Love's Portrait

by Monica Burns

  The woman was occupying his thoughts far too much for his comfort. He simply needed to bed her and get his lust for her out of his system. In the same instant, he knew that wasn’t possible. If he forced her into his bed before he’d wooed her sufficiently, the result wouldn’t be to his liking.

  He needed to take his time with her. Julia was a complex creature, but he was certain of one thing. Fear kept her wrapped up in that mantle of repression she wore with such vigor. But she’d not been able to completely suppress her curiosity. It was there in her eyes, in the way she responded to his kisses. Even more intriguing was that she didn’t seem to fear society’s judgment. If that were true, she never would have dared to invest her money in St. Claire Shipping or any other business venture.

  Not to mention her active involvement with her investment. No, she wasn’t frightened by society’s opinion. If anything, she demonstrated her determination to flaunt the restrictive rules of present day mores. No, something else frightened her. The key to unlocking Julia so she became the woman in Peebles’ painting was finding out what really frightened her.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his younger clerks bow to a partner before sweeping her into his arms and out onto the floor. Again, his gaze swept over the crowd below him searching for some sign of Julia. Damn it, where was she? The muscle in his jaw tightened at the thought she might not have any intention of coming despite her words to the contrary. His fingers bit into his arms as he glared down at the dancers. Christ, one would think he’d lost his senses when it came to the woman.

  He caught another glimpse of his clerk spinning his partner around the dance floor and frowned. There was something familiar about the woman’s dark hair. The way the light caught the golden highlights in the dark red—damnation. With a grunt of exasperation, he wheeled on the back of his heel and strode along the loft’s landing to the stairs leading to the floor.

  She’d lost her mind. It was the only explanation. Why else would she dress like one of his employees and dance with Bentley? The woman obviously didn’t realize how easily her presence could stir up trouble with men who’d been drinking. Not to mention the potential for jealousy where the womenfolk were concerned. The music came to a halt as he reached the dance floor.

  Weaving his way through the crowd, he saw the clerk bow once more in front of Julia. Flushed from the exertion of the dance, she was radiant. Hell, she wasn’t just radiant—she looked exactly like Peebles had painted her. His groin immediately tightened. She was laughing at something the boy had said when he came to a halt in front of them.

  From the way Bentley blanched as their eyes met, Morgan knew his expression was forbidding. Christ Jesus, the boy didn’t deserve his anger. The only person deserving of his ire was himself. From the beginning, Julia had twisted him into knots, and his fascination hadn’t abated. If anything, it was growing in a way that made him feel possessive of her. Determined to put his clerk at ease, Morgan forced a smile to his lips. “I see you managed to persuade Mrs. Westgard to take to the floor, Bentley.”

  “Yes…yes, sir, Mr. St. Claire. I didn’t like seeing her standing on the sidelines. Wasn’t socially polite.”

  The firm resolve in Bentley’s voice made him widen his smile. The lad would go far in the company. It wasn’t often one of his employees had the gumption to politely tell Morgan to go hang himself.

  “I like a man who does the right thing, Bentley. Now off you go to get something to drink. I’ll see to Mrs. Westgard.” Jerking his head in the direction of the keg of ale, he sent the clerk on his way.

  As the young man disappeared from view, the band launched into a new song. Without asking her permission, he pulled Julia into his arms. Her gasp of surprise made her mouth form a soft moue, and he grinned as he whirled her about in several quick turns. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and he liked the way her fingers clung to his arms.

  He half expected her to protest angrily, but she didn’t. Instead, she tipped her head back and smiled. He inhaled a sharp breath. When she smiled like that, he was close to offering her the world. Somewhere an alarm went off in his head, but he crushed it into silence. Whirling her around in another small circle, he dipped his head toward her.

  “Perhaps you would care to explain your manner of dress for this evening.”

