“Do you fear that I’ll judge you?”
“No.” I fear you’ll change your mind. “I’m just more comfortable behind the mask.”
She counted the heartbeats, waiting for him to react, to say something, anything.
“Then keep it on,” he said quietly, and his hand loosened from around her wrists as he stepped back.
She lowered her arms. “Are you angry?”
“Disappointed. But we all have our secrets; we all have the right to keep them.”
“I can’t imagine that you have any.”
His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Then you are sadly lacking in imagination.” He walked over to the table. “Scotch or brandy?”
“Brandy.”
“You didn’t strike me as a shy miss,” he said as he poured the amber liquid into two snifters.
“What we’re doing here … I fear feeling exposed, when all is said and done. I’m not quite comfortable with it, but I don’t know that I can live with myself if I prove to be an absolute coward.”
Returning to her, he handed her a snifter. Taking a sip, she relished the warmth swirling through her but the result wasn’t nearly as heated or pleasant as his kiss.
“So tonight, you’re only here to be photographed?” he asked.
“That’s my present course. I simply don’t know that I’m prepared to go further, which I realize brings into question my wisdom in coming here the first night, but desperation sometimes has us being unwise. I know it’s frustrating—”
“I shall have my photograph.” He tucked his finger beneath her chin, tilted her head up slightly, and kissed her, not with the fire he had earlier, but with banked embers. Drawing back, he held her gaze and gave her a devilish grin. “And maybe I’ll have just a little bit more.”
When he looked at her like that, he was impossible to resist. It was silly to deny the attraction, to put him off when she’d come here that first night fully expecting to lie with a man.
He gave a sharp nod toward the area behind her. “Now get on the bed.”
And her stomach dropped to the floor.
Chapter 9
SHE had known, of course, that this was where she would end up, but now that the moment was upon her, it was a little unsettling. The bed suddenly loomed massive and a great distance away.
“Where do you want me exactly?” she asked, nearly forgetting to alter the timbre of her voice until it reflected the throatiness she required. She didn’t like not being in control, yet she suspected tonight she would be merely a puppet, his puppet. The notion should have filled her with anger or dread. Should have had her informing him that she wasn’t a pawn, but could leave anytime she wanted. He wouldn’t force or bully her. She was relatively certain of that. He was simply a man who knew what he wanted. She found that aspect of him quite attractive.
He wrapped both his hands around hers that was holding the snifter. She wondered when her fingers had gone icy, was amazed by how quickly they warmed with his touch. She would like to have him wrapped around her in winter, when the snow fell.
“For now, simply sit on the foot of the bed.” He relieved her of the brandy, turned to set the glass elsewhere, giving her a moment of privacy.
She crossed the short distance to the canopied bedstead and climbed onto the edge of the mattress. Once situated, with her legs dangling over the edge, she looked up, and her breath backed up into her lungs. With his eyes focused on her, Ashebury stood near the fireplace slowly unraveling his neckcloth, his jacket draped over the back of the sofa. He eased the length of linen away from his throat, set it aside, and went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat.
“I do my best work if I’m comfortable,” he said, as though he read her discomfiture in the shifting of her body, as though she required an explanation. Not wanting to appear flustered, she refrained from asking how comfortable he intended to get. For goodness sakes, she’d walked unattended through rookeries and slums to assist the poor. She wasn’t some mewling miss.
She was, however, growing increasingly warm as he shrugged off the waistcoat, then loosened a few buttons on his shirt until a small V formed to reveal a hint of his chest. His cuffs were next. He began rolling up his sleeves as he prowled toward her, his gaze never once straying from her. She had a wild notion that he intended to pounce on her, to flatten her onto the bed and devour her with his heated kisses, raining them over every inch of her.
He stopped only when his thighs rested lightly against her knees. “I’m going to remove the pins from your hair.”
“It’ll tumble down.”
A corner of his mouth hitched up in that sensual smile he had that nearly stopped her heart from beating. “That’s the desired effect. I’ll use it to conceal the mask.”
“I can remove the pins.” She lifted her hands and his closed around them, preventing them from reaching their destination.
“I’ll do it.” His tone held no room for compromise.
But the thought of his performing such an intimate service … what the devil was wrong with her? She’d originally come here expecting a man to engage in something far more intimate. It was ridiculous to be squeamish now.
“Yes, all right.” She needed the words to at least pretend she had some say in the matter.
When he released her hands, she forced them to fall into her lap when she would have much preferred pressing them to his chest. While he was busy searching for her pins, his fingers barely skimming over her hair, she lowered her gaze to the V of skin that traveled from his throat downward. She didn’t know a single man as bronzed as he was. He no doubt didn’t wear so much as a shirt to shield him from the sun when he was traipsing through Africa or the Far East or anywhere else he dared to roam. She was half-tempted to press a kiss to that flesh, to feel its heat and silkiness against her lips, but before she could be so bold, she was aware of the pinging as her pins hit the floor.
