“I suppose it’s not important to you then.”
Keep walking, Ella, keep walking. “What?” she asked and cursed herself for stopping.
“Whatever it is my grandfather promised you. It must not be very important.”
Fran flashed to mind. Damn him. It didn’t matter what he’d been through; he didn’t have the right to treat her this way.
He met her eyes, and she saw something there, felt something. Just barely underneath the anger…need.
“I will do as you say for the next two weeks,” he said. “If you want me to take notes for three hours while you go on about Parliament, I shall.”
“I will not sit…nude. In my shift only,” she whispered, and the heat of shame swirled low in her belly.
"Your back will be to me. The wildflowers will hide you from view.”
In her shift, in broad daylight with Leo standing there the entire time? Over the shame and embarrassment, there was something more, something unidentifiable…something sinfully intoxicating. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t quite breathe. Excitement? No, of course not. It must be his emotion she felt.
“Women sat for me constantly while I was in Italy,” he murmured as he cleaned a brush. “I suppose on the Continent women are much more free. Nudity is something that is beautiful, not something to be ashamed of.”
It was a challenge, and she knew that, yet still took the bait. “I’m not ashamed.” She rolled her eyes at the blatant lie. Of course she was ashamed. Hadn’t Lady Buckley reminded her over and over that her skin was not to be on display? That a woman’s flesh was an evil temptation?
“Then why not?”
She didn’t respond.
“Two weeks, Ella. I’ll do what you say. I’ll be on time.” She felt his desperation. He wanted her there. He didn’t want to be alone.
“Three weeks.” She closed her eyes. Why had she said the words?
“Agreed.”
Dear Lord, she couldn’t…she couldn’t breathe. The sound of shuffling made her eyes fly open. “What are you doing?”
“Replacing my canvas.”
Her palms grew damp. “Oh, right.”
“Go ahead then. I’ll set up.”
“Turn around,” she demanded.
“Turn?”
She nodded. He turned, but not before she caught sight of his grin and felt his amusement like a warm caress. With fingers that trembled, she tugged off her dress. All the while, her frantic gaze searched the fields looking for signs of life.
“It’s Sunday,” Leo said.
“What does that matter?” The ocean breeze sweeping off the sea made her nipples harden. She crossed her arms over her shift-clad chest. Had he noticed?
“Sunday, everyone is at church.”
“Oh dear Lord,” she murmured. Surely she would burn in hell. Not only had she missed service, but now she was undressing in front of a man? Guilt made bile rise in her throat.
“Here,” he moved forward and spread her dress upon the ground. “Lie down.”
It was a demand. She started to sit.
“The shift,” he said softly, almost as if he felt sorry for her.
“You agreed…”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.
Frantic fear clawed its way into her throat, her emotions so strong, she could no longer sense Leo’s. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“Why? It’s one piece of clothing.” He stepped closer to her, and she resisted the urge to step back. His hands, warm and strong, settled on her shoulders, and he turned her so her back was to him.
Slowly, his fingers trailed down her bare arms and settled around her waist. “What is it you fear?” His breath was warm against her ear, sending bumps over her skin.
What was it she feared? She feared for her reputation. She feared what others thought of her. But mostly, she feared Leo and the emotions he stirred within.
Her shift rose up her legs. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She should stop him. So why didn’t she?
“Do you fear Lady Buckley?” Leo asked. “She isn’t here. She’s no longer a part of your life. You are free, Ella, to do what you will, what you truly want.”
The shift reached her upper thighs, and his fingers brushed against her legs. She took her lower lip between her teeth as her stomach flipped. Her limbs trembled, and although there was a soft breeze, heat pulsed through her body. His heat…hers, mixing together so intense she thought she would catch fire.
“I’m an artist, Ella. I see only natural beauty in the human form.”
She clung to that ridiculous lie when he drew her shift to her waist. He didn’t touch her, but she felt him all the same…warm…strong…tempting.
