by Julia Keaton
“I suppose I must be.”
“Good. You are learning. This will go much smoother with your cooperation. I want you remove your clothes,” Logan said, his eyes glittering with some indefinable emotion. “I’d like to see how accurate the artist was in capturing your beauty.”
Winter heard only the sound of his voice, soft and calm on the surface, but cold fire beneath. His eyes locked with hers in an unwavering stare that shook her to the bone. There was no doubt in her mind that she had to do exactly as he said and only a split second to decide whether to fight him or not.
Winter’s heart seemed to skip a beat. When it started back, it was at a gallop, nearly choking the life out of her and fluttering as some caged bird. She felt light-headed, dizzy as she stood, her decision made more difficult by his continued watchfulness.
“I…I’m not sure how to go about this.”
A smile turned up the corner of his mouth, but it did not meet his eyes. “Surely you have undressed before, Miss Stevens?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Never before a man.”
“As well you should not. You are a maiden and unmarried. I would be quite surprised if you had done so before now,” he said, watching her steadily.
Slowly, she pulled the fingertips of her lace gloves up and withdrew one glove and then another. She set the gloves down on the chair she had occupied, then removed her shoes and unrolled her silk stockings. Next she unbuttoned her pelisse. The pelisse was easily removed and joined the gloves on the chair.
Her burgundy afternoon dress was a little more difficult to remove, but she’d lost weight since it’d first been made for her, and she was in the habit of dressing herself these days, so it was not with any hardship that the thick, gold trimmed dress came off.
Logan said nothing as she removed her dress, merely sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair. Once her dress was laid across the high back of the chair, she stood before him in her petticoats. She drew the first petticoat over her head and then the second. By the time she stood before him in her corset and chemise, her hands had begun shaking and she had difficulty commanding her fingers to work.
She’d thought at some point, he would have mercy on her and tell her to stop, but it seemed he intended on taking this to the furthest point that he could.
The buttons of her corset made a slight popping sound as she pulled them free of their buttonholes.
Her nerves jangled, her fingers unsteady as she worked the tight buttons loose and finally had her under-support removed. The moment the corset came free, she felt her breasts settle heavily in the fine cotton of her chemise. Her nipples puckered as they always did when the tight nuisance was removed.
She stopped, trying to gather her courage.
“You can turn your back, if that makes it any easier. Or do you require my assistance?”
The last thing she wanted was to give him an excuse to come and help her undress. The very scandalous idea of him being so close to her while she was naked set her blood to racing.
She shook her head, gathering her fleeting courage. “I’ve been dressing and undressing myself for quite some time now,” she said on a tight, shaky breath.
No, she thought it would be better for him to remain seated and behind his desk, as far from her as possible whilst she was in such a vulnerable state. But she would take him up on his offer to turn her back to him.
She loosened her hair and allowed it to fall down her back, hoping the tendrils would provide some measure of shielding to her naked flesh when it was finally revealed. Grasping the hem of her chemise, she hauled it up her body and over her head, dropping it in the seat of the chair and quickly covering her breasts and sex with her hands before anything could show.
She kept her eyes closed in mortification, but she heard the sharp intake of his breath when she stood before him, at last completely naked.
Just because her back was to him did not mean he couldn’t see her assets or that she would brazenly show herself off to him.
Her skin tingled in the air despite the warmth of the fire in the hearth.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice strangely husky.
Winter squeezed her eyes shut and slowly rotated. A shiver of cold wracked her body. She shuddered, practically feeling his eyes roaming over her.
His chair scraped on the hardwood.
“Move your hands. I want to see all of you.” His deep voice sounded close. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes and look at him like this.
Winter thought her heart would explode from nervousness and fright. Reluctantly, she removed the shield of her arms and hands, allowing her limbs to drop by her sides.
“I thought you were going to make me remove them myself,” he said. His voice by her ear startled her. She jumped and her eyes flew open to see him standing in front of her.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. Winter stared straight ahead as if she were awaiting death by a firing squad.
“The artist’s imagination was quite…vivid, but I can see the limitations of using only the mind to capture an image. You are more breathtaking in the flesh, Miss Stevens,” he murmured, walking around her and examining every inch of her body.
