She should have declined, since he made it too easy to reveal more of herself than she had intended. But she found his keen interest quite intoxicating, irresistibly so. "What else would you like to know?"
"Do you believe there is one love for each of us in our lifetime?"
"That would be like saying there can only be one masterpiece in the art world. Would you paint one portrait and then say, 'No more, ever again'?"
"You make an excellent point," he admitted. "How does your theory fit with someone painting the same portrait over and over until they get it perfect?"
"They are to be pitied, for they are unable to allow themselves room for new knowledge and experiences. Art, and love, require room to expand."
He nodded, as if giving great weight to her answers. He continued to sketch, glancing up at her occasionally. She thought he had given up on questions, but then he startled her with another one.
"Do you plan to marry again someday?"
She nearly ignored it, since his sincere gaze was even more disconcerting than his grin. She sat up a little straighter, her hands folded primly in her lap, but it felt unnatural all of a sudden. It seemed he was serving as some sort of muse, too, inspiring the most untoward notions in her body and her brain.
"I truly do not know. I suppose if the opportunity arose...It is not as though I am besieged by suitors."
"While accompanying my aunt?" He grinned. "I can see how that might dampen a young man's ardor."
She laughed. "There is nothing quite like her peering through her lorgnette to make a man reconsider any amorous notions he might have had."
"It frightened my cousins and me often enough."
Her laughter increased. "You cannot have been too afraid or you would not have pulled so many pranks on her. Her lorgnette seemed to be one of your favorite targets."
"We were merciless. Though I suspect she would have been disappointed had we not continued tormenting her. She should have banished us but instead continued to invite us for visits at every opportunity."
"Have you any mischief planned for this occasion?"
"You know, it had not even occurred to me. She took us all by surprise with her unabashed plans to match us up. Now Miles and Richard are so consumed with their lady loves, I doubt I could tear them away to devise a new prank."
"Understandable. Perhaps you will have to do it alone."
He shrugged. "I plan to spend my time in a more productive fashion."
"Will it be as enjoyable?"
That slow, seductive grin of his appeared again, and she had to fight off a shiver. "Even more so."
It had been too long since she had been the center of anyone's attentions, and it rattled her completely. She stood up so abruptly it made the blossom tucked in her hair fall to the ground. She reached down to retrieve it, and William was there instantly, his hand atop hers.
Their lips were close to touching as well. There was no reason to want him to kiss her, not when she knew there was not a happy ending down the road for them. He would leave once the party was concluded, and she would return to her role as quiet companion, her days as an artist's muse a memory that might not prove as comforting as she would hope.
"It is time for me to go," she breathed.
"Not yet. You have at least a quarter hour."
"There will never be enough time. We both know that."
"True. Yet I am intent on making use of what we are given."
It was a tempting thought. And it had been a long while since she had been tempted. She had made that choice once, and it had not turned out so well. It was why she was now a companion, rather than a rich man's wife surrounded by numerous children and all the creature comforts life had in store.
Not that she had ever regretted that decision. It would be unfair to her husband's memory if she attempted to do so now. Yet it also seemed unfair that she should never again enjoy pleasurable moments such as the ones William was clearly offering.
He must have seen the confusion and longing in her face. He pressed a tender kiss against her mouth. His fingers held her chin lightly, keeping her in place while his lips lavished attention on hers. It was as if he were discovering a treasure, and wanted to share his delight with her. The sensations made her lightheaded, and she grasped his arms to keep from slipping to the floor.
She gave herself over to the rising passion, craving more of his touch, wishing they had even more time available to explore the undeniable desire between them.
His lips made their way down her throat. She tilted her head back to give him free rein. He stopped where her pulse pounded out of control, his mouth hovering there as if absorbing her life force. He placed another gentle kiss against her throat, and then another, each one moving across her skin and setting it afire.
There was so much she wanted from this man. If only there was more time...
The reminder was akin to being doused with cold water. "I must go," she said. "The Dowager will send a search party if I am not by her side when she awakes."
William groaned, and she relished the rumbling sensation against her throat. Her nipples tightened in response, while other regions of her body set up a clamor. It could prove most embarrassing trying to explain to her employer what had caused such reactions. She pushed against William's chest, lightly, gratified when he did not protest.
"This feels like some sort of retribution for all the havoc I wreaked against my aunt when I was younger."
Honora laughed, and he joined in. "You may want to reconsider causing her any future aggravation then."
"The only thing that will aggravate her is resisting her matrimonial efforts." He gave her another quick kiss and then assisted her to her feet. "And that is an aggravation I am willing to handle."
Honora was not sure how to respond, so she said nothing. She brushed her clothing into place and glanced at her reflection in the window, ensuring her hair was not awry.
"And now you are once more Mrs. Beaumont, companion extraordinaire."
She spun around, expecting to see mockery in his expression. To her surprise, it was not there. He seemed rueful, or wistful.