She grabbed his wrist and his gaze slammed into hers. “Give them to me instead of tossing them aside; otherwise, we’ll have to search for them so I can put up my hair when we’re done.”
“We’ll find a ribbon to hold it back. I assume you’re not heading to a party after you leave here.”
“In the wee hours? Something reputable? Hardly likely.”
“Then I don’t see the problem. Except for the mask. Its ties are in the way.”
“I’m not removing it.”
“Then hold it in place.”
She put her hands over it, splaying her fingers so she didn’t lose sight of him. Gently, he tugged on the bow. The ties fell forward, the mask slipped ever so slightly. Without his warning, she’d have been revealed. It kindled something sharp and sweet inside her. He wasn’t going to take what she was not yet ready to give. He went back to work on her pins. Clink. Clink. Clink. She felt the shifting of her coiffure, then the weight of her hair tumbling down over her shoulders.
“Glorious,” he murmured right before there was a tug on the mask’s ribbons, and he was securing them.
Lowering her hands, she looked at him through the tiny holes upon which her eyelashes kept catching. Maybe she should get rid of the blasted thing, but his eyes held such appreciation that for a moment she could find no words, take no actions. With two fingers, he was rubbing several strands together as though he’d never before touched a woman’s hair.
“You could have discovered who I was,” she said quietly.
His attention shifted from her hair to her eyes. “You want the anonymity. I can honor that request. God knows there were times in my life when I longed for it.”
“When?”
“When I was younger. I wasn’t always the brightest of pupils. When I couldn’t arrive at the answer, I often wished no one knew who I was. I’ll wager you were an exceptional student.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You have intelligent, expressive eyes. You’re always watching, observing, striving to calculate where we’re going before we get there.”
“I’m a keen observer, Lady V. It’s why I’m so skilled at what I do.” The smoldering look in his eyes implied he was referring to a great deal beyond the photography. It included kisses, touches, and far more intimate encounters. “Before we’re done here, I hope you have the opportunity to experience all my skills.”
“You’re not frightfully arrogant, are you? Both times I came here, you were a solitary figure against the wall. No ladies hovering about.”
“Because most know I make the selection. And I only select each lady once.”
“Yet you selected me twice.”
“It seems where you’re concerned, I’m making a good many exceptions. On the other hand, we’ve yet to complete my purpose or yours in being here. So perhaps it’s simply an extension of our first encounter. Now lie back.”
It was silly to want to talk with him more, to want to get to know him better. But Grace, blast her, was correct. How could she be intimate with a man who was more stranger than friend? While she had come here only to pose for him, now she was considering him posing for her, while she took liberties—
“A change of heart, Lady V?” he asked.
“No, I … a spurt of nerves, but they’re gone now.” She rolled down onto her back, looked up—
Jerked upright. “Oh, dear God, there’s a mirror there!”
He laughed, a deep, rich, rumble that made her smile, made her glad she had the power to elicit that response even if it was at her expense.
“I suppose I should have warned you about that,” he said.
“Why is it there?”
“Some people like to watch themselves while they’re … copulating.”
“Oh.” She had planned originally to be bedded with her eyes closed tightly, but if she did that, she would miss the beauty of his form. Still, she didn’t want to watch the actual coupling. She considered what she knew of the act. “Ladies, you mean. Ladies like to watch.”
“Men as well.”
“It seems that it might be rather difficult since you’re on top.”
“I’m not always on top.”
“Are you not?”
“No. Sometimes I’m on bottom. On my side. I’ve been known to stand.” He wrapped a large powerful hand around the bedpost. “Sometimes I kneel. There are all sorts of positions.”
“Do you know them all?”
“I doubt that. But I know a good many. I can share them with you when you’re ready.”
She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for all that, but she was intrigued by the possibilities. She had envisioned them coming together only once but, as she was beginning to realize she might never have enough of his kisses, perhaps there were other facets to him of which she’d never have enough.
Suddenly, barely aware of him moving, she found herself cradled in his arms. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to place you where I want you, before you lose your nerve. My subjects don’t usually talk so much. It’s better to just get on with it. I’m going to touch you, but you can stop me if you become uncomfortable with my attentions.”
As he walked around the corner of the bed, she felt delicate when she never had before in her life. Having inherited her father’s features, she’d always felt unfeminine, almost boyish. It hadn’t helped that she’d loved climbing trees and following after her brothers.
He set her down gently in the middle of the mattress as though she were fragile glass. With his hands coming to rest on her shoulder and hip, he rolled her slightly. “On your stomach but not all the way. Extend your left arm up. You can rest your head on it. Your right hand here, near your ribs to provide some support.”
She did as he bade. Then, as he’d promised, he began arranging her hair over her face, over the mask that she was coming to detest. What if she removed it? What if he realized who she was? Would he still be willing to bed her, or would he be put off by the notion of being with a woman no man had ever loved? Quite unexpectedly, she desperately wanted him to be the one who deflowered her. On his feet, on his knees, on his side, below her, above her. She wanted to be his first virgin. Wanted him to be her first lover. Even if only for one night, she wanted him.