The material rubbed over her hardened nipples, and she sucked in her breath. Slowly, he pulled the shift over her head, and she heard it drop to the ground with a swish. Her heart hammered against her chest, threatening to explode. What was she doing? She’d allowed the devil to take control, just as Lady Buckley expected her to do all along. But with her own desire mixing with his, she was helpless to stop him.
Frantic, she folded her arms across her chest in one last attempt to keep herself from turning and pressing her mouth to his. Leo’s hands lingered at her waist. Slowly, his fingers inched toward her stomach. With a tug, he untied the string of her bloomers. The material fell, pooling at her feet. His fingers tightened at her waist, his hands burning into her bare skin, branding her. A deep ache pooled in the pit of her belly, then seeped lower…lower, until she wanted to sink back into his form and beg him to ease the tension.
A cool breeze blew down from the heavens, brushing wildflowers against her skin, their stems rough and their petals smooth. Like a deer at the end of a rifle, she stood frozen in place. She felt him step back, and with his movement, he took his anchoring presence. She wavered, floating on waves of confusing emotions, clouding any rational thought.
“You can lie down, on your side,” he said, his voice a soft caress.
She stepped out of her slippers and dropped to her knees, partly from embarrassment but mostly because her weak limbs could no longer hold her weight. Hidden behind a wall of wildflowers, she almost felt safe, if it wasn’t for his attention burning into her back. She took her lower lip between her teeth and lay on her side. Her face felt aflame, as if she had influenza.
“What is so important that you’d obviously do something you don’t want to do?”
She closed her eyes, letting the words sink in, and she admitted to herself that the cottage wasn’t just for Fran. Dare she tell him? Dare she confess her selfishness? She wanted to be free, free of responsibility to everyone but herself. She wanted to have a home, a home that could never be taken away from her.
He was silent, waiting for her response.
“My freedom,” she whispered, thanking God her back was to him so he couldn’t read the expression on her face.
He didn’t respond, but she felt his surprise. Just as quickly as the surprise had entered, he swept it aside, clearing his mind of emotion. Did he not wish to feel? Moments later, she heard the scratch of a paintbrush on canvas, and the sound lulled her into a sense of security. A butterfly, fragile and yellow, floated to a daisy. She focused on the insect and the warmth from the sun in an attempt to forget her nudity and cease the trembling of her body.
“To be a butterfly and float on the wind,” she murmured. She hadn’t realized she said the words aloud until Leo laughed.
“To be snatched from the air and crunched in the beak of a bird,” he added.
She dared a glance over her shoulder. “Can you not see beauty in anything? Must you mock all?”
His face grew serious, and he focused on his canvas. “I see beauty. I couldn’t paint if I didn’t.”
She turned back around and wondered over his statement. She knew few men who saw beauty in life. Most men she’d dealt with in the village near Lady Buckley’s had been rough and crude. Was Leo truly different? She laid her head down on h
er arm and gazed through the flowers, the ocean breeze caressing her bare skin. How many times had she wished to lie in a field and do nothing all day? Of course, she’d always been dressed in her daydream.
“What happened?” Leo demanded.
Ella felt his anger and looked at him over her shoulder. He stalked toward her, and she crossed her arms over her chest, her face immediately flushing. But he was looking lower, at her legs, she realized. She glanced down the length of her thighs to her lower legs and realized what held him fascinated. Her blush deepened and she looked away.
“A fire,” she said. “In the first orphanage I lived in. It was a miracle I survived, or so they say. I barely remember. The wounds weren’t bad; I was fortunate. Three girls perished.”
She could feel him directly behind her. He’d knelt down close…so close his heat caressed her skin. His scent, pine and ocean air, invaded her senses, and heat pooled in the pit of her belly. His hands rested on the back of her calves, and she almost moaned aloud. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up and down her skin over the faded scars. She swallowed hard and shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked softly.
She shook her head, not daring to look at him.
