An Uncommon Duke. Laurie Benson

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Now it was Olivia’s turn to laugh, knowing just how false his statement was. ‘How often do you suppose you have said those words to the women who sit for you in this very room?’

      ‘Not as nearly as often as I’d like.’ He retreated back towards his easel. ‘Many women require thought to discover what is beautiful about them, but you will make my canvas sing without much effort on my part. Thereby, your allure will help me create a masterpiece all of London is sure to talk about.’

      ‘I already agreed to sit for you for this experiment of yours. You have no need to work your charms on me.’

      ‘I only speak the truth.’ He was back by her side again, his warm fingers tilting her neck up just a bit more. When she squinted up at him, his dark brown eyes were smiling down at her and his unfashionably long black hair had begun to come loose from the leather tie that held it back from his face. His unpolished appearance was a sharp contrast to her husband’s fastidious grooming habits.

      ‘I am relieved you do not expect me to remember this exact pose each day,’ she said, taking note of the position of her arms.

      His grin widened, and he moved a strand of hair away from her face. ‘My sketch guides me. You are always quite accommodating with all my poking and prodding. Once we are finished for the day, you may jerk my body into any complex tangle of your choosing.’

      That created an amusing image and she closed her eyes again. ‘What a capital notion! Now if you don’t grant me the breaks I require, I will devise painful retribution.’

      ‘My, what a bloodthirsty duchess you are.’

      The sound of his chalk scratching as he drew eased some of her tension. ‘Are you certain I do not appear large to you?’ she asked, trying to imagine what the sketch looked like.

      Chuckling, he continued to draw. ‘You are far from large. Although even if you were, it would be of no concern. Men enjoy curves on a woman. It gives us something to hold onto when we are in the throes of passion.’

      ‘Then I believe I have so many places for a man to hold onto, he would be at a quandary where to begin.’

      He laughed again. ‘I know where I would begin.’

      How she wished she could turn her head and peak at his expression. ‘Where?’

      ‘I am sketching it right now.’

      ‘Well, that was not very forthcoming.’

      ‘No, it was not.’

      Olivia began to laugh.

      ‘Do not move,’ he commanded.

      He adjusted the folds of the silk by her thigh. She bit her lip and prayed he didn’t notice the catch in her breath at the unexpected contact.

      ‘You have the kind of body that tempts men to steal a touch.’ He moved her left arm a fraction of an inch.

      Olivia opened one eye to study him. They had known each other for more than a year. Not once, in all that time, had he exhibited any form of inappropriate behaviour with her. Even now, she knew he saw her only as an object in his painting. He must be attempting to make her feel at ease, since she was sprawled out over his divan in a most unrefined pose. She was well aware what her body looked like and, as she had discovered from her recent encounter with Gabriel in her bedchamber, tempting was not how she would describe it.

      ‘So what exactly is one to interpret from this pose?’ she asked, fighting the urge to scratch her nose.

      ‘It is the pose of a woman who has just reached complete fulfilment,’ he replied as if discussing the weather.

      Olivia raised her head and stared at him aghast, unable to voice a response.

      ‘You must stop moving,’ he yelled. ‘This will be a masterpiece of movement and light. But each time you shift, you force me to readjust the folds of your gown. I cannot sketch you in a timely manner if I have to continually walk over there.’

      She rested her head back down and tried to move her head into the exact position he had placed it. Manning readjusted it a fraction of an inch and then adjusted the hair cascading over her breasts.

      He raised his eyebrow at her and pointed his chalk at her in warning. ‘Do. Not. Move.’

      ‘Fine, but I honestly do not believe anyone would be interested in seeing how I look after...well, after...’ Olivia was certain she could not blush any deeper than she was. ‘I am not the best subject for this. You should have asked someone younger. Men would find that much more enjoyable to look at.’

      ‘You believe you know us that well?’ The sketching resumed.

      ‘There are many beautiful girls you could have chosen.’

      ‘True—however, I am not interested in girls. Their innocence colours their sensuality. A woman with experience in the activities of the bedchamber has an innate sensuality that is apparent to any man over the age of sixteen.’

      ‘I am not sensual.’

      ‘Of course you are. It’s in the way your body moves and the way your eyes acquire a wicked glint, as if you know the secret of bringing a man to his knees.’ His voice was so calm and nonchalant.

      ‘So you really prefer women of my age?’

      ‘And older, but if you tell that to any of the young women that sit for me, I will deny it.’

      Managing to laugh without moving a muscle, Olivia considered what he said. She had spent years after their estrangement wondering what Gabriel found attractive. The notion of what other men preferred never entered her mind.

      * * *

      When he finally broke the long stretch of silence, it felt as if hours had passed. ‘I am almost finished with my preliminary sketch. Have any parts of you lost all sensation?’

      ‘My right arm is beginning to grow numb. This really is an indulgent pose. I believe I may have dozed for a few moments.’

      ‘I believe you did. Your breathing became quite rhythmic.’

      He approached her side, then rubbed her right arm. The warmth and pressure felt heavenly.

      ‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’ bellowed a deep, angry voice from the other end of the room.

      Olivia jerked her head towards the doorway and closed her eyes, pretending her husband was not standing there looking as if he wanted to toss them both out the window.

      Manning groaned at her movement and stared daggers at the imposing man who had interrupted their sitting. ‘Who are you to intrude in my studio, sir?’ he asked.

      ‘I am her husband. Now take your damn hands off her.’ Gabriel’s voice was commanding with no room for negotiation.

      Manning backed away, raising his hand in surrender. ‘I am simply adjusting her body for the portrait.’

      ‘I know of no respectable portrait that requires such СКАЧАТЬ