Love's Portrait

by Monica Burns

  Oscar had manipulated her like a puppet at his command. There had been no love or affection. And her worst offense had been her failure to offer him an heir. He’d blamed her for being cold and unresponsive in bed, punishing her by tying her hands to the bed while he rutted on top of her. She flinched at the memory.

  She’d fought against believing Oscar’s words. Fought desperately. But all the years of mental anguish had taken their toll. Now she was free, and she intended to remain that way. Never again would any man control her as Oscar had.

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment to gather her wits before turning back to face her visitor. He smiled at her as he met her gaze. It was a smile filled with charm and her heart slammed into her chest as the impact of his amused smile affected her senses.

  “Your servants are quite efficient,” he teased lightly. The sound ignited her senses with awareness. “One would think you’d been expecting company.”

  “I always have tea at this time of the day—visitors or not.” She sent him a cool look before moving to the sofa. Sitting on the edge of the loveseat, she leaned forward and lifted the dainty rose-covered teapot to pour him a cup of tea. As he sat down next to her, the warmth of him engulfed her. With a quick hitch of her breath, she offered him the cup.

  It pleased her that her hand remained steady as she handed him the tea, although inside she was shuddering with reaction to his nearness. It was difficult not to be affected by his overpowering presence and the devastating impact he had on her senses. The size of him was emphasized by the way his hand swallowed the teacup she’d offered him. What would it be like to have his hands cup her, tease her skin. Heavens, what was the matter with her?

  Jerking her gaze away from him, she quickly poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip of the scalding beverage. The heat of the tea burned her tongue and she grimaced. An appropriate punishment for her wicked thoughts. The sudden warmth of Morgan’s body sank into hers as he set his cup on the table then leaned into her side.

  His male scent flooded her senses as he pulled her cup from her numb fingers. Sweet heaven, why didn’t she even offer up a protest? Instead, she was simply allowing him to do as he pleased with her. A hard hand cupped the back of her neck, while his thumb pressed against the pulse beating rapidly on the side of her neck.

  “I can always tell when you’re nervous or excited. Your pulse flutters wildly, right here.” The pad of his thumb caressed the side of her neck in a sensual movement. It teased her skin, causing her heartbeat to increase its pace. “Ah, you see, it skipped again.”

  “You’re imaging things.”

  “I don’t think so, my sweet.” His endearment sent a wave of pleasure through her until she reminded herself that the man was well versed in the seduction of women.

  “You are far too full of yourself, St. Claire.”

  “You called me Morgan the other day.” She breathed in a trace of sandalwood and spice. It was a fragrant aroma. Heady almost. Her pulse lashed out a frantic beat through her body.

  “Did I? I don’t recall doing so.”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps you were too angry with me.”

  “Only with your stubbornness. I find it quite annoying. In fact, it’s the most irritating thing about you.”

  “So you admit I’m not a hopeless cause after all.” There it was again, that teasing note that sent her senses reeling.

  “Everyone has a saving grace, even a man such as you.”

  “Then tell me what my saving graces are, Julia.” His mouth caressed her earlobe as he whispered his command into her ear. A shudder rippled through her.

  “I cannot….cannot think of them at the moment.”

  “Not even one?” The warmth of his mouth grazed the point of her jaw line. It shot a volcanic rush of heat through her limbs, leaving behind a languid tranquility in her body.

  “No,” she breathed. Oh God, she wanted his kiss. She actually craved it. Insane. She had to be insane. It was the only explanation for why she was experiencing these traitorous emotions. The man was a libertine and she didn’t want to be labeled his woman.

  “You have a lovely mouth.”

  His soft words made her gasp. Inside her head, an alarm screamed shrilly for her to take care or she’d be a St. Claire woman in no time at all. No, that wouldn’t happen. She’d see to that, but would it hurt to indulge her senses just a little? No man had ever made her want to break all the rules the way this one did.