“Did it hurt?”
“Yes, for days and days afterward I cried.” Was that her voice that sounded so breathless?
He rose to his feet. “I can imagine it must have been painful.”
Without another word, he moved back to his easel. He’d touched her, and with that touch she’d felt his worry, his anger, but also his need, hard and pulsing. He wanted her, and that brought a thrill of excitement rushing through her body, heating her core with a fire she couldn’t seem to extinguish. With that knowledge and the sun warming her skin, the flowers in bloom around her naked body, she felt strangely attractive. She’d felt this need before, in animals, mostly during spring. But never to such depths, such extremes, and never directed toward her.
She rested her head on her arm and let her lashes drift down. Around her, the soft buzz of bees lulled her into a dreamlike state, and she could almost forget that Leo stared at her naked backside. Although she wouldn’t dare admit it to anyone, there was nowhere she’d rather be than here…now. She felt strangely at peace. Slowly, her mind went numb and she knew she was falling…falling asleep, but she didn’t care and accepted the clouded feeling that came.
“Ella.” Leo’s voice was a husky whisper. Warmth tickled the side of her face. She swatted at the area, her mind being pulled back to consciousness. Something was wrong, different. Where did that cool breeze come from?
Reality rushed in on waves of heated embarrassment. She gasped, her eyes opening. Dear Lord, she’d fallen asleep, naked no less.
Ella bolted upright. Leo was kneeling beside her, his gaze focused on hers, so close she could see the gold flecks in his eyes. She gasped again and drew her knees to her chest, her arms crossing over her naked body.
A soft smile played upon his lips. “You fell asleep.”
She nodded dumbly. She should dress, but her mind felt muddled and confused, her body languid as if the two weren’t connected. “Did you…did you finish?”
“Not finished, but I got quite a bit done.” He didn’t move, didn’t drop his gaze, but continued to stare into her eyes. Heat poured through her body, pooling in the pit of her belly and producing a deep ache that made her want to shift under his intense scrutiny. He wanted her with a need that made her want to lean forward and press her lips to his.
She swallowed hard. “Promise you’ll show it to no one?”
His smile was slow and sure. “It’s only your backside. I doubt anyone would recognize you.”
Her backside. Heat moved to her face, and she looked away. “Still.”
“Fine then, it will be for my perverse visual pleasure only.” Slowly, he reached out and brushed her hair back behind her shoulder, his fingers skimming her neck. Heat shot through her, tingling her skin. She knew he held back. His desire, his need, pulsed under the surface, waiting…waiting to be freed. Even if she hadn’t noticed the way his hands trembled, she felt the need pulsing on the surface. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.
“Ella,” he said softly. “Open your eyes.”
Her lashes fluttered up. His amber gaze had gone hard, shining no longer with mirth, but with something more intense. She knew what would happen, and God save her, she wanted it…she wanted him. His gaze dropped to her lips, and her breath caught. When he reached out, cupping the side of her face, she didn’t pull away.
Softly, his thumb brushed her lower lip. “Do not be afraid.”
She nodded. He leaned forward. Her hands dropped to her sides and her legs fell to the ground. His chest pressed to hers, and his linen shirt caressed her hardened nipples. When his lips met hers, all unease fled. Slowly, he nibbled, his mouth warm and soft. Her muscles relaxed and his body pushed her back…further…further until she lay upon the ground. He hovered over her for a brief moment and then lowered his body, pressing into her, hard and heavy. She whimpered, partly in fear of the unknown and partly in heady delight. She wanted him to continue, to never cease. Dear God, she wasn’t sure which emotions were his and which were hers. All she knew was that if she didn’t have him, she thought she’d die.
A hardness pressed to her lower belly, and the ache between her legs intensified. She wanted to rub against that solid heat, but was too afraid of the unknown. His lips moved against her own, slowly, driving her mad with delight, with wanting. His warm tongue slipped inside her mouth, and she welcomed the intimate kiss.