  “My dress?” She frowned in puzzlement before understanding cleared her furrowed brow. “Oh—you mean my borrowed clothing. I didn’t want the women comparing their own dresses to anything I wore. No one should ever be made to feel inadequate. It’s not a pleasant experience.”

  He was stunned. He couldn’t find any other word for it. No other woman of his acquaintance would have ever thought of doing such a thing. For some reason, her actions pleased him enormously. His arms tightened around her as he pressed his body into hers. She was warm and soft against him.

  “You say that as if someone has made you feel inadequate at one time or another.” He watched her eyes darken with a pain that made him want to comfort her.

  “My late husband made it a habit to point out my numerous faults.”

  “Numerous?” He chuckled. “I find it hard to believe he could have found that much to find fault with, Julia.”

  “Oscar took exception to a great many things,” she said with a quiet bitterness that surprised him.

  “Would he have taken exception to your attending tonight’s event?”

  “Most assuredly,” she said. There was a pronounced echo of satisfaction in her voice as she smiled tightly. “Oscar would have been appalled by my investing his money in St. Claire Shipping, and he would have…been horrified that I was here among the common folk.”

  Something about the way she stumbled over her words told Morgan she had been about to say something entirely different. Once again, she aroused a protective instinct in him. How her husband could have found anything to disapprove of in Julia puzzled him.

  She wasn’t just beautiful. Her actions showed a compassionate heart. Helping the poor was a cause many of the wealthy took up. But something told him the orphanage was more important to Julia than it was to others of her social status. Even her manner of dress this evening illustrated her consideration for the feelings of others.

  The fact that she’d dressed specifically to avoid making his employees uncomfortable didn’t just impress him. It made him like her. He’d never met any woman quite like her. As Morgan swung her around the dance floor, he smiled at the look of pleasure on Julia’s face.

  “You enjoy dancing.” His observation didn’t require her response, but her smile made his heart race like a steam engine pounding its way down a railroad track.

  “Very much, unless of course my feet are being trampled by a terrible partner,” she said with a laugh, the haunted look in her eyes gone.

  “And do you find me a bad partner.”

  “Not at all,” she said with a small laugh. “You’re an excellent dancer.”

  “So you like being in my arms then.” He flashed her a wicked grin, enjoying the blush that rose in her lovely face.

  “Somehow I think you mean something entirely different.”

  “You know exactly what I mean,” he said with soft deliberation.

  The thought of holding her naked in his arms made his muscles tighten. Their eyes met, and he saw the tip of her pink tongue flick out to wet her lips. His mouth went dry at the effect such a small action had on him.

  “You’re an extraordinary woman, Julia.”

  “You’ve been in the ale already.” She averted her gaze, her voice stiff and cool. “There’s nothing special about me at all.”

  “Ah, but you’re wrong. I’ve seen the woman beneath that shroud of repressed emotions you wear.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’re a bad liar, Julia. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I just want to know why you like hiding behind this cool façade.”

  “I’m not hiding from anything,” she snapped. “I am being circumspect.�
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  For a moment, he just stared down at her in amazement before he laughed out loud. With a shake of his head, he laughed again at her irate expression. “Do you call your portrait circumspect? And I’d hardly call the theft of my handkerchief a discreet adventure, would you?”

  “I told you why I took the handkerchief.”

  “Yes, but I’m not convinced you stole my handkerchief simply to raise funds for that orphanage of yours.”

  He pulled her closer and deftly whirled her out of the path of an overly exuberant couple on the dance floor. The swell of her breast pressed into his arm, and he realized he liked holding her in his arms. It felt right. Morgan wasn’t sure how he knew that. He simply knew he’d never felt this way before when holding a woman.

  “What other possible reason could I have for stealing your handkerchief?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps you enjoyed the excitement of doing something a respectable husband might disapprove of.” Her eyes widened with surprise, and she recovered quickly, but not before he knew he’d hit a nerve.

  “You’re mistaken. And if I hadn’t been caught red-handed by you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.” Her haughty tone challenged him.

