He could lean down and take her mouth in his so easily. Flip up her skirts and take her.
Her eyes dropped to his chest and her breath hitched in her throat, but as his fingers slid outward, down her neck, he could feel a strong, steady pulse.
The thrumming inside of her wasn’t so unexpected as the fact that it matched his own.
It was so loud it was practically knocking on his chest.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Dermont?”
“Yes?”
“There’s someone at the door,” she said in an altogether too husky voice.
Damn.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Chapter 8
Honoria
The knock at the door stopped Dermont’s fingers in their tracks. It did not however stop the thumping of Honoria’s heart that was so loud she thought the neighbors could hear it. To put distance between them, Dermont stealthily retreated several steps and answered the door with his voice, inviting his sister inside. Meanwhile, Honoria was distinctly relieved not to answer his question about pleasure.
Pleasure?! Really. Of all things. She was not here to be ravished by the God-structured duke. Was she?
A sinking pit fell into her stomach with a plop.
“How’s the painting going?” Phoebe asked with a sheepish smile, hands caressing her pet ferret as she entered the room.
“I rather think it’s going quite well, though Honoria won’t let me look at it.” He almost sounded a bit cross, but Honoria shook that interpretation of his tone from her observations.
Feeling scattered from the near—whatever it was that had just about happened only a moment ago—Honoria looked around for something to cover her work. There hadn’t been a kiss. There wasn’t going to be a kiss. Yet…she felt so vulnerable. So exposed. “I’ve hardly got anything done—” But Phoebe was already at her side.
She cooed, “That sketch is an incredible likeness. It looks quite like the miniature—”
“Thank you for the compliment,” in desperation, Honoria cut her off.