“Resented you?”
“Yes.” But instead of explaining, she said, “So what if, in your hypothetical scenario, this man doesn’t respect this woman’s space?”
Richard’s expression softened. “Then he’s an absolute bastard who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. You understand that, yes? A man should always respect your space, Anne. Always.”
Her smile was small. “Thank you. Please continue with the lesson.”
“Firstly, let’s assume both participants very much want to be there. Flirtation is about talking. Conversation. Space expresses either friendly interest or something more.”
Richard shifted back until he was a polite distance from her. “Friends,” he said, motioning between them. “Now, ask me something. Anything.”
She laughed and paused to consider that. “All right. What are your siblings like?”
“Ah, good question. Very friendly. My brother James is more practical-minded than myself, as being an earl is a great deal of work. In my father’s near complete absence from our lives, he raised my sister and me. Alexandra, in contrast, would probably conquer the entire world were she only slightly more organized. She’s an authoress who writes essays about women’s issues and the underclasses. Exceedingly dull, idiotic people think her ideas too extreme and unladylike.”
“How lucky you are. They sound lovely.”
“They are.” Richard moved closer and motioned between them again. “Flirtation. Ask me something else.”
“Where did you grow up?”
Richard smiled, and this time, he let his attraction for her show in his expression. “Hampshire,” he said. “At our estate near a lovely little village called Stoughton. But I quite like London. More to do, pretty ladies to see,” he said, widening his grin. “Sometimes they even drop into my house in the middle of the night.”
Anne laughed. “I see now what flirting is. It has an element of teasing, yes? You do it quite well.”
“Oh, I’m not done.” He leaned in closer. “Intimate, beyond flirtation. This distance would only be acceptable in private. Ask me one last question.”
This was what lovers did while in bed. They spoke with their lips almost touching, for there was an understanding between them, already established. No question of propriety. In private, lovers could behave however they deemed fit.
“What were you thinking about earlier?” she asked. “When I was standing under the archway?”
Richard considered lying. Saying something utterly harmless about how independence suited her. How she looked different from the woman who visited his house a mere fortnight ago, for while her eyes remained like steel, they were not as wary or distrusting.
But he had promised her honesty in all things, and he would not go back on his word.
He touched two fingers to her cheek and murmured, “I thought about how magnificent you looked there, silhouetted against the light. I imagined what it would be like to undress you slowly and kiss every bare inch of you.”
Anne’s mouth had parted. He thought he saw desire in her gaze, but before he could think much on it, she flashed a grin. “That was excellent. Little wonder you’ve charmed so many women. You’re quite good at this.”
Richard leaned back and bit into another grape. Of course she thought he was simply playing his role. Of course. He considered correcting her, but what would that accomplish? She wasn’t here to be seduced.
“Let me try now.” She shifted until her skirts draped over his trousers.
“Try what?”
“Intimate talk. What if I’m alone with a gentleman I fancy? I ought to know this, shouldn’t I?”
He got the feeling he’d made some mistake, but as god as his witness, he couldn’t identify it.
So he only cleared his throat and said, “Yes. Quite.”
Anne’s face grew serious with concentration. She leaned forward and touched him. Just her palm on his chest, but his breath caught as she slid her hand to the back of his neck to urge him closer. A kissing distance.
“The words of intimacy are foreign to me,” she whispered, “but I know a few things. Like how I imagine what it would be like to press my lips just here —” Her thumb brushed his pulse — “and taste you. How would you sound if I did that? If I slid your clothes off and kissed all the way down—”
“Anne,” he groaned.
The little vixen leaned away and laughed. “You look as though you’ve just swallowed a plank of wood. Was I that bad?”
“You were . . .” Too good. Too damn good. Christ, he was hard again. “You learn very quickly, I’ll say that for you.”
She drank more of her wine and smiled slowly. It was the most gorgeous damn smile he’d ever seen, dimple and all.
Yes, he’d made a mistake. He’d definitely made a mistake.
He wanted her.
Chapter 9
The following afternoon, Richard took Anne to the cottage a short distance from the estate. It was white-washed with blue trim, and covered over in English ivy. The rose bushes that surrounded the exterior were in full bloom, lending the place a storybook feel, which was no doubt Caroline’s intention when she designed it.
Anne reached out to touch a red rose by the front door. “What a peaceful cottage,” she murmured, caressing the rose. “No wonder you wanted us to come yesterday. Does it belong to the gardener or the game keeper?”
“Neither,” Richard said, drawing closer. “This is Caro’s private studio. She’s cleared it out for our use.”
Anne looked beautiful out here, the color in her cheeks high from their stroll. Her smile was small, but content. She’d held it since their lessons the day before.
Freedom agreed with her.
Richard had noticed it during their walks, how her eyes had begun to warm and she looked at him with the smallest glimmer of trust. It pleased him to see, though he did not wish to consider why.
She pushed open the wooden door and Richard followed her inside.
Caroline had had the entire place cleaned, swept, and aired out before their arrival. The scent of lemons permeated throughout, lovingly complimented by the fresh perfume of roses from outside.