He raised a hand as if to touch her, but merely skated the air inches from her skin, as if imaging what it would feel like to rest his hand on her bare waist, the small of her back, and her buttocks. As he came around to stand in front of her again, Winter couldn’t help the jolt of pleasure that rocked through her core at the heat in his eyes.
God forbid she enjoy him looking at her, but she did. If ever she was in doubt of her reckless, wanton nature, she could no longer deny it. Curse him for awakening forbidden desires in her, for forcing her to his will and confusing the state of her mind.
For a brief moment, Logan couldn’t seem to catch his breath as he stared at her lush body finally revealed to him by her own hand. She was everything he’d ever imagined, and the urge to crush her against his body was so great, he nearly swept the contents off his desk with one hand so that he could lay her down upon it and take her as he’d always wanted.
Excruciating desire tightened his groin, making his balls and cock ache as never before. Blood thudded dully through him, making him feel sluggish and hot.
He’d meant to break down her resistance, but all he felt like he’d accomplished was prolonging his own torture.
From the top of her white golden hair, the graceful arch of her neck, to her full supple breasts tipped with tiny pale rose nipples, he could not stop staring. He ate her body with his eyes, imaging her twisted around him, writing in ecstasy, calling out his name and begging for him to fuck her. The hollow of her flat stomach begged for the trace of his tongue down to the thatch of pale blond hair that marked the triangle of her sex.
Indeed, the artist had not captured her. Not in the slightest. And he was glad of that. He’d kill any other man for daring to look at her like this.
Logan’s body leapt to life as desire, hot and unbidden flooded him. Blood rushed to his groin, making his cock harden unbearably. He reveled in the sensation, the longing to take and taste, devour and conquer. How would it feel to sink into her uncharted depths, to feel her tight wet heat envelop him?
He stopped his circle in front of her, staring at her downturned lids. She had her head ducked in shame.
He knew he shouldn’t touch her. Knew that to give in to the impulse would only enflame him further.
He couldn’t help himself.
Logan reached to take her into his arms. The moment he felt her warm, soft skin, he was lost to sanity.
Winter whimpered as his hands met the bare flesh of her back, pulling her closer while he lowered his mouth to nuzzle the silky flesh of her neck.
“No,” she said, remaining stiff against him, resisting the draw of his lips on the shell of her ear. Goosebumps dimpled her skin in reaction to his touch.
She tasted even better than he’d thought.
“Put your arms aro
und me, Winter,” he commanded in a voice hoarse with desire.
She obeyed him quietly, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as her trembling arms encircled his neck and he could feel the heat of her flesh close around him.
He caressed the firm flesh of her buttocks, cupping each to press her tightly against him. He groaned to feel the weight of her buttocks, the soft, untouched skin. She shuddered in his arms, an admission of weakness, and it nearly drove him insane to possess her.
“Kiss me,” he demanded roughly.
Winter thought she would faint from the feeling of his hands on her bare skin. She felt hot and light-headed. She couldn’t catch her breath, and the feel of his cock digging into her lower belly made her tremble so hard she thought she’d shake into a million pieces.
Hesitantly, she pressed her lips quickly to his, keeping her mouth closed and tight.
His dark eyes burned into hers with an intensity that made her shudder. “Again. Like you mean it,” he ordered savagely.
“I don’t know how,” she whispered.
“Like this,” he growled as his lips covered hers.
Warm and demanding, he forced his tongue past the barrier of her lips into her mouth. His tongue sought her own, setting off explosions of warm pleasurable sensation that she struggled to fight off before she could lose her mind any more than she already hand. He smelled cleanly masculine, tasted of warm brandy.
Maybe it was the raw touch of his hands in a place she’d never been touched—she didn’t know. But feeling his hands cup her buttocks and the hard dig of his cock into her woman’s place set off a flash fire within her blood that was nearly impossible to ignore.
Weakness pervaded her limbs, melting her against his body as if he had every right to hold her thus. She moaned into his mouth, feeling her excitement build at the forbidden.
He tore his mouth away from hers as suddenly as he’d begun. His breathing ragged, he released her from his arms, moving back around the desk as if to put distance between them.
Winter was left panting and shaking. She covered her breasts with her arms and her nether region from his probing gaze.
Shame filled her every pore. If she’d been a weaker woman, she might have cried. As it was, she felt the sting in her eyes and blinked them hard, willing herself to remain calm and cool. It didn’t matter that he rejected her. What mattered was that he’d stopped before she could do something foolish.
