Page 16 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

Awareness washed through Darcy so swiftly it felt like heat and vertigo together. And then she understood why her heart thrummed with such wild insistence, why every inch of her skin seemed suddenly sensitized, and why drawing a single steady breath had become almost impossible.

Oh God.

The Earl of Raine.

CHAPTER 7

Darcy’s heart raced far too quickly. The vibrant, decadent room suddenly seemed very small. She made no sound, only stared. Rebecca’s soft laugh lingered in the doorway like perfume, but Darcy scarcely heard it. The sight before her had cut the breath from her lungs.

The earl remained lounged with decadent ease, as if sensuality were an art he had perfected. The nearly bare courtesan still knelt before him, one hand resting lightly upon his thigh.

Of all men to find in such a place.

Rebecca’s voice drew a silken line between them. “Lord Raine, this is Red.”

He turned his head and regarded Darcy through heavy-lidded interest. “Red,” he drawled, the word lazy on his tongue. “Is this your artist, Rebecca?”

“I am,” Darcy said in a low tone before the madam could answer. If Madam Rebecca noticed the subtle change in her voice, she gave no indication that she had.

“She looks like a frightened little rabbit on the verge of bolting or swooning. Why did you bring this chit here, Rebecca?”

“The sample she sent showed immense talent,” Rebecca replied. At her slight gesture, the courtesan rose from her knees, drew a silk wrapper about her shoulders, and crossed to stand beside the madam.

A low, derisive scoff escaped the earl. “You must select someone else, Rebecca. This chit will not do.”

Darcy lifted her chin. “I am the artist Madam Rebecca wants, and I am very good at what I do, my lord.”

His gaze gleamed. “Oh? And you are aware of everything your work will entail?”

“I am not afraid of seeing naked men and women,” she said, steady enough to surprise herself. “If that is your concern, Lord Raine.”

Darcy’s heart pounded like a drum in her ears. She had the distinct sense that securing this commission hinged upon convincing the earl of her competence. Without his approval, she doubted Madam Rebecca would offer her the post at all. Was he more than merely a patron of Aphrodite?

The earl’s mouth curved, and his dark blue eyes brightened with a provocative light. “Is that all you think you are going to see, Red? Naked men and women?”

His gaze traveled slowly, skimming the line of her throat, the swell of her breasts, the narrow of her waist, the curve of her hips, as if a gloved fingertip traced each secret place. Heat unfurled low in Darcy’s belly, tight as a pulled ribbon, and she was fiercely grateful for the mask that hid her flush and the quick parting of her lips.

The earl rose with languid, wicked grace. “You will see cocks sucked, women’s arses left blushing beneath a practiced hand, pussies licked until their owners tremble, and bodies writhing from pleasures they have been made to beg for. And, Red, that is merely the beginning of the debauchery.”

Darcy’s tongue felt too large for her mouth. She said nothing, fearing it would reveal her ignorance.

He tipped his head. “Never say you do not even know what a cock is.” The gleam in the earl’s eyes sharpened. “How intriguing. An innocent in a den of depravity. My boredom is lifted.”

Rebecca gave a soft, arch purr of approval at the spark leaping between them.

Darcy kept her spine straight. “My task is to see and to render with accuracy and grace. I am not here to be your amusement and lift your boredom.”

“You are already my amusement,” he said, his mouth curving with humor at his own verdict. “But no matter. Let us see what your accuracy and grace can endure.”

He moved with a predator’s unhurried grace and set his hands to the linen at his throat. The cravat slid free. He dropped it onto the chaise and unbuttoned his shirt. Heat rushed up Darcy’s neck into her face before she could prevent it. He laughed softly, and the sound sent a peculiar shiver down her spine.

“There is the blush I expected,” he murmured as he opened his shirt. “How very interesting.”

The earl’s chest was a study in strength and proportion, the play of light over muscle something an artist might chase through a dozen sketches. The warmth that began in Darcy’s cheeks spread treacherously through her to places that had no business waking.

He watched her watch him, then set his fingers to the fall of his trousers. “Shall we be thorough?” he murmured, opening the flap.

Darcy spun around so quickly her gown whispered. The room seemed to tilt again. She stared at the door panel and willed her breath to behave. Lord Raine laughed, and the chill of mockery in it struck her square in the chest, sharp and unexpected.