by Jo Beverley
Charlotte knew then exactly the type of gentleman Gavin Ellsworth was. She had met enough men like him over the years. He was typically spoiled and lazy and very used to getting his way in everything. Especially with the ladies. Oh, most especially with the ladies. He knew precisely how his charming smile and striking blond good looks left a woman weak-kneed and eager to please his every whim for the chance to see that smile again and with the hope that she would be the one to win his favor. To her great humiliation, Charlotte was fast turning into one of those foolish, fawning girls. Even worse, she could not help herself. Could not stop herself. Where were all her witty comebacks and sardonic remarks that she had readily given other gentlemen of such ilk and for which she was so well known? She was skilled at putting men in their place. And yet now, nothing. She could do nothing.
She realized from the moment she spied his bronzed and bare chest that she was defenseless. She had no resources strong enough to stop his charm.
Now she was his angel? She should laugh in his face. She should deliver a quick retort to set him back and show him that she had not the least bit of interest in a man like him. Instead Charlotte grinned, ridiculously pleased by his compliment.
“I don’t believe anyone has ever called me angelic before,” she said, wishing she could kick herself.
“Well tonight you are an angel to me.” His engaging smile lit a fire within her.
“I see,” she murmured.
“Am I anything to you?” He eyed her with blatant speculation.
Her heart flipped over in her chest. Oh, she wanted him to be something to her! Wanted to be able to call him by some sweet endearment. “I should think not. I do not even know you.”
“Yet.”
Her pulse quickened. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t know me well enough yet. But you will, Miss Wilton, you will. I believe we shall be spending a great deal of time together.”
She stared at him. His deep hazel eyes fixed on hers and she could not look away. Indeed, she could barely draw a breath.
“May I call you Charlotte? Miss Wilton seems overly formal given the current surroundings in which we find ourselves.” He nodded in the direction of the house.
Through the archway, Charlotte could see various guests coupled together intimately, some seated on velvet sofas and some resting on cushions upon the floor. The bearded gentleman now had his arm around Aunt Louisa’s shoulders and the two were laughing together. Another passionate pair was locked in an amorous embrace. In plain view of everyone! The atmosphere in the house was decidedly outside the bounds of propriety.
A heated blush suffused her cheeks. She averted her eyes and asked, “And I am to call you Gavin then?”
“Of course.” He gave her another smile. “Unless you’d rather call me darling.”
Nervous laughter bubbled up from within her chest at the boldness of his suggestion. It was as if he had read her thoughts! “I don’t think I shall be calling you that.”
He raised and lowered his brows in a devilish manner. “Yet.”
“My, my,” she shook her head. “Aren’t we rather presumptuous, sir?”
He cast her a meaningful look. “Not presumptuous per se. I just hate to waste time.”
“I see your point,” she responded. He was too charming for his own good.
“Well then, my beautiful Charlotte, would you care for a glass of sangria?”
A servant had approached them with a silver tray of crystal glasses filled with a dark red liquid. Gavin took two glasses from the tray and extended his hand to her before she could respond.
“What is it?”
“It is a kind of fruit punch made with red wine. I think you’ll like it.”
Normally Charlotte did not imbibe alcohol, but tonight was different. She felt different. She accepted the glass, her fingers lightly brushing his as she did so, and a little thrill went through her. She took a sip, and the rich fruity flavor tingled her throat. She smiled at him. “Mmmm.”
“See there. I was correct.” He settled back into the velvet cushions. “I know you already.”
The soft, jasmine-scented air wafted around them. Charlotte sighed and glanced up at the stars glittering in the night sky. This was certainly one of the most unusual evenings of her life.
“So tell me, beautiful girl, why are you here in Spain?”
She turned to see his hazel eyes sparkling at her. “Why are you here?” she countered.
“Guess.”
She smiled at him. Oh, this was far too easy. “You are escaping the drudgery of schoolwork and avoiding lectures from your father on accepting the responsibilities of your position.”
His rich laughter caused others to turn and stare in their direction. “You would be correct, my Charlotte. How did you know?”
“Wild guess,” she quipped, taking another sip of the luxurious sangria. The possessive use of her name secretly thrilled her and she wondered why that should be so. She knew he did not mean such endearments. He was the type who used such language with casual ease and little consequence. Still …
He arched a brow suggestively. “Let me guess why you are here then.”
“I bet you can’t guess.”
“I cannot resist a challenge. Especially such a delightful one.”
She took a sip of sangria. “Impress me then.”
“Let’s see…. Your parents have passed away and your eccentric aunt is now your guardian.” He gave her a look of triumph.
She hesitated a moment. “Well, you are partly right. My father passed away when I was very young. My mother has since remarried, so I have a stepfather. But both are alive and well and more than able to watch over me properly.”
He tapped his finger against his chin. “Ah, well then, it only stands to reason that you are traveling with your aunt until the gossip of some terrible scandal you caused back home dies down!”
Now it was Charlotte’s laughter that drew attention. The absurdity of his guess amused her. She shook her head at him. “Oh, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it’s nothing that dramatic. Try again.”
He cocked his head to the side and eyed her critically. “You are escaping the overly amorous attentions of an unwanted suitor?”