Winter found her voice at last. “Are you satisfied? Might I get dressed once more?” she said through gritted teeth, feigning an outrage that she didn’t quite feel.
He walked to the door of his study, keeping his back to her. “For now. You may get dressed. I expect you to wear less petticoats tomorrow. It took you far too long to undress for me this day. Go now, before I can change my mind.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Winter did not know what to expect the next day. When she was shown to Logan’s private quarters, she was stunned to see a steaming bath awaiting her.
What was he about? She wondered, nervously pacing the room as she awaited him in his private chamber.
She startled when the door opened suddenly, but did not feel at ease to see it was Logan himself entering the room.
Logan walked in without his jacket or waistcoat, wearing his shirt with the neck half opened down his chest and his cravat untied on either side of his neck. Black, springy hair peeped from the neck of his white silk shirt, drawing her gaze like a beacon signaling safety for the coast.
Except there was nothing safe about Lord Remington. Everything about him was dangerous, and she would do well to remember that.
Inky black locks of hair hung around his face, reminding her forcibly of some roguish pirate bent on pillaging. Perhaps it was his swarthy complexion, undaunted by years of higher civilized life. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes that made her think that way, that he was undressing her with his eyes and imagining carnal pursuits.
Whatever the case, he made her supremely uncomfortable and he knew it and exploited his effect on her.
She had a difficult time remaining aloof to him when he seemed only interested in chipping away her cool reserves. She could feel the protective wall she surrounded her heart with crumbling under his sensual demands.
How long could she remain virtuous and good under his onslaught?
“Why have you summoned me to your personal chamber?” Winter asked, keeping distance between them with her hands rested on the back of a chair, as if that woodwork would somehow protect her should he decide to press his advantage.
It was merely an illusion of safety, but one she preferred to maintain regardless.
He closed the door behind him, propping his back on the solid wood and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I thought it was obvious, given the bath. I want you to remove your clothing and get into the tub. I would not have requested you to dress more sparingly had I had something else in mind.”
Her belly clenched on a hard spasm. She swallowed hard, feeling her heart flutter in her chest yet again. “Why?”
He smiled devilishly, increasing her tension. “I find myself wanting to bathe you and wash your hair.”
Her throat seemed to close up on itself. She swallowed again, trying to work her mouth. “Nothing more nefarious?” she asked, willing moisture to return to her dry mouth.
“Miss Stevens, if I simply wanted to bed you, I would have done so already. I’m enjoying the chase far too much to allow it to just end like that.”
She did not believe one word from his deceptive tongue. All men lied to get what they wanted, and he was no different.
As much as she wanted to argue, she knew if she was ever going to fulfill this bargain, she had to comply with his wishes, no matter how bizarre or uncomfortable she might find them. He’d already seen everything she had to offer, what was the difference of a bath?
She longed to figure out why he prolonged her torture, but his games and motives he kept to himself. She was merely a pawn on a chessboard.
In addition to that was the fact that in her own household, she was not given the luxury of bathing whenever she wanted, as she had before her father died. The steam of the water beckoned her, smelling of sweet scented oils and perfumes.
Sighing and relinquishing her defeat this time, she turned her back on him and removed her clothing as she had before, neatly folding and setting her clothes on a chair and walking to the bath. Logan, she ignored, willing herself to move with a confidence she did not feel.
He might affect her, but he did not have to know that he did.
Stepping into the tub, she settled inside, letting the hot water cover her skin up to her shoulders. It was almost too hot for her to stand, but she relished the slight stinging of her skin in reaction to the heat. The warmth caressed her skin, relaxing the ever present tension in her limbs. Lavender filled her nostrils, soothing her nerves.
Much as she wanted to hate him, she greatly appreciated the bath, but would never tell him so. If he meant to seduce her with luxuries such as this, he might stand a chance.
It wouldn’t do to allow him the knowledge of his success, however.
She dipped her head under the water, soaking her head and hair before coming back up and resting her head against a linen draped over the back of the porcelain tub.
Her eyes were shut, so she relied upon her sense of hearing to follow his movements around the room. Two heavy thuds reached her ears and the rustle of cloth.
Water splashed suddenly and she felt two feet brush by her legs.