Page 11

There was a silence, and then, “Yes. Something like that.”

For a moment, she wondered whether she could… Well. Not flirt with him. Not exactly. Show her admiration. Reveal to Richard just what a fine man she thought him.

The trouble was, Evelyn was not sure where to begin.

Her cousin Maude was a tremendous flirt, and Evelyn had always admired the way she spoke to gentlemen without any fear. Not that she herself was nervous around gentlemen in general, not in the slightest.

Around this man in particular? Yes.

Evelyn swallowed. That was the trouble with having led a sheltered life, she supposed. Being the daughter of an earl had its advantages, but it had not given her much instruction on the ways of speaking with admiration to men.

Not that it had ever been a problem until now.

The gentlemen at parties since her coming out had found her eccentricities too much to be borne, it seemed.

“I… I will get back to my drawing,” Evelyn said awkwardly into the silence.

It was not so much a retreat as she moved to her canvas, but in a way, it was a welcome screen between them.

It gives Richard the opportunity to collect himself , she thought as she picked up her pencil, and me time to remind myself that I am here to draw, not flirt with a man I know almost nothing about!

Except he was handsome. And brave. And had endured much.

“I had thought you would paint me.”

“Perhaps I will, but it was as a study that I chose you. I need to improve my men.”

There was a laugh. “I thought you liked your brother.”

“Oh, not like that!” Though it wouldn’t hurt Percy to endure a few small improvements. “I mean, take landscapes— landscapes I excel at. Nature, sunlight, and shadow—those are things I am very good at.”

“Indeed.”

Oh, that sounded like boasting, did it not? The trouble was, Evelyn knew she was not exaggerating. Having spent the best part of her life drawing daisies, as well as the little pond here in their London townhouse and the lake in the country, and beetles and birds and mushrooms and mountains…

She was very good.

“And you’ve… you’ve drawn yourself. In the nude.”

Now was it her imagination, or was Richard a mite short of breath all of a sudden?

Evelyn’s own lungs tightened at the remembrance of what she had said to him, the first time he had come for a sitting.

“You have never heard of a full-length looking glass?”

It had been forward, now she came to think of it—but then, she had only been honest. She had painted herself in the nude, several times. It was a lot more challenging than people thought, but finding the looking glass that was almost as tall as she was had helped.

“Yes,” Evelyn said aloud, surprised at the hoarseness in her voice. “Yes, I have. But being a woman is only helpful for half of my study on the human form. And being a woman is a hindrance.”

“‘A hindrance’?”

The poor man, he sounded quite surprised. Evelyn shook her head as she attempted to sketch out the breadth of his chest. It truly was a very broad chest. “Well, there are classes for men, classes where models go and lounge about completely naked—”

“Don’t you be thinking, just because I removed my shirt—”

“Yes, yes,” Evelyn said, her cheeks pinking. If this was how intoxicated she became around Richard with his shirt off, she could hardly imagine what it would be like, attempting to draw him with no clothes on at all.

Richard, with no clothes on at all…

“So you have always loved art?”

The question jerked Evelyn from a place where, for some reason, it was crucial that both she and Richard were utterly nude. “I beg your pardon?”

There was a gentle laugh from the other side of her canvas. “I don’t suppose I am distracting you, am I, Lady Evelyn?”

Distracting? Absolutely not. Almost definitely not. A little.

Evelyn collected herself. “You should call me ‘Evelyn,’ I suppose. It would put us on a more equal footing.”

She did not need to look around her easel to know the smirk that was spreading across Richard’s face. She had already memorized it.

“Ah, but we are not equals, are we?”

“I suppose not,” Evelyn conceded. “But still. I would like it if you called me ‘Evelyn.’”

The words had slipped from her tongue before she could call them back. Even now, she was not certain whether she would have wished to call them back.

“Evelyn,” came Richard’s low voice.

Evelyn shivered. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

It was a small thing, to lose the ‘Lady’ before her name, but no one outside the family had ever done that before and it was…

intoxicating. The thrum of his voice had somehow vibrated through her body, warming it, reminding her that what they were doing was not socially acceptable.

Perhaps that was why she was enjoying it so much.

“Art,” she said firmly aloud, mostly to herself. “Yes, I have always loved art. If I had been a man, a younger son, I suppose I might have been an artist. But instead…”

“Instead, you are an artist.”

Evelyn stepped to the side, looking around the easel. “I beg your pardon?”

Richard spread out his hands, gesturing about her studio. It was most provoking that he had moved from the position she had requested, but it was hardly possible for her to argue. Not with that splendid sight before her.

“You have a studio, you draw, you paint, you pay models,” he said with a wry smile. “I am not sure what else you would have to do to be an artist. Do you not think?”