  “If you truly believe that, then you’re the one who’s mistaken,” he said quietly. “And perhaps it’s time I showed you why.”

  “Good lord. Tonight?” Her cool demeanor gone, she met his gaze with an anxious look.

  Damn it, she looked as though she thought he would eat her. The thought of doing just that was a fleeting one, and he released a quiet breath of frustration. The woman was a conundrum. He should abandon the wager entirely, but something inside him refused to let her go. The woman tempted him in ways he’d yet to understand. It was an uncomfortable sensation for him. With the last note of the music, he swung her off the dance floor. Uncertainty paled her face, and with a quick move, she left his arms. He let her go. Hazel eyes wide in her oval face, she stared up at him with apprehension in her gaze, but a hint of excitement shimmered there too.

  In silence, he studied her for a long moment before making up his mind. Whatever fear kept her enshrined in that cloak of virtue he intended to strip it away. That tiny glimmer of anticipation in her gaze was all the invitation he needed. He might not bed her tonight, but he was damn well going to give her a taste of what to expect. Igniting her desire might even take the painful edge off his lust. Besides, the thought of hearing her plead for more was a pleasurable one.

  Music swelled around them again as he caught her by the arm and guided her toward the warehouse door. With little effort, he guided her out into the night with only one or two employees taking notice. Everyone else was too busy enjoying the party to concern themselves with the actions of their employer. The crisp spring air nipped at his skin as Julia suddenly regained her voice.

  “What do you think you’re doing, St. Claire.”

  “Taking you to a place where we’ll not be interrupted.” He tightened his grip on her as she almost managed to slip away from him.

  Crossing the street, he reached awkwardly into his vest pocket for his office key. The cool metal warmed in his hand as they stopped in front of his shipping offices. The door opened and he forced her through it.

  “We should return to the party. Everyone is going to notice that we’ve left.”

  “Let them.”

  Moonlight drifted through the glass windows of the main office, enough to light the way to the door that opened up into his personal domain. The door gave way with a loud crack, and his body absorbed the tense jerk she made at the sound. Inside the spacious room, he ushered her to the chair in front of his desk and forced her sit down.

  In quick succession, he locked the door, drew the window shade and turned up the gas light sconce on the wall. Turning around to face her, he narrowed his eyes. She had defied him by rising from her chair. She stood with her back to his desk and wore a prim and proper expression as she glared at him. Defiance in a woman was something he wasn’t use too. Another challenge. He would enjoy turning that look into one of desire.

  “I do not appreciate your high-handed behavior St. Claire. I have a distinct dislike for surprises.” She glared at him, Even though her lips were tight with anger, they invited him to kiss away her annoyance.

  “Unbutton your dress, Julia.”

  “What?” Aghast, she stared at him with her mouth half open.

  Folding his arms across his chest, he arched an eyebrow. “Shall I do it for you?”

  The fury in her gaze made him smile as she tossed her head angrily. Expelling a noise of disgusted fury, her fingers flew to the neck of her dress and she quickly undid the buttons down to the base of her throat. Defiance glittered in her eyes as she tilted her head and dared him to do his worst. She was radiant and fiery in her anger.

  God help him when she exploded with passion in his arms. His groin tightened at the image and he moved toward her. There was only a trace of trepidation in her face as she gamely stood her ground. When less than a foot separated them, he reached out and trailed his finger from the side of her neck to the base of her throat. She trembled at the touch. A surge of desire blasted through him swelling his cock. Feeling hot and needy, he looked deep into her eyes.

  “Your skin is soft as silk, my sweet.”

  “What game are you playing, St. Claire? This is not part of the wager. You said one night in your bed.” There was a breathless quality to her voice, and it shot an arrow of excitement through him.

  “The wager was that I wanted the woman in the portrait in my bed. And I’ll do whatever it takes to pull her out from under that prim and proper façade you wear.”

  “I’ve told you before—the woman you saw doesn’t exist. She’s a figment of Peebles imagination.”