  How it happened, she wasn’t certain, but she was no longer sitting upright. Instead, she was reclining back into the couch with a warm body hovering over hers. Dark blue eyes glittered in his handsome face as a smile of satisfaction curled his lips. There was another emotion there as well. It was passion, rich and earthy in its honesty. It struck a chord in her. Excited her.

  Every part of her body tingled with sensation as her gaze remained locked with his. God, but he was mesmerizing. Wetting her dry lips, she trembled at the low growl that rumbled in his chest. He lowered his head and grazed her cheek with his mouth. It was a feathery caress, but it made her blood sing with fire.

  In the next moment, his mouth tasted hers. It was a light touch, but it stole her breath away. Oblivious to anything else but his kiss, she sighed softly then kissed him back. He immediately pressed his lean, hard body against hers, while her fingers splayed across his chest until she could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. A lethargic warmth oozed its way into every inch of her body, and she breathed in the delicious heat of his scent.

  Her fingers spiked through his hair, the softness of it caressing her skin like silk. He tasted heavenly. Hot and male on her tongue as it danced with his. She’d never realized how a woman’s breasts could grow so heavy with desire. The room’s cool air brushed across her leg before a warm hand caressed her calf.

  Starting with surprise, she murmured a protest. He raised his head, and stared down into her face. If she had been cold, his heated gaze would have been enough to warm her. His hand stroked her lightly as he studied her.

  “That beautiful mouth can deny it, but your body tells me you’re on fire.”

  The confidence in his voice barely registered as his hand slid up to stroke the skin above her garter. She swallowed hard. This was far more than just an indulgence of her senses. It was a veritable gate to irresistible decadence. She inhaled a sharp breath as his fingers trailed a path over her inner thigh.

  “Have you fantasized about me, Julia?”

  A fiery heat crested over her cheeks as her gaze darted away from his. While it was true she’d imagined him touching her like this, it had only been in her dreams. She’d not even dared to think of it during the waking hours.

  “No.”

  “Such a charming liar,” he said with a disbelieving laugh at her breathless reply. “Well I’ve had fantasies about you, sweetheart, and in them you’re always hot and wet for me.”

  The wicked words made her look up at him aghast. Speechless, she tried to stop the shiver of anticipation that skimmed across her skin the moment his hand brushed across the apex of her thighs. Her mouth went dry at the dark emotions flashing in his gaze as his finger parted her folds to trace a light circle over the nub hidden inside.

  “You’re hot and wet now.”

  The moment his thumb pressed and circled the sensitive area, she shuddered. Excruciating need shot from her belly into the nether regions of her body. God, she loved the way he was touching her. A heated rush twisted her insides and she uttered a small cry as his fingers dipped into her.

  “Oh God.” She squirmed beneath his heated strokes.

  “In your fantasies do I always make you this hot and creamy?” His voice was raw with desire as he teased her with one sensation after another.

  She moaned at the explosion of sensation spiraling through her body. Her hips shifted restlessly, writhing beneath his expert touch. Never in her life had she experienced anything like this. Heat engulfed her, and she clutched at his jacket as pleasure streaked through h
er.

  “Admit it, you like what I’m doing to you.” His mouth nibbled at her ear.

  “N…no. I…”

  “Admit it.” His fingers delved into her in a sinfully delicious thrust and her insides curled with tension.

  “Dear Lord, yes. Yes, I like it.” The words were a hoarse cry of need. In the deep recesses of her mind, she barely recognized the voice as her own. It was as though she was on fire from the inside out. He continued to tease her, his fingers working an incredible magic on her body.

  “Soon, very soon, my sweet, I’m going to fill you completely. I’m going to enjoy having this tight cunny of yours squeezing on my hot cock until you make me explode with pleasure.”

  There was a roughness to his voice indicated how aroused he was at the moment, while the erotic image he’d described filled her with a numbing heat. The words only served to make her hotter and she bucked against his hand. Her body craved more and she moaned low in her throat. His thumb swirled around her sensitive nub nestled in her slick folds.