Anne grazed her hand along the back of a chair in the sitting room. The furniture was plush and comfortable, made for lounging rather than aesthetics. Caroline designed the place with relaxation in mind, even including a small bedchamber to rest between painting sessions. Richard knew for a fact the duchess came here when she needed to work without disturbance. It was her sanctuary.
And, for now, it would be his and Anne’s.
“How incredible,” Anne murmured, pausing to look at one of Caroline’s paintings. It was from her Henry Morgan collection, depicting Eros and Psyche caught in a nude embrace. The canvas was so large, it consumed nearly half the wall. “I wish I could still paint. Not that I was even a fraction as talented,” she hastened to assure him. “But I enjoyed it. I used to attempt watercolors.”
“Used to?” Richard cocked his head. “Isn’t that a frequent hobby for ladies?”
“Yes.” Anne straightened. “But Kendal did not like the mess I made of my clothes. And so my father threw out my work.” As Richard thought of something to say, she brushed her fingertips along the frame. “Henry Morgan. I remember his work in the National Gallery. I felt as if I spent hours admiring each one.”
“Her,” Richard said with a smile.
Anne glanced over at him. “Sorry?”
“Her work. Henry Morgan is Caroline’s pseudonym.”
“My word,” Anne said in surprise. “Why wouldn’t she claim credit for these? Everyone loves them.”
“Because the scandal would overshadow the quality of the paintings. People would call them perversions.” At her confused expression, Richard shifted closer. “You understand the limitations society imposes on women. Even duchesses aren’t exempt.”
Anne nodded. “Because they are nude.”
“That’s certainly part of it. There’s
also the content.” He dipped his head toward hers, as if to impart a secret. “Eros is a demigod, and Psyche a mere human. Yet do you notice the way he gazes at her?” he murmured. “He’s worshipping her as if she were a goddess.”
“Is that bad?” Anne asked.
“No. But this is an intimate moment, is it not? He’s inside her. Pleasuring her. Don’t you see the ecstasy on her face? On his?”
He heard the hitch in her breath as she looked again at the painting.
But when he thought she might flush, she only smiled. Then she said something that surprised the hell out of him: “They’re both enjoying it. How lovely.”
She stared at that painting as if she were imagining herself as Psyche — head thrown back as her winged lover pleasured her. Richard found himself struck once more by desire. It unnerved him. The force of it came like some fevered illness he couldn’t control and worse, didn’t wish to.
For the truth was plain: Richard was caught in her thrall. He wanted to see her expression when she came. How would she look when he plunged inside her? How would she sound? How would she feel?
Calm yourself. Step away. “Now you understand why there would be a scandal,” he said, putting some space between them.
Could he breathe easier now? No, for she looked to the portrait beside it.
And worse: It was one of Richard, painted from the back to hide his face. He had depicted Achilles with his shield and sword, standing at the gates of Troy as he dared Hector into battle. It was a favorite of Caroline’s, among the first she’d ever attempted of Richard during their friendship.
Anne was gazing at his naked body.
God help him.
“I only wish she didn’t have to hide it,” Anne said with a sigh. “The level of detail is astonishing. So different from her landscapes. She certainly chooses beautiful subjects.”
Richard’s smile was slow. If she was going to admire his form, he might as well enjoy it. His body already felt like it was going through hellfire, no changing that. “Like this one, do you?”
“Yes.” She raised her hand to the painting, not quite touching. “Look at the shadows here. The way she’s painted his muscles, the veins along his arms. I recall several ladies swooning at the gallery — or, at least, pretending to.”
“What about you? Did you pretend to swoon?” He was being an underhanded, vain bastard now, but he wanted her to keep talking.
She laughed. “To maintain my performance, yes. Us debutantes have rare occasion to see men in the nude before marriage, so we have to claim it’s shocking or people will know we like it too much. These are so very realistic and painstakingly detailed, as if done by a lover.”
“Caroline remains devoted to her husband. Certainly, she’s never slept with this particular model.”
“Oh? How do you know?”
Richard’s grin turned wicked now. “Because this is a painting of me.”
Anne’s jaw dropped. She looked from him, to the painting, back to him . . . to the painting. And her cheeks turned pink.
Nothing was more beautiful than a blushing redhead, that was for damn certain.
Then, all at once, she smiled. “This is the secret you spoke of on the train. I thought it wasn’t yours to share.”
“It wasn’t until you admired my naked arse. Then I couldn’t help myself.”
She was laughing now, clearly not embarrassed at all that he’d caught her looking. Richard warmed. She was full of surprises. He liked that about her.
“You’re so arrogant, Richard,” Anne said, shaking her head. “She ought to paint you as Narcissus.”
“So you say. Admit it, Anne. You’re only looking for another opportunity to see me in the nude,” he said with a wink.
“I have dozens of opportunities now, don’t I?” Richard didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered over the painting without an ounce of shame. “I need only visit the gallery again if I want to see your naked arse. It’s quite pretty.”
