Page 32 of Real Earls Break the Rules

Had a servant accidently lit the coal in the brazier on this pleasant night? Or was something else causing the rush of heat across her skin?

She continued to draw, her thoughts turning to the colors she would choose for his complexion and the enigmatic shades of green in his eyes. She studied the depths of his gaze, and her mind struggled to continue.

“I was thinking of my tour of the estate,” she blurted out. “The vastness of Rosehill astounds me and the number of tenants. How does it sustain itself?”

“I need the tenants as much as they need me. The rents from the farmland help.”

“I cannot fathom how much is needed to support an estate of this size,” she said.

His expression tightened. For an instant, gone was the pleasant, relaxed gentleman she had spent the evening with and in its place was a troubled earl. She didn’t know what had caused the change, but the uneasy flash in his eyes was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and she wondered if it was a trick of the candlelight.

Instinct told her it wasn’t.

So why was he troubled?

And why should she care? her inner voice warned.

He had hired her to paint his portrait and copy a landscape, not heal the depths of his soul.

“I’m almost finished for the night,” she said.

“So quickly?”

“I’ll start with oils tomorrow evening. You need not fear, my lord. Your portrait will be completed before the end of the house party. I’ve already started the Cuyp copy,” she said, motioning to the canvas in the corner of the study.

The corners of his lips curled into a grin. “I’m not worried. I have faith in you.”

She was aware of him watching her pack her art supplies in the wood box. Rushing to complete her task, she dropped a piece of charcoal on the Oriental carpet. It bounced once and came to rest beside his booted foot.

She knelt to retrieve it, but he was there first and their heads collided.

“Oh!” she cried out, rubbing her temple.

Brandon touched his head and met her gaze before they simultaneously burst out laughing. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” He knelt beside her and was so close she had to tip her head to look up at him.

The air crackled with tension, like lightning before a summer storm.

Oh my.

His laughter ceased and his expression shifted. Her heartbeat slowed, and she felt a sudden heightened awareness of him. He reached out to trace a finger across her bottom lip. Her breath caught.

His gaze was intense. “I have a confession to make. I didn’t like the way Lord Emmett was looking at you at dinner.”

Truly? The notion that he was jealous should have her scrambling to her feet and running out the door. Instead, she was incapable of moving her limbs. “I think he looks at all the ladies he meets that way.”

Brandon shook his head. “I don’t think so. It was because of you. Although I didn’t like it, I couldn’t blame him for it, either. There’s something about you, Amelia. Something irresistible. Like fine art that draws the eye and makes it impossible for a man to tear his gaze away.”

She sucked in a breath at his words, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

“I swore not to kiss you, but I’m going to break that promise if you don’t stop me.” His voice was deep and hoarse.

Heady anticipation coursed through her veins. Just like the first time, she was powerless to protest or move. Her knees grew weak at the desire written in his eyes. Every fiber in her being wanted to feel his lips on hers. Now that she knew what pleasure could be found in just one kiss, she was insatiable for more.

She longed to wrap her arms around him, stroke the strong tendons of his neck, and touch the softness of his hair that curled at his collar. She wanted to press her body to his, feel his heat, and inhale the scent of his shaving soap.

She wanted him to kiss her.