Nothing.
She sighed, accidentally blowing out her candle and leaving her in complete darkness.
She was searching her pockets for a match when a flickering light around the edge of a door at the far side of the room caught her attention. She took a step forward, then another. Through a small crack in the door, she spotted the frame of a painting.
Triumph rushed through her.
She tiptoed across the plush carpeting until she reached the door. Inch by inch, she pulled it open, each slight movement emitting a low creak. She squeezed through, closing the door behind her as softly as possible. Inside, paintings surroundedher in a world of color. One after another, like an entire museum shoved into a closet.
“Well, this is a surprise.”
Her head swiveled around.
Sitting on a low stool in the corner of the room, holding something long and thin in his hand, was Leo. His cheeks unshaven, his golden hair loose around his shoulders, he looked like his namesake, the king of the jungle, the top of the food chain.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She licked her dry lips. What could she tell him that he would believe?
He shook his head. “I should have expected this. You were searching for the Ravenmore. Well, as you can see, it is not here. These are all mine.” He turned away from her, and the words that followed were softer, as if he were unsure of her reaction. “What do you think?”
She reached out and touched the frame of the nearest painting, admiring the bold colors and confident strokes. It was a scene of a forest with a woman lying on the grass in a clearing, wearing a diaphanous gown. Her cheeks heated as she could make out the nipples of the woman in the grass.
Most certainly not a Ravenmore.
She checked another, and with mounting embarrassment, found it was as explicit as the last. Three women were twined together on a bedspread surrounded by cherubs, and what the women were doing to each other…
“T-The colors are lovely,” she said.
Leo’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Thank you.”
That was the precise moment she realized he was not wearing a robe, or any kind of proper garment, but rather a kind of gray smock splattered with thin streaks of color—and nothingelse. Her eyes flitted down over his torso to his bare legs and then back to his face.
He turned around and kneeled over, revealing the firm lines of his back, tapering down to narrow hips and a firm behind. He placed the lids on the various pots of paint on the floor.
“So,” she said, keeping her eyes firmly above Leo’s waist. Her traitorous mind urged her to drift lower, but she refused. “You paint in the nude?”
Leo laughed. “I prefer the freedom. Clothing is too restrictive. The paint comes off skin easily enough.”
“Oh,” she said. That seemed reasonable.
He grabbed a handful of sand from a bucket and rubbed his hands together. Then he turned around, reached over his head, and pulled off his apron, throwing it to the side.
Saffron’s gaze traveled down his stomach, covered in a fine dusting of blond hair, to the darker curls that surrounded the jutting erection staring up at her. She’d never seen a naked man in the flesh.
He desires me.
A powerful ache shot through her, and all thought of her mission faded.
“You understand that I will not marry you,” he said. “I… I simply cannot.”
It should have mattered, but it didn’t. She wouldn’t deny herself any part of him he’d offer. “I know.”
“Then touch me, Saffron,” he growled.
The use of her name made her mouth dry. Her fingers sought the small buds of his nipples and he groaned.
Strong arms enclosed around her shoulders, and his lips crushed against her own. His tongue thrust forward, and she met it with her own, tangling together until she gasped away, breathing hard.
