Page 33 of The Lady is Trouble

Yes, he resolved and stroked, sending a painful jolt through his shoulder.

What?

He blinked, puzzled, the details presented not adding up. Morning, but late judging by the sunlit strip sitting high atop the wall. His head lay on his bed pillow, but the hard planks beneath him were no bed. Shading his eyes against the spill of light, he went up on the arm not throbbing like the devil and kicked a thin woolen blanket from his body.Bloody hell, he thought as the night came flooding back. He was sleeping in front of the lodge’s door and…

Piper’s touch had been no dream.

Had she stayed? Would she risk such—

He didn’t have to actuallyseeher curled in a neat bundle on his sofa to feel the impact; his body vibrated like someone had teased a bow across it. As if the floor was made of ice, he got slowly to his feet.

Obviously, she would risk everything.

She lay on her side, hands folded beneath her cheek as if in prayer, hair a russet spill teasing the paint-spattered carpet. The counterpane from his bed had slipped to her waist, her luscious breasts doing a gravitational shift against the fabric of her dress.

She looked innocent, angelic even, when she was anything but.

Her invasion of his private space for some unfathomable reason called to mind that damned kiss.

Something he should have never started but wished he’d started earlier.

Dangerous thoughts, dangerous desires.

His cock hard enough to pound timber was an excellent sign he should wake her, send her back to the main house.

Helplessly, his gaze flicked to his bedchamber door. He’d never made love in the lodge; he’d only made art.

Recognition consumed him as he stood there debating. He realized the feeling was similar to oneaftersex, that instant of intimacy which, in his experience, immediately turned in upon itself and made you feel lonelier than when you’d started.

Only, he didn’t feel lonely.

He feltcomplete—when he had yet to touch her.

Julian rocked back on his heels. Lifted his hand to his head and tried to rub the sensation out.Idiot. Seeing her thus was familiarity afforded a husband.

Or a lover.

Releasing a low hiss through his teeth, he again glanced toward his bedchamber, steps away from where she lay sleeping.

Piper let out a soft murmur, and he looked back to see a stockingless foot slide from beneath the counterpane and through a dazzling sunlit strip. Forming the drawing in his mind, he stepped in. Shadow dancing over the delicate arch, light over the bony point of her ankle. The contrast between grey silk, the golden hue of her skin, and the crimson counterpane would be extraordinary in oil. Her hand dropped from its tuck beneath her cheek, finding rest in an artistic curl that broke his creative control.

Crazy, crazy, crazy, he cautioned even as he reached for his sketchpad.

He whispered instructions to a sleeping woman. Her beauty held that kind of power. The delicate curve of her shoulder, the dainty spill of her fingers on the carpet, cupped as if asking the sky for rain. This was his lost place, where time, plans, worry, slipped away like smoke in a fierce wind. Where he forgot the title, those days in the gutter, his goddamn gift. The people he had sworn to protect.

His very life.

Here, there was nothing but light and shadow. Bone, sinew, skin. Curves, lines, shapes on paper.Colors. A multitude of them.

As Piper lay there, he gloried in taking her wherehewanted her to go.

An hour later, maybe two, he came back to the present, found his hand stiff, his shoulder screaming, the sun a fierce burst outside the window.

The mental list came easily. Points that excited him; points that made him ill.

One. The house staff was aware of Piper’s presence. Breakfast had been left on the stoop, as it was each morning, but the amount was doubled this morn. And included chocolate, which was certainly not for him.

Two. The sketches were only the foundation for a complete work. Oil, if he went with what best suited. Full length. In the garden, surrounded by a riot of pigment. Or, with less clothing, right back there on his bed.