"Honora can return. If you wish."
"Oh yes, I do wish." William grinned as he folded her into his embrace, and she had to tilt her head back to see into his eyes. They were filled with determination. "Tomorrow."
She nodded. "Yes, tomorrow. After all, you have a portrait to complete. And I must ensure there are no horns or flames of hell as part of it."
He gave her a playful squeeze. "And I have yet to give you any of the lessons you earned. We must make good use of the time available to us."
"Yes, we must. We will."
She reluctantly pushed against his chest until he dropped his arms. He looked so bereft, the exact same way she felt inside, that she nearly threw caution to the wind. Fortunately there was still a voice of reason prodding her to walk toward the door, and she wisely heeded it. Once she was there, she turned around and saw William watching her.
He touched two fingers to his lips, kissed them, and then turned them in her direction. She placed a hand to her racing heart, hoping she would not swoon before she could make it through the door. Waiting an entire day to see him again might prove unbearable.
She slipped through the door without a backward glance while she had the will to do so.
***
William sat down on a nearby stool. It had been an inspiring hour. He had been unable to keep up with the ideas flowing through him as he'd sketched Honora, hearing her responses to his myriad questions.
Yet it had also been a frustrating hour, since he had been most unwilling to relinquish her once it was time for her to leave.
Once again, he grumbled at the unfairness of their situation. Honora handled it with a great deal more aplomb, having spent a few years in her role, while he was unused to curbing his desires. He was grateful for the encounter, there was no denying that. It merely left him wanting more, and more of her.
He
moved to the table where he had left his earlier sketch of her. He had concentrated on her face. It was a fascinating study, since she was so accustomed to keeping her emotions masked, though she had let that slip while conversing with him.
He enjoyed learning more of the woman behind that façade. He understood the need for it. He indulged in the same sort of exercise, since he did not want everyone privy to his inner thoughts. He felt differently when he was with Honora though. Perhaps because she understood what it was like to hold her feelings close, away from prying eyes.
Yet he wanted to pry. He needed to know more about the spark of fire and passion he had glimpsed on several occasions. She had become so practiced at keeping it hidden that it would take time and patience on his part. He had the patience. He just did not know if he would be granted enough time.
Was there another solution to this problem? He grinned. Perhaps he could blackmail Richard into helping him. No, that was not fair. His cousin deserved to enjoy his time with the woman he adored. William was not about to take that away from him. Miles was equally besotted. He would not find assistance from him either.
He had no idea what to do other than enjoy the few hours he would have with Honora. He knew a solution would present itself—it always did, and in the most unimaginable, unpredictable fashion. It was that way when he painted. There was no reason to expect it would be different when his heart insisted on becoming involved.
He took the preliminary sketch he had made and moved to the easel. He removed the half-finished canvas containing the roses and set it aside. It would be difficult to see a yellow rose and not associate it with Honora, the way her skin had pinkened delightfully when he ran the bloom across her cheekbones. Her eyes had brightened as well, watching him caress her in every subtle way he could.
He hoped he could capture that in the portrait. It would be a challenge, but one he relished. It would also assuage the disappointment at not having her physically present. Tomorrow seemed like such a long way off. He picked up a blank canvas and set it on the easel.
Time to start his attempt to put her perfection onto this humble surface.
Chapter 19
William tried not to grin when he heard the light tap at the door of his studio. His heart leapt with excitement as he strode quickly to open the door and let Honora inside.
"Welcome. I have been anxiously awaiting your return."
Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I hope I am not late. The Dowager nearly gave me a fright when she said she might skip her nap today."
"No! I would have rushed down with a sleeping draught if that had happened."
She clucked her tongue. "You are bound to find yourself on her bad side with such talk."
"It is well worth the risk." He lifted her hand to his lips. "I had never known the span of one day could prove so long."
"It was the same for me. If only the one hour we are permitted would slow to a halt."
"You are reading my thoughts. Come. We must get started. It will be time to bid each other adieu before we know it."
It pleased him that a frown instantly appeared on her forehead, though she managed to banish it quickly. She was obviously not planning to spend their moments together with fretting.
"Shall I sit? Or will you be instructing me?"
William was torn. He knew how much she wanted to have instruction, and he wanted to provide it. Yet he also enjoyed having her sit for him, since it allowed him to gaze at her uninterrupted, watching the various emotions float across her face.
"Perhaps we shall start with some instruction," he answered, "and then we can have you sit."
"I shall have you sit for me one day."
That startled a laugh out of him. "I should enjoy that very much. I cannot remember a time that I have ever been the subject for an artist."
"You have ensured I shall enjoy it that much more then."
He grinned and motioned her to join him at the table. "Why don't you do a sketch of something? I can see how you do things, and possibly suggest how to attempt it differently."
"Yes, that would work well." She beamed as she reached for a stub of charcoal and then pulled a piece of parchment closer. "Though I am not certain what to draw. And please be kind. I do not have anywhere near the talent that you do."