Instinct took over. Ella wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. She suddenly found herself in a fog of pure pleasure, and she was helpless to stop the torment that assaulted her body. She was completely and utterly at his mercy. She knew in the back of her mind she should push him away, demand he stop, yet all she could focus on was easing the deep ache growing between her legs.
She knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. The thought terrified and delighted her at the same time. His hand slipped to her hip, his rough fingers trailing up and down the sensitive skin of her leg. He wanted more; she knew it, could feel his desire, demanding. Would she give him more? God save her, she knew she would. His other hand slipped to her collarbone, lower, to caress the side of her breast. Piercing through the desire, she felt his sudden surprise. He pulled away from her, his breathing ragged.
His gaze moved lower to focus on her neck. His knuckles brushed her throat as he picked up the cool, metal pendant. “Where did you say you got this?”
Ella couldn’t draw her legs to her chest; she couldn’t cross her arms over her breasts as instinct demanded, for he was too close for her to move.
“My uncle,” she breathed, frantic to end the conversation so she could dress. “He asked me to keep it safe. Promised he’d come back for it, but he never did.”
“What was his name?”
“Finch.”
His gaze pierced hers, and she felt his anger like a slap. “Do you lie to me, Ella?”
She shook her head, confused at the sudden bite in his voice. “No, never.” His gaze delved into her eyes as if reading her thoughts for the truth. His heat suddenly felt stifling, and she had the urge to bolt. “We should return home before someone comes looking.”
But he didn’t move, merely continued to stare at her. Finally, he nodded and pushed himself to his feet. She didn’t need to worry about her state of undress, for he immediately turned his back to her. Ella snatched her shift from the ground and threw it over her head. As she dressed, she watched him move to his easel and pack his supplies.
He didn’t look at her. What had happened to make him so cold once more? Had she done something wrong? How she wished she could read minds and not just sense feelings. He packed his paints, and still he said not a word. Her legs trembled as she moved toward him and held out his jacket. The mix of their emotions had left her exhausted.
?
??May I see?” she asked.
He took the garment and nodded. Ella stepped around him and focused on the canvas. Her gasp lingered across the field. The painting was intricate; it was beautiful. She looked long and lean, laid out amongst the flowers like some fairy without wings. Her hair glistened in the light…red, golden, and mahogany while her skin glowed porcelain. There was a hint of her profile, a pert nose and full lips, but certainly nothing that would identify her. “But I thought…”
“What?” he asked, pulling his jacket over his broad shoulders. “You thought your portrait would be a slash of angry colors?”
Her face heated.
“I told you,” he said, picking up the canvas, “I can paint in other ways. You really should trust me.” There was something to his words that made her uneasy, as if he were testing her reaction.
She picked up his box of painting supplies, and they started toward the house. “It really is well done, Leo.”
“I know,” he replied.
Ella grinned and shook her head, relieved that he was back to his arrogant self. Taking her hand, he helped her over the fence. His fingers wrapped around hers and brought an unfamiliar sense of safety and warmth. She peeked up at him, wondering if he thought about her the way she thought about him. Then again, what did she feel for him? He was hot one minute, cold the next. But she couldn’t deny how she felt with him. Lady Buckley’s eldest daughter had told her in intimate detail what happened between a husband and wife when they kissed, but she hadn’t told her how it’d feel. So utterly, incredibly amazing.
They started down a trail, sparrows darting from the trees. “Leo,” she asked. “Is that…is that really how I look?”
“What do you mean?”
“The painting.”
His hold on her hand tightened. “Yes, Ella, that is really how you look.”
And she knew he told the truth. A bounce entered her step. She wasn’t nearly as horrible to look at as Lady Buckley had seemed to think. Perhaps she would find someone to settle down with eventually…perhaps she would even have a family. She plucked a leaf from a passing tree and twirled it by its stem. Being married wouldn’t be so wretched. Having someone to share a life with.