  Not answering her, he began to slowly unbutton his shirt. Her eyes widened as she watched him with stunned fascination. She dampened her lips again, and the enticing sight made his cock jumped to attention with a sharp tug. His fingers found the last button and with a shrug of his shoulders, he removed his shirt then tossed it onto his desk.

  “I want you to touch me.”

  “Touch you?”

  “Yes. Touch me.”

  “I most certainly will not.” She tried to slip past him, but he blocked her escape. He blew out a harsh breath as he lifted her hand and rested it against his chest.

  The palm of her hand was hot against his skin, and his body tensed with desire. Christ, the woman only had to touch him and his cock was aching for release. Suppressing his need, he met her gaze as she stared up at him in bewilderment.

  “Why can’t you just take your winnings and leave me be?” The plea in her voice was unmistakable.

  “Stop talking and just touch me,” he growled as he struggled to keep from tugging her into his arms and kissing her into submission.

  ∫

  Hesitating, she could only stare at his chest. A fraction of a second later he caught her other hand and pressed it against his flesh. Fire heated her skin, and she shuddered. She wasn’t ready for this assault on her senses. Desire, mixed with fear, skimmed through her veins. The conflicting emotions made her tremble as he gently forced her hands to explore him.

  She remembered how he’d touched her yesterday. The intimacy of his caresses had set her on fire. More than that, his touch had broken down one of her barriers. It had created a longing inside her for something more. The same need was spiraling through her again. She swallowed hard, trying to fight the desire curling inside her belly.

  Beneath her fingertips, the hard line of his chest was hot, flexible steel. A tremor sailed through her, but she didn’t resist as he continued to make her trace the hard line of his muscular chest. Only in her innermost thoughts had she wondered what it would be like to touch him like this.

  A thin line of hair trailed its way from the middle of his chest downward until it disappeared into his trousers. Just touching him was a heady experience, but it was the unexpected sight
of his arousal that made her inhale a sharp breath of surprise. Her gaze jerked upward to meet the dark heat of his eyes.

  Beneath her fingers, his chest rose and fell with a steady, but quick, rhythm. Lowering her gaze, she stared at the sight of her hands splayed across his bare chest. She should be outraged by his actions tonight, but she wasn’t. The need that had been building inside her made her head swim with wicked thoughts and sinful images.

  Without thinking, she leaned into him and pressed her mouth against his bare skin. He tasted warm with a hint of woody spice. Above her head, she heard him suck in a sharp breath. In an abrupt move, he grabbed her at the waist and sat her up on his desk. Startled, she stared up at him.

  The dangerous glint in his blue eyes sent a shiver of delicious expectation across her skin. He leaned into her until his mouth was just a hair’s breadth from hers. The faintest trace of whiskey feathered its way past her nostrils. It blended with his scent to tantalize her senses as she realized how badly she wanted to lose her self-control with him.

  “That’s a start,” he whispered. “But I intend to make you hotter. So hot that you’re going to think you were on fire.”

  His mouth slanted over hers in a deep kiss. It assailed every one of her senses and heat spread through her limbs as his tongue swept into her mouth. In the pit of her belly, familiar sensations stirred. They hardened her nipples. Her breasts swelled and pushed against her corset with an exquisite pain.

  Beneath her hands, the hard muscles of his chest flexed as she caressed and explored him of her own accord. His body was like supple metal beneath her hands. Sweet heaven, but she wanted more. She wanted to feel his hands on her again. Touching her the way she was touching him. Touching her intimately.

  As if reading her mind, his hands lifted her gown and underskirt up to her waist. In the next beat of her heart, he tugged her drawers down to her ankles. The action effectively exposed her and imprisoned her in the same instant. Shocked by the decadent emotion spiraling through her, she squirmed against the desk and tried to push her dress down while reaching for her drawers. Morgan’s hand pushed hers aside as he looked up at her with a wicked smile. “Lay back, Julia.”