  “Damn, you’re going to feel good wrapped around my cock. It’s going to be like hot, liquid velvet wrapping around me.” He rubbed harder at the spot between her legs until the caress tugged the last breath of air from her lungs. With a jerk, her body surged upward against his hand just before she exploded. Intense waves of sensation rolled over her and small shudders shook her body. Dazed she opened her eyes to look at him. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand cupped his cheek. She could see the desire in his eyes, and she knew he wanted her. And she wanted him. Desperately.

  But she couldn’t say the words. This was a wager to him. There could only be one night between them. Anything more and she realized she might very well be lost. But oh God, how she wanted that night now. This very instant.

  As if he could read her mind, he quirked an eyebrow upward and smiled. “No. I don’t think so. Not yet, even though the thought is quite tempting.”

  Appalled by her wanton behavior and the desire still curling in her stomach, she shoved her way out of his arms and rose to her feet. She was mortified to know he was toying with her. She didn’t want this man to control her, but already his touch was capable of holding her captive to wicked pleasure and delight. The thought frightened and angered her. With shaking hands, she straightened her clothing and tried to regain her composure.

  “I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. St. Claire.”

  “Why? Because I refuse to take you here and now?”

  She whirled away and stalked toward the window. Hands pressed against her belly, she tried to still the churning inside her.

  “I don’t understand you. I have said I will honor my debt, and yet you toy with me as a cat does a mouse. I care little for the sensation.”

  “And it’s sensation I want you to feel, Julia. I want the woman I saw in that portrait—lusty, bold and adventurous.” Joining her at the window, he turned her to face him. “I want you to come to my bed of your own free will.”

  “That portrait was not for anyone to see. It’s not real. That woman doesn’t exist.” Fists clenching the fabric of her green silk skirts, she grew stiff as a metal rod as he dipped his head toward her.

  “You’re wrong, Julia. That woman exists. A good artist always sees beneath the surface. You’re simply afraid.”

  “I am not,” she exclaimed with anger. But even as she spoke, she knew he was right. And she didn’t like having to admit Morgan St. Claire might be right about something where she was concerned. She watched his eyes narrow with a speculative gleam until determination filled his expression.

  One hand pressed against the base of her throat, she inhaled a ragged breath. God help her, she didn’t know how she was going to fulfill her wager without losing a part of herself to him. He studied her for a long moment before he shook his head with a gleam of frustration in his dark blue eyes.

  “Today was a step in the right direction. We’ll see about expanding your horizons tomorrow night at the St. Claire Fete.”

  His soft voice sent trepidation sliding down her back. No. She needed to throw herself on his mercy and have done with it. If he continued this seduction, she would be lost. Not looking at him, she laced her fingers together, trying not to tremble.

  “Wouldn’t tonight be a better opportunity?” The sooner this was done, the sooner she could regain her sanity.

  “No, I have an appointment this evening.”

  For a fleeting instant, she found herself wondering what woman would be in his bed tonight. It wouldn’t be her, and the knowledge nipped at her like an angry puppy. She turned away from him to watch the traffic in the street below. A strong arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her back into his chest. His mouth nibbled at her ear.

  “And no, my sweet, it’s not another woman.”

  Appalled that he’d been able to read her thoughts, she jerked away from him and put several feet between them. “I care little as to whom you entertain, St. Claire.”

  “So you say—but your face is quite expressive, Julia. Even more so when you climax beneath my touch.”

  With a wicked grin on his lips, he strode from the salon, leaving her to sputter with indignation as the door closed behind him. The man was insufferable and far too arrogant. Climax indeed. The thought made her cheeks burn with mortification. When a woman had sexual relations with her husband or lover, it was suppose to be about the man’s pleasure. Oscar had made that very clear.