"I have no intentions of being unkind. Ever." When she glanced up at him, he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. "You have nothing at all to fear from me."
She gave him a quick nod. "It is merely my nerves speaking. I am not usually so faint-hearted..."
"It is easy to lose confidence when attempting to put one's heart and soul onto a blank page."
"That is precisely it." She smoothed her hand over the paper and then her lips lifted in a secretive smile. Before he could ask what had brought it on, she began making several quick bold strokes. A face took up the majority of the space, and then she filled in the details—large, expressive eyes bracketed by strong brows he recognized as his, along with a pair of lips he saw in his mirror each morning.
"You have quite downplayed your skills," he commented as he continued to watch his likeness appear before him.
She tilted her head his direction again. "I have never been very good with noses."
"Understandable. They have more dimension to them, so it is a challenge to translate them to a flat surface."
Honora did her best to duplicate his nose, but without success. "I shall leave that until later. I can include some of the other details for now." She leaned forward, blocking his view, but he could see her shoulders shaking lightly with mirth. He was eager to see what it was she had done. In the next instant, she stepped back. "There."
He laughed heartily. "Well done. The horns are perfection, and the flames of hell—brilliant. You have the makings of a great artist."
"Once I have mastered noses."
He rubbed his nose against hers. "We shall give that our attention in future."
She did not even hesitate. She placed her lips against his, gently inviting him inside, but he shook his head, stepping back.
"I am afraid I shall not be able to stop at kissing," he admitted. "You are too much of a temptation, and my ability to remain a gentleman is weakening the more I am near you."
He half expected her to blush furiously and then move across the room, but to his surprise, her lips curved up into a delightful smile. "I am not the only one then."
He pretended to mistake her words. "You are having trouble remaining a gentleman?"
"Yes," she laughed. "Precisely. So what are we to do about it?"
They had both grown solemn, aware that they were on the precipice of something momentous. He could not bear if he did anything to frighten her away. This one hour each day had become nearly as important as breathing, and if she were to decide, after they made love, that she did not want to return...
He took too long to respond, so Honora made the choice for him. "Perhaps you could begin to work on my portrait."
But instead of sitting on the nearby stool, waiting for him to gather his sketching materials, she loosened the ribbons holding the front of her dress. She slipped the fabric farther down until it draped in the most beguiling fashion.
William's heart pounded fiercely. His breathing was so erratic as to be next to useless when he saw her pale skin being exposed, the curves of her breasts coming into view.
"Yes, your portrait would be a good start."
His voice was husky, no doubt letting her know the effect she was having on him. He took her hand in his and led her to a chaise in the corner, slightly away from the windows. Not that anyone would be outside looking in. They were in such a remote portion of the house. Still, he took the precaution of moving a brocade folding screen to shield her from any onlookers.
She sat on the edge of the furniture and kicked off her slippers. She swung her legs onto the chaise and then lay back. Her eyes beckoned him and William had no troubles moving swiftly to her side. When she patted the edge of the chaise, he s
at next to her.
"Can this portrait be something only you will see?"
He was instantly aroused by her words, as well as the excitement in her eyes. Did she believe he would not want such a painting of her? It would no doubt soothe the ache of leaving her behind, even when he refused to acknowledge that day arriving.
"A portrait of Honora? Or Mrs. Beaumont?"
"Honora," she said softly. "Your Honora."
It was too much. He kissed her more intensely than he ever had before. Her trust, and her passion, were gifts he had never expected, yet now he needed them more than life itself. He forced himself to stop, but only so he could revel in her beauty.
Her lips were a deeper red from their kisses. Her gaze was softer, dreamy, as if she were in a daze. He plucked at the pins holding her hair in place. The rich dark curls tumbled freely, covering her chest, but she brushed the strands aside.
William leaned forward and kissed the tantalizing curves on display for him. Honora tugged the bodice lower until she was completely bared. He took a tightened nipple between his lips and gave it all of his attention. Her unabashed moan of pleasure nearly undid him, but he would not cease. Instead, he gave her a quick little nip with his teeth. She pulled his head closer, to aid his efforts.
He turned his attention to her other nipple, letting her swift intake of breath guide him, intent on pleasing her however he could. She threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair, tightening her grip when a new wave of pleasure hit her. He continued the passionate assault, ignoring the riotous response of his own body as best he could. She recognized it, for she began tugging at his shirt, until he lifted away from her so he could remove it and toss it aside.
She smiled and placed her hands on his chest, caressing it in a delightful fashion. "It would be brazen to call this a masterpiece—"
"It cannot compare to this one." He circled his finger around the rosy knot atop her breast. "I am quite partial to it."
"I hope you do not plan to include it in my portrait," she teased.
He pretended to frown. "I cannot see why not. It is a great deal easier to replicate than noses are."
Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone? Page 15