Charlotte cringed a bit at this. It was not one unwanted suitor in particular but rather all the suitors in general she found completely unsuitable. To put it simply she had not met someone she could foresee spending the rest of her life with. She had been introduced to many upstanding and proper gentlemen during her first Season, as well as her second and third. Some of the gentlemen were even quite charming and attractive, just not attractive to her. No one had met her expectations. Her parents were exhausted and frustrated with Charlotte’s excuses for turning down prospective husbands. They despaired of her ever approving of a proposal of marriage, so when Aunt Louisa offered to take Charlotte on a tour of the continent, her parents, overwhelmed with caring for their four young sons, readily agreed to send her off with her aunt for the summer. They hoped a change in scenery might prompt a change in Charlotte’s outlook.
So here she was.
“I’m right, am I not?” he boasted.
“On the contrary.”
“There is no suitor pursuing you?” There was a note of disbelief in his tone.
“No.” Charlotte sipped her sangria.
“How could such a thing be possible?” Gavin’s face was incredulous. “One so beautiful as you?”
“I do not lack for suitors, I assure you.” Her chin went up. “However, I am rather discriminating in my tastes.”
“Oh, I see now.” He nodded sagely. “You are one of those types of females.”
Charlotte bristled slightly at his remark. “And just what type would that be?”
“The very worst kind.”
“Please explain.”
“I think you know exactly what I am referring to.” He drank his sangria.
“I’m afraid you must enlighten me, Mr. Ellsworth.”
“Gavin.”
She sighed. “Gavin.”
He regarded her steadily. “You, my lovely Charlotte, are the type of female who thinks she is too good for any man.”
Charlotte gasped. It sounded ridiculous. Was that the way men perceived her? That she was too good for them? It certainly was not how she felt about herself or about males in general. Perhaps Mr. Gavin Ellsworth had a point. Were her standards too high? Had she held herself out of reach? Maybe she had unwittingly been holding out for someone better? Someone perfect? So what if she had, was that so wrong?
If that were not enough, he added, “You’ve turned down perfectly suitable marriage proposals and your parents no longer know what to do with you.”
She didn’t say a word.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back. “I win.”
“It took you three guesses! Besides, I merely know what I like and what I don’t like,” she countered in indignation.
He leaned in close to her and grinned. “And you like me, don’t you?”
“That, my dear Gavin,” Charlotte murmured flirtatiously, ignoring her fluttering heart, “remains to be seen, now doesn’t it?”
Chapter 3
“Move your lips closer to Charlotte’s cheek,” Doña Yvonne instructed as she stood behind a large canvas, her colorful pots of paints and her brushes and palettes close by. Her dark hair was swept back from her face and she wore a spattered smock.
Gavin had officially landed in hell and wondered how he had gotten himself in this position in the first place.
He hated posing for portraits, yet here he was, holding the luscious and half-naked Charlotte Wilton in his arms. Under normal circumstances such an arrangement would be quite pleasurable, yet at the moment it was nothing short of torturous agony. Never had he held a woman so intimately before and not been able to further his advances.
He and Charlotte had both arrived at the studio of their hostess just before dawn, as instructed, sleepy but willing to be immortalized on canvas, unaware that Doña Yvonne had envisioned painting them as some sort of ancient Grecian deities or some such nonsense. Using her skillful persuasion and charm, within moments Doña Yvonne had gotten them both draped artfully in nothing but a few yards of pale silk cloth.
The sight of Charlotte’s creamy white shoulders and bare arms and legs and knowing there was not a stitch of cloth- ing beneath the silk almost undid Gavin then and there. Doña Yvonne had loosened Charlotte’s blond hair from its pins and the silky locks cascaded in golden waves to her waist, glistening in the pastel dawn light. With her sultry blue eyes, she looked as if she had just risen from a passionate night in his bed. Which did nothing to calm him of his already aroused state.
Garbed in his own array of silk, which was wrapped strategically around his waist, leaving his chest and legs bare, Gavin had been instructed to sit upon a marble bench and hold Charlotte in his arms. Charlotte’s eyes had widened considerably at Doña Yvonne’s request, but she had gamely followed orders, which is how he had come to be embracing the scantily clad Miss Wilton while she lay practically naked across his lap, her gorgeous legs crossed elegantly at the other end of the bench.
Although it was no hardship on his part, he dutifully pressed his lips closer to Charlotte’s soft cheek. Her swift intake of breath indicated she was as aroused as he was. He tried not to smile in satisfaction. After their lengthy meal together on the veranda the night before, he had wanted to kiss her, but Charlotte had held herself at a distance and would not allow him an opportunity. He reasoned it had been for the best, since she was not at all the type of woman he dallied with. Or should even consider dallying with. She was too reserved, too British, and in the end too much trouble.
However, he now found himself reconsidering his entire position on the matter.
Charlotte had shocked him by going along with this risqué pose.
Now that he held her this way he realized she was even more desirable than he first envisioned. Consequently, he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any other woman. He ached to caress her creamy skin. God, but she smelled heavenly! An intoxicating floral scent. And she was so light in his arms, petite as she was.