  The memory chilled her. Pleasure had been the farthest thing from her husband’s mind when he’d come to her bed. He’d been a rutting boar, spilling his seed in her without one thought of her comfort or pleasure.

  Her husband had disgusted her. She’d been grateful when after nearly two years of marriage he’d stopped coming to her bed. Her inability to have a child had earned her nothing but his contempt, but she had gladly accepted it in place of his sexual attentions.

  A tremor wracked her body as she remembered how differently Morgan made her feel. She had experienced no disgust at his touch. In truth, it had been exciting. Exhilarating even. The thought made her heart skip. She did not want to let the man excite or exhilarate her. She simply wanted to fulfill her debt and be done with him.

  Of course, what she wanted and what Morgan St. Claire wanted were two different things. The man wouldn’t disappear from her life until it suited him. And that was what worried her.

  Chapter 5

  Standing in the loft overlooking the warehouse floor, Morgan watched the spirited party below. The building had been emptied for the annual St. Claire Fete, and at one end of the large storage facility, the band he’d hired was playing an Irish jig. On the makeshift dance floor, his employees and their guests danced with an exuberance that pleased him. There was an unrestrained freedom in the boisterous antics of the dancers as they cavorted to the music.

  Like the partygoers, he wore no jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his elbows. He wanted his employees to feel comfortable. Dressing in the same manner they did removed the barrier of wealth that usually existed between them. His father was no doubt rolling in his grave. The man had always worked his employees hard, never realizing that people tended to work harder when they were treated well.

  When his father had died, Morgan had made changes almost overnight. His actions had propelled St. Claire Shipping forward until it was even more successful now than it had been in his father’s time. A grim smile of satisfaction tilted one corner of his mouth. It would have irritated his father immensely to know that his son had proven to be a better business man.

  His shoe tapped lightly against the planks of the loft floor as his gaze scanned the activities below. Across the dance floor from the band, temporary tables made out of sawhorses and planks lined the wall. Covered with colorful blue-checked tablecloths, the tables sagged with a bountiful assortment of meats, vegetables, breads and the Clarendon’s famous cranberry scones.

  It was a sight never seen in his father’s time, but
then his father had never been one to coddle the workers. His father had thought solely of his own amusement. Morgan clenched his jaw as he remembered the lack of interest his father had shown in him until he came of age. Then the man had wanted him to take on the family business. Originally, Morgan had thought to refuse, but short of funds, he’d had little choice.

  When his father had died only a few months after Morgan joined the company, he’d had the opportunity to rid himself of St. Claire Shipping. Something inside him compelled him not to sell, and the decision to keep the business had made him a wealthy man. For all intents and purposes, he was content with his life, but occasionally he felt as though something were missing. He frowned.

  What could possibly be missing? The word home whispered its way through his head. He immediately scoffed at the notion. The idea that he needed a place to call home was laughable. The Clarendon was all that he needed in the way of a home. A miserable childhood with an indifferent father and a mother who found the sight of him unbearable was enough to convince even the hardiest of souls not to wish for a place to call home. His jaw tightened at the unpleasant memories.

  On the floor below, he saw an older couple enjoying the party from the sidelines. The man had an arm around his wife as he spoke into her ear. It amazed him how many of his employees were happily married despite their harsh lives. On occasion, he’d visited their homes to check on sick employees. Despite their woes, there was a warmth in their homes that he’d long for until he’d remind himself of his childhood.

  As a boy, he’d believed a home of his own would be someplace he could escape to, but when he was old enough, he realized it wasn’t possible. A house symbolized marriage and all the discord that went with it. And marriage was an institution to be avoided at any cost. Shrugging off the morose images, he folded his arms across his chest and studied the party goers.

  From this height, he could easily see the comings and goings of everyone in the building. Several of his investors stood around the large keg of ale he’d brought in for the occasion. His most important investor had yet to arrive, and he shrugged his shoulders in an impatient gesture. He didn’t like the fact that he was so eager to see Julia.