Page 35 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“My lord?” Lily said, mild annoyance threading through her voice.

Darcy glanced at him then and realized he had not moved. Lord Raine regarded Lady Lily with a calm that bordered on indifference, his posture relaxed, as though the invitation held no sway over him.

Lily pouted) and arched with a languid, feline grace. “My lord, I want you to⁠—”

“No, Lily. I am not interested.”

His refusal, delivered without even a trace of the charm he so often employed, stilled Lady Lily at once.

“I think,” she said at last, a note of frustration creeping into her tone as she rose, “that you have seen sufficient for your painting, Miss Red.”

Darcy inclined her head, her voice steadier now. “Yes. I have what I require.”

Lily gave a careless shrug, drawing her peignoir more closely about her shoulders as she moved toward the door. With a final, displeased glance, she quit the room, the door closing behind her with a soft, decisive click.

Silence returned. Darcy remained where she was for a moment, her thoughts disjointed and her senses heightened, before slowly lifting her gaze to find the earl already watching her. Something intent and searching in his expression held her there, making it impossible to look away.

“Why did you refuse?” Darcy asked softly, the question slipping free before she could reconsider it. “Did watching her not stir you?”

“No.”

Darcy stilled. Her gaze, almost of its own accord, dropped. Rebecca’s words returned unbidden: a man’s body would betray desire and could not remain unchanged when he was aroused. Darcy hesitated only a fraction before allowing her eyes to lower further. His trousers remained smooth, betraying no sign of arousal. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and found his unwavering gaze.

A slow smile curved his mouth. “I did not want her. Pleasure offered by a woman I do not desire holds no allure for me.”

Darcy drew in a quiet breath. His reply told her that desire, for him, had become particular rather than indiscriminate. Who do you want? The question hovered upon her tongue, but she forced it back, knowing that to ask would bring her perilously close to an edge she had no business approaching.

“I think I shall take my leave,” she said softly, rising from her seat.

He neither moved nor obstructed her, but regarded her with an intent focus that seemed to see more than she wished to reveal.

“Where do you go when you leave here?” he asked.

Darcy paused, then allowed a faint smile to touch her lips as she gathered her gloves. “How unexpectedly inquisitive of you.”

“Most inconveniently so,” he returned without apology.

She tilted her head slightly. “I go home to my family.”

A subtle yet unmistakable shift crossed his expression. “Are you married?”

The question was simply spoken, yet there was an undercurrent that brushed against her instincts with quiet warning. She ought to lie. The thought came swiftly, sharply. It would be safer to appear uninteresting and beyond the reach of his sensual provocation. For she knew it now, with unsettling clarity, that this man was capable of seducing her, and she was no longer certain she would refuse him.

Aphrodite had already revealed its dangers: it loosened the mind, stirred restless curiosity, and tempted one to forget what ought to matter above all. Darcy met his gaze. “Would you believe me,” she asked lightly, “if I told you I was?”

He stilled. “Yes,” he said after only a breath.

Darcy laughed then, soft and unguarded. “How surprising. I had thought you considered me a hopelessly naïve creature. What married woman could possibly be so innocent?”

One dark brow arched. “Many married women remain wholly unacquainted with their husbands. Some have never seen them unclothed or known more than a perfunctory visit to the marital bed once each week, conducted in near darkness and under the strictest propriety.”

Darcy stared at him. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

“I am not yet married,” she said at last.

His gaze sharpened slightly. “Not yet? Does that mean a gentleman has claimed your attentions?”