Through the curtain of her hair, she watched him move back to the foot of the bed. He folded his hands around her feet, and although it made absolutely no sense, they felt delicate as well. “Left leg straight, right leg bent slightly at the knee.”
Holding her ankles, he guided her leg. “There. Perfect.”
A word that had never been associated with her before. She rather liked it.
“I’m going to move the silk up now because I want the emphasis to be on your legs. Most of the rest of you will be in shadow. I’ll stop if you tell me you’re uncomfortable. But I hope you’re daring enough to let me reach my destination. It’ll be pleasing for us both.”
That was a challenge if she ever heard one.
He moved the silk up with his wrists, his hands remaining curled around her legs as he glided them smoothly up over her calves, her knees—
A quick release to tug up the material caught beneath her legs. Then a continuation of the journey up her thighs, slowly, slowly, giving her time to protest. Only she wasn’t going to. She was her father’s daughter, a man branded as a thief in his youth who had taught her never to back down.
Ashebury’s hands came to rest just below the curve of her buttocks. “Good girl,” he murmured, with appreciation laced in his voice. “Brave girl.”
The joy that spiraled through her at pleasing him was rather confounding. Making him happy made her happy.
He adjusted the cloth, angling it higher on one side. “Are you aware that you have a tiny heart-shaped birthmark on your hip?” He placed a reverent kiss there that branded her flesh, scored her soul.
“Don’t move a muscle,” he ordered. Then he was gone, and she nearly wept at his leaving.
ASHE was as hard as granite. His body didn’t usually react when he was positioning a woman for the camera because he was so focused on the task, all his attention devoted to discerning how best to pose his subject to bring out the beauty of the human form. But with her it was different. Everything with her was different. He hadn’t wanted to stop at her hip. When he’d revealed the tiny birthmark, he’d wanted to continue exploring her, to uncover all the hidden secrets of her body.
Barely able to walk, he took his position behind the camera, peered through the lens. Exquisite, perfection. That, too, was unusual. Normally, he had to reposition a woman a little here or a little there. But he’d had two days to fantasize about her, to consider every facet of what he would do with those legs if he ever again had a chance to photograph them. All he needed now was to adjust the lighting.
Arranging chairs and small tables, he moved lamps to the foreground, increased their illumination, smiled as he became master of the shadows. They went where he willed.
So many times he’d almost tested his theory regarding her identity, almost called her Miss Dodger. But he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, didn’t want to lose this opportunity. Didn’t want to lose her.
He was going to bed her. Maybe not tonight, but very soon. He didn’t know when he’d become so certain of it, but he wasn’t going to let any other man have her. Not here, not anywhere, not for her first time. With her boldness, her willingness to go unflinchingly after what she wanted, she deserved better than a man who merely wanted to sate his lust. Although Ashe had to acknowledge that desire such as he’d never experienced was a motivating factor for him. He wanted what he had no right to possess.
She was a contradiction. A woman bold enough to come here for a bedding but reserved enough that she insisted on the secrecy, that even her lover not know who she was. Because she didn’t trust him not to hurt her? Had someone hurt her? Other than the dimwit who had hoped his children didn’t favor her? If she revealed his name, he might take measures to ensure the man never had chi
ldren. He wasn’t prone to violence, except when survival was at stake, but she had him acting not quite like himself.
Yet she trusted him enough to be with him, to let him place his hands on her, to not harm her. Another reason existed for her reticence to remove the mask. It was a mystery he would like to solve. Slowly, over time, with relished moments and passionate kisses. She was fire beneath the reserve. He had the power to unleash it.
He could stand here all night just looking at her lying there. He wished he could capture all her true shades. The paleness of her skin, the rich auburn of her hair. The way the shadows caressed her as he longed to. The way the light revealed her as she deserved to be seen.
But only by him. He wanted no one else to see her as he had been given the chance to view her. He would never share with another soul the fine lines of her legs, the curve of her backside, the slope of her hip, the birthmark. No one else would ever know her as he did at this moment.
He stepped away from the camera. “You can relax. It’s done.”
She came up on an elbow, and he couldn’t help thinking that there was the opportunity for another remarkable photograph—if only she’d remove the mask. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“It’s the latest model. Quiet as a whisper,” he lied. She wouldn’t understand his motives for not taking the photo. He wasn’t quite certain he understood them himself.
She began shoving herself up farther.
“Hold,” he commanded.
She froze, and even the loathsome mask of silk and feathers couldn’t hide the surprise in her eyes.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he said.
MINERVA fought for calm as one of his knees landed between her calves. Then the other. His hands came to rest on either side of her body, supporting him, his length barely touching her as he prowled toward her until his face was directly over hers. That was all she could see. His shadowed jaw, the intensity of his gaze, the hard line of his lips, parted ever so slightly. She couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror above, couldn’t see the looking glass at all. Her vision had narrowed down to only him.
Falling Into Bed with a Duke (Hellions of Havisham) Page 12