Evelyn stared. He… He understands. He considers me an artist . “You truly think so?”

Richard shrugged, and Evelyn could not drag her eyes away from the undulation of the muscles in the movement. “Yes, I think so. You are an artist, Evelyn.”

It was so strange; she had heard those words from her family numerous times—usually in the form of complaints, it was true, but still.

Hearing them from Richard’s lips meant more, somehow. Precisely why, she did not know, but it did. His approval, his confirmation that she was the thing she so craved to be, made something trickle into her soul.

“You look a tad warm, Evelyn.”

Richard’s voice forced her to focus.

“And you look a tad out of place, Richard,” Evelyn said smartly, as though she could remind him with such a tone that she was the one in charge here. If she were truly an artist, then he should not have been disobeying her. “Here, let me put you back.”

Fine, it wasn’t strictly necessary for her to step across the studio and place her hands on his shoulder and arm, Evelyn would admit. At least, she would have done, if anyone had accused her of having ulterior motives. Which she absolutely did.

She almost gasped at the initial contact. Where the burns had died away to puckered scars, the flesh was soft, smooth—almost too smooth. Where the flames had not licked away at his skin, there was a strength, a roughness of wiry hair.

Richard’s head jerked around to face her. “Evelyn.”

Evelyn could not move. All she could murmur was, “Richard.”

It happened swiftly. How precisely it happened, she did not know. All she knew was that the world suddenly tipped sideways and somehow, she was in his arms, splayed across Richard’s lap, and his mouth was on hers.

He was kissing her.

Evelyn squirmed in shock, desperate to get away… until the unbridled passion of Richard’s kiss made her melt into his strong arms.

Oh, this was beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

His tongue was bold, demanding something from her that she did not know how to give.

Tendrils of sparking pleasure were aching across her face, dripping down to her neck, tightening at her breasts and her hands—her hands, which somehow found themselves around his neck and, instead of pushing him away, were pulling him closer.

Closer. Oh, she wanted to be closer—and yet Evelyn was not sure how much closer they could be. His presence was unbearable, his torso and arms enclosing her into a cage of pleasure, and as the kiss deepened…

Evelyn’s eyes opened and she gasped.

She was sitting in the lap of a shirtless man kissing him with abandon!

The sudden shock jolted them apart. Richard looked deep into her eyes, his chest heaving as he panted, and Evelyn managed to clamber clumsily out of his lap.

She was panting too. They both were. The giddiness of that kiss, that overwhelming kiss, that perfect—

No.

“I think you should leave,” Evelyn said as coldly as she could manage.

After all, this cannot be borne! Sitters are not supposed to go around kissing their artists!

And yes, it had been a delightful kiss. Evelyn raised a hand to her mouth before she could stop herself. A very wonderful kiss. It had been the best kiss she had ever received.

Fine, it was the only kiss—but still! If all kisses were like that, she could well understand why so many young ladies in Society risked scandal to get them.

Richard had risen from the chair, which only accentuated his height, the power of him. “Evelyn—”

“I think after all, Lady Evelyn is a better idea,” she said in a rush, hastily stepping backward. “And I asked—I told you to leave.”

“Look, I suppose I should not have—”

“No, you should not have,” Evelyn said instinctively, going against every cry of her body.

Because ladies should not have been kissing men they barely knew. Because daughters of earls did not kiss gentlemen, let alone common men.

And because if he stayed, if Richard remained here, she would not be able to stop herself from kissing him again.

“Please, give me another chance.”

Evelyn could not help but laugh drily at that. “We have more than enough Chances in this family, I assure you! Please, Richard, please leave.”

Saying his name had been a mistake. It had softened her tone, made it a plea rather than a command.

Richard took a step toward her. He was still without a shirt. “It won’t happen again.”

All the more reason for you to leave , Evelyn thought wryly. “I said, please leave.”

“Don’t you want to finish the study of my arms?”

It was, perhaps, the only thing Richard could have said that would have made Evelyn hesitate.

She glanced at her easel. It would be most infuriating to have a study unfinished. And it would only take another sitting, perhaps two. She was almost certain she could prevent herself from kissing him for that time.

What am I thinking?!

“Please,” Richard said, his voice softer now. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Despite herself, Evelyn looked over at him and met his eyes. There was honesty there, a truthfulness not even the best actor could pretend.

Nowhere else to go . Who knew whether or not the shillings she paid him for sitting for her was the only coin he was currently earning? The only coin putting a roof over his head and food on his table?

What, was she going to let him starve?

“Fine,” Evelyn said warily with a sigh. “But no more kissing.”

Richard lowered himself back onto the chair and grinned. “Look, who am I to argue with an artist? But if the muse takes you that way—I’ll always keep out an eye for the chance.”