Now Richard was the one blushing. Good god, she was incredible. He . . .
Well, he was quite beginning to adore her.
“You’re trying to shock me,” he said to her.
“You try to shock me all the time, using the words you do. Tit for tat, Richard.”
“Ah, now we’re speaking of tits, are we? This conversation just got more interesting.”
She shook her head with amusement. “You’re such a scoundrel. Shall we begin a lesson?”
He could certainly use the distraction from their previous topic, but what he had planned would not help the issue of his desire. Even so, he wasn’t some lad just out of the schoolroom. He could control himself.
“Come.” Richard gestured with his fingers. “Let’s start with a dance.”
She wrinkled her nose. “A dance.”
“You do dance, don’t you?” he asked, taking her hand.
Anne raised an eyebrow. “I am not completely unschooled in the ways of polite society, sir.”
“Good. In a few days, the other guests will arrive, and the house party will formally begin with a ball. That is where you will make your impression. Now place your hand on my shoulder.”
She sighed and did as he asked. An unexpected jolt went through him at her touch. Of course, he was used to a woman’s touch, but hers was soft, hesitant.
In that moment, he wondered if she’d felt it, too. Her cheeks flushed again, and she lowered her gaze before he could study the emotion there. He found himself wanting to meet her eyes, to see into their depths. To know everything she was thinking in that remarkable mind of hers.
Richard drew her closer. “There. Easy enough.”
“I already know how to dance,” she reminded him. “And there’s no music.”
“We don’t need music. Watch.” He began to move the steps of a waltz, and she followed, reluctantly at first. She was a fine dancer, light on her feet. Graceful. “Seduction begins here,” he murmured close to her ear. She smelled like roses. He loved it.
“With a dance?” Was that a smile in her voice? Look at me, he thought. Look at me.
“A dance,” he said. “A conversation.” He tightened his hold on her. “A touch. Just enough to leave them wanting more.”
Small things amounted to so much. He could have told her she was something of an expert already. That what she had shared with Richard made him curious enough to imagine her in his bed, his cock inside her, her screaming his name.
“How do I do that?”
Her question drew him from his reverie. Focus, Richard. “Look at me.” He felt her exhale before she raised her eyes to meet his. God, yes. Her irises were extraordinary — brown with flecks of green, deep enough to hold a universe of secrets. She required a husband who could meet them directly. “That’s it.”
Her lashes fluttered as she lowered her eyes once more. “Kendal and my father said men prefer—”
“Men who are like them. Not like me.”
“Very well. Men like you, then. What do men like you prefer?”
“Shall I be honest with you? In frank language?”
“Yes. Always.”
He couldn’t help but press his cheek to hers, the slightest of touches. “I prefer to meet a woman’s gaze directly. When I converse with her, and when I fuck her.” He felt her start. “Have I shocked you?”
Her smile was small, barely there. Somehow, it felt like a victory. He had won so many out of her today and yesterday; they had been freely given. He loved seeing her smile with him. He woke up this morning with a longing to coax another out of her. To—
Stop, he told himself. In the future it would not be him who made her laugh. No, not him. It would be some other man.
“Not shock,” she told him. “I’m not accustomed to such plain speaking. I like it.” She laughed. “Does that make me scandalous?”
“Yes,” he told her. “But I enjoy a bit of scandal, don’t you?”
Her laugh was low and husky; it sent fresh wave of lust through him. Y
es, freedom agreed with this woman. She fair glowed with independence. “I’m beginning to think I do.”
“Perhaps I should warn you that the gentlemen Caro has invited will be on their best behavior. Little plain speaking.” At the disappearance of her smile, he leaned closer, “The key is to get them to let down their guard.”
A scratch at the door interrupted their lesson. “Sir?” The butler. “Her Grace has asked that I inform you of dinner in two hours, should you like to prepare yourself.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Richard lifted Anne’s chin. “Until next lesson.”
He didn’t miss how her hands lingered on his shoulders.
Chapter 10
Anne enjoyed Richard’s company. He was witty and attentive, and their lessons became the best parts of her day.
He taught her how to speak during meals in a way that was both polite and intriguing, and that did not smother her personality. He taught her how to dance and let her natural charm shine through. He parried in conversation as deftly as a swordplay. Anne admired the way he could change topics so easily that she often forgot she was meant to be performing.
Though she paid him handsomely in information, his lessons were more than worth the price.
“What are you looking for in a husband?” he asked while on their walk. “Aside from a title.”
Ravenhill, the estate of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, covered miles of countryside and comprised of woodland, hills, rivers, and even a lake. Now that Richard knew Anne enjoyed daily walks, he took her out for lessons while exploring the many paths on the Ravenhill property.
Anne picked her way around a thorny rosebush. “The title would be negotiable if I could marry quickly without a special license. Unless you know of any decent unmarried MPs who are seeking a wife?” When he shook his head, she sighed. “I thought not. I want someone kind and respectful. That’s all.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “That’s all?”
What else was there? “All right, you tell me. What do you think I should have in a husband?”
His Scandalous Lessons Page 6