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Theodosia didn’t answer, only went to the stool and sat atop it, propping the sketchpad on the easel. “I’m going to do a drawing first. Using charcoal.” She lifted the charcoal up in her hand to show him, using what he supposed she likened to an artist’s voice. “Once that is finished, I might sketch it out on the canvas and then paint. Maybe. Or I’ll use another sketch.” The spectacles slipped down her nose again. If Ambrose didn’t know better, he’d think she was leering at him.
Christ.“What about Theodosia’s Line of Demarcation?” His voice was rough. “Andyourbloody clothes?” The entire lower half of his body grew taut with longing. The door to the studio was still open, though he doubted anyone would dare come up the stairs.
“I think you should recline. On your stomach.”
“These breeches are terribly unforgiving, Theodosia. I should mention that.” In fact, the leather had become painfully constricting.
“I’ve got my spectacles on.” Her hand started to move across the pad. “I can seeeverythingquite clearly.” Theodosia shot him a look that was both lascivious and innocent at the same time. It was a potent combination, one that made Ambrose ravenous for her.
When he’d concocted his surprise for Theodosia, he’d thought the tour of her studio might end with her acceptance of his apology. They would dine together; the new cook was making fish in dill butter sauceandgingerbread. Then he meant to drag her upstairs and seduce her. The new bed and mattress she’d ordered had arrived this morning. Or perhaps they’d enjoy each other in a bath.Thatsurprise was waiting in their room. A tub big enough for two.
God.The feel of her breasts with soap sliding over the nipples.
He lay down on his stomach with one hand above his head, much the same way he slept, and heard her feminine grunt of approval.
Hair fell over his eyes, obscuring his view of Theodosia who had started to hum while the charcoal flew across the paper. Her brow wrinkled delicately, pausing every so often to look at him, then immediately the sound of the charcoal against the paper would fill the air.
Ambrose, on the other hand, tried to stay still despite hismadlythrobbing cock.
Theodosia liked to tap her foot while she sketched, along with the humming. The tune was bawdy. Incredibly improper. There was no telling who had taught it to her. A strand of hair the color of burnished walnut fell over her spectacles, and she pushed it away, brushing her nose with an edge of the charcoal. Her eyes crossed as she looked at the smudge, nose wrinkling in consternation as she wiped at it. Which only produced another smudge.
Ambrose couldn’t look away.
I’m in love with her.
The feeling came to him softly, not with a loud roar demanding his attention, but quietly slipping into the confines of his heart, whispering that one most important truth. He’d told himself wanting Theodosia was only lust. That claiming her was about justice for himself and punishing Leo Murphy. Saving his sister. Greenbriar. Even bloody Uncle Erasmus.
But it had never really been about any of that.
He rolled over. It was impossible for her not to notice hisadmirationof her talents.
Theodosia paused, her hand hovering above the paper. “You moved. Why are you moving?” Her eyes immediately dropped to the hard ridge pushing against the leather, widening in surprise as if she’d forgotten all about it.
His cock haddefinitelynot forgotten about her.
Ambrose sat up and proceeded to take off his boots, tossing them across the floor where they fell with two loud thuds. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get his breeches off without injuring himself.
Her hand fell back from the paper, the charcoal dangling from between her fingers. “There is quite a bit of detail work involved when sketching or painting a person,” she whispered. “All the lovely lines of one’s form. Muscle and bone. I should probably come closer lest I miss something.”
Bold. Brazen. Completely unaware of her appeal. How the very sight of her struck him dumb with the most unbearable longing and probably always would.
“Finally,” Ambrose hooked his thumb in the top of his breeches, “we agree on something.”
* * *
Haven cametoward her on bare feet, completely naked. His desire for her would have been blatant even without her spectacles on. He didn’t make any move to touch her, but the air in the studio grew thick, heavy with anticipation.
“Will you kiss me, Theodosia?” The soft words came close to her ear as Haven circled her with agonizing slowness, his breath buffeting against her neck.
The charcoal dropped from her fingers, rolling away beneath her skirts. Her knees wobbled, desire making her unsteady as she took in the large, naked male who so obviously wanted her. Theo’s nipples pulsed against her bodice, hard and sensitive, begging for only a brush of his finger.
A hand skimmed down her hip, the barest pressure against her skirts as he moved behind her.
“Such a lovely neck.” He inhaled at the base. “Lemons.”
A sharp tingle shot down her spine, wrapping tightly around her waist, the tendrils sinking between her thighs to produce a dull, insistent ache.
Haven’s hand lowered, his palm barely grazing the stomach of her dress before brushing with a featherlight caress further below.
