Page 33 of Real Earls Break the Rules

She rested her palm on his chest, but rather than push him away she kneaded the solid muscle beneath his shirt.

“Amelia,” he groaned.

She tilted her face to his. It was all the invitation he needed. He lowered his head, and their breath mingled before his mouth brushed across hers. The touch of his lips was a delicious sensation, soft and seductive. His tongue traced her full bottom lip before sucking on the soft flesh as if he were taking a ripe cherry into his mouth. Desire leaped between them.

His lips recaptured hers, more demanding this time. With a murmur of pleasure, her fingers slid up his back, her hands exploring the warmth of his solid flesh through his shirt as she yielded to his soul-drenching kiss. He leisurely explored the recesses of her mouth, and her own tongue boldly met his and learned the feel and taste of him.

Tearing his mouth from hers, his lips blazed a wicked path of heat to the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat, then lowered to the swell of her breasts above her bodice. Tremors ran down her spine, and her nipples tightened beneath her gown. She remembered the shocking surge of pleasure when his thumb had grazed her tender flesh, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like without the barrier of clothing. Deep spirals of need formed inside her.

She moaned and gripped his hair and pressed her breasts against his chest.

With a harsh groan, he raised his head and pulled back. “I regret that I do not possess artistic talent.”

She blinked, slow to come to her senses. Art. He wanted to talk of art while she was combusting in his arms. “Why?”

He rubbed a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. “Because I would find great pleasure in drawing you.”

She stared up at him like an infatuated girl. They were still on their knees facing each other, the piece of charcoal forgotten between them. He stood and offered her his hand. She slid her hand inside his, and he helped her to her feet. She smoothed her skirts, suddenly embarrassed by her behavior. What if he hadn’t stopped kissing her?

“I’ll expect you tomorrow night, then?” he said.

This was getting dangerous. She knew she could be impulsive. Sinful, even. Eliza had always been the levelheaded sister, not Amelia. Agreeing to paint Lord Vale’s portrait was reckless and dangerous. She thought art instructions were worth the risk, but now she wasn’t so certain.

Everything would be lost if she fell in love with her model.

Chapter Eleven

Amelia pulled back her bow and focused on the straw target across the lawn. “I see two bull’s-eyes.”

“It helps if you close one eye,” Caroline said at her side.

Amelia obeyed and like magic the two red spots combined into one target. The muscles in her arm strained from pulling back the bow.

“Now let the arrow fly,” Sara instructed from where she stood on Amelia’s other side.

Whack. The arrow hit the straw target just below the bull’s-eye.

Caroline clapped. “Good! You’re already better at archery than I am.”

Amelia beamed. Sara and Caroline had invited her along with them this morning to try her hand at archery. Striking the straw target was much harder than it looked. It was also invigorating, and she was enjoying the companionship of the ladies as well as the activity.

“I would envision someone’s face on the target. Someone I don’t like.”

The three women turned toward the feminine voice. Lady Minerva sat on a blanket spread out beneath the shade of a large tree watching them. For a while, Amelia had forgotten she was present.

“It’s just for fun,” Sara said.

“Mother says we should consider all our competition seriously,” Minerva said.

The duchess was at least twenty years younger than the duke, and from what Amelia had seen, she was ambitious. Minerva also had an annoying tendency to prattle on and on about her mother’s advice and admonishments.

“By competition do you mean affairs of the heart?” Sara asked.

Minerva nodded curtly. “Mother says a potential marriage match is fierce competition.”

“I prefer to marry for love,” Sara said.

Amelia lowered her bow. “My sister, Eliza, married Huntingdon for love.” She witnessed their love match every day. Eliza doted on the earl, and he was clearly infatuated with his wife.