“Gavin, querido,” Doña Yvonne called out. “Move your left hand up a little bit higher.”
A little bit higher? If he was not in hell already, he was certainly on his way now. Never one to miss a good opportunity whatever the consequences, Gavin did not need to be told twice. Slowly he inched his hand along the silk fabric until he cupped the underside of Charlotte’s soft, full, and temptingly delicious breast. She sucked in her breath again and trembled slightly. It took every ounce of his self-control not to squeeze her luscious form. His finger brushed her hardened nipple and his groin tightened in response, while his right hand rested possessively on the seductive curve of her hip.
“Bien,” Doña Yvonne said, looking pleased. “Now, Charlotte, lean back into him and relax.”
Gavin’s wild heartbeat echoed with Charlotte’s against his own chest. He had expected her to protest in outrage, or to stand up and leave, decrying the indecent nature of the portrait session. She did not. Instead she settled into him, resting her head on his shoulder just as their artistic hostess requested.
“That is perfecto. Now … Do not move,” Doña Yvonne ordered them, her hand moving across the canvas.
Do not move. Gavin gritted his teeth. Do not move while a beautiful and half-naked woman reclines on my lap, my lips are pressed against her cheek, and I cup her breast in my hand. God in heaven, at this moment he began to regret ever agreeing to come to Spain in the first place!
The exquisite torment of posing in some sort of Grecian tableau continued for some time while both remained silent. All he heard was the pounding of his heart and the soft intake of Charlotte’s shallow breathing. The heat of her body permeated every pore of his skin. Caught between heaven and hell, Gavin could do nothing but remain motionless while he held Charlotte Wilton intimately in his arms and tortured himself with vivid images of what he wanted to do to her. The desire to kiss her, to taste her sweet lips, and to remove the flimsy pale silk that barely shielded her naked body consumed his entire being, and he wrestled with the need to restrain himself from ravishing her there in full view of an astonished Doña Yvonne.
After what seemed like an eternity, Doña Yvonne declared, “That is all I can do today. The light has changed. You will both come back tomorrow, no?”
Tomorrow? Gavin groaned inwardly. It had not occurred to him that he would have to endure this intimate encounter with Charlotte for more than one morning. Undoubtedly a portrait required several sessions at least. It was impossible to back out of doing the portrait now without offending his hostess. He would have to continue until it was complete. How would he survive this?
“Of course we will,” Charlotte’s soft voice murmured, as she began to move from his embrace.
He admired her spirit for agreeing to continue but doubted that she had to fight to restrain her baser urges the way he did. The sessions might be awkward or uncomfortable for her, but they would not be painful, as they were for him. Reluctant to let her go, Gavin let his hands slide from her perfect body. As she stood, a gap in the pale silk draped across her chest afforded Gavin with a brief glimpse of Charlotte’s breast. His mouth went dry, but he automatically assisted her to her feet, taking her hand in his. A pair of liquid blue eyes shyly met his as he did so. Something within their depths called to him, causing his heart to flip, and Gavin had to shake himself mentally at the silly perception.
“How long will it take?” he managed to utter somewhat hoarsely, his eyes still locked with Charlotte’s.
“Perhaps a week. Maybe more. Quién sabe?” Doña Yvonne answered. “I promise I will only keep you for an hour or so each morning; then you shall have the rest of the day free to do as you wish.”
Charlotte glanced away and pulled her hands free from his, wrapping the silk tighter around her body. Gavin
continued to stare at her, strangely moved by their encounter.
“No, no, you must not look yet!” Doña Yvonne waved Charlotte away from the large canvas. “I shall let you see it only when it is finished completely. No, todavía no!”
Charlotte laughed and took a step back, a smile lighting her face. Gavin still could not take his eyes off of her.
“Now, get dressed the two of you.” Doña Yvonne gave them a knowing glance. “Why do you not go visit some of the city? It is still early and you have the day ahead of you yet.”
Gavin watched Charlotte retreat into the next room in order to don her clothes. Her elegant stride and the graceful sway of her hips mesmerized him. When she disappeared behind the door, he noticed his artistic hostess looking in his direction.
Doña Yvonne winked at him. “¿Qué hombre más guapo eres tú, eh?”
He did not know what she said exactly, but he took her meaning well enough to actually blush a little, suddenly realizing he still stood in nothing but his strategically placed silk attire.
“Now go and take that beautiful girl and enjoy the sun,” she commanded with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Chapter 4
Charlotte spent the rest of the day sequestered in the safety of her bedroom. She could do little else given how she spent that morning.
She needed to recover her nerve in order to survive another portrait sitting.
Gavin had invited her to tour the city and perhaps visit the shore, but she had politely thanked him and declined. It was far better to retreat to the sanctuary of her little room than spend another minute in his presence, where she might do something reckless and impulsive such as kiss him.
Honestly, what had Doña Yvonne been thinking to pose them in such a risqué fashion? The woman had asked so charmingly and made it all seem so easy that before Charlotte knew it she was wearing nothing but silk, her hair hanging loose. It was hardly what one would deem as decent and Charlotte should have refused to be a party to such a scene.