Page 67 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
No, he would not risk heaping misery upon any child.
One of the many reasons she loved him.
He may not love her, but he wanted her, and for now, that would be enough.
Eighteen
The others were coming. Theo heard their voices bouncing around the hallway, louder and louder as Cordelia’s hand swept across the paper, her mouth quirked and twisted in concentration.
“Don’t move,” she admonished. “I think I’ve finally found my proper subject.” She sat at a small table with watercolors, her green gown rumpled from their recent endeavors.
He lay on a couch before her. A pink one. Quite small. And he was naked.
“If I don’t put some form of clothing on,” he hissed, and grabbed a nearby pillow—pink, too, and embroidered with the picture of a fluffy cat—to place over his stiff cock, “they’ll all get a good look at me. All of me.”
“Theo,” she said, command hard in her voice. “Drop. That. Pillow.Ineed to get a good look at all of you.”
He groaned but gave in. Nothing for it after she’d let him love her on the very sofa he lay across now. She’d stripped him bare, pushed him to sitting, hiked her skirts, and sat astride him, ridden him until he couldn’t see and she’d clenched in ecstasy around him. He’d give her anything after that. Everything. And everyone would know what they’d been at in three… two…
A knock on the door preceded muffled titters from the other side.
“Er, are you two proper?” Pentshire inquired.
“Go away,” Theo barked.
More chuckling, louder this time.
“I said the challenge of the day was to choose a new location to paint your muse, not to choose the best location to swive her senseless.”
She’d swived him senseless. Was that a proper use of that term? Didn’t matter. She’d obliterated him. “Go away,” Theo repeated.
Cordelia clucked at him. “Be nice.” Louder, she said, “We are on task, my lord. Only I am painting him.” More laughter. “We’ll join the others shortly,” Cordelia called out. “Thank you for checking on us.”
“Us ladies have to watch out for one another,” Miss Mires said.
“I’ll look out for Cordelia,” Theo yelled. “And you, Miss Mires, can look out for Pentshire if you need someone to keep track of.”
More cackling amusement, then the footsteps shuffled away, and Cordelia collapsed in a shaking heap across her paper. He stood and hauled her away from the table and to their pile of clothes. “As you undressed me, it’s only fair you put me to rights.”
She did, tried to between laughs, as he kissed the line of her neck. Damn, but he loved it when she laughed. Loved even more making her do so.
“Do you… do you think,” she said between hiccupping breaths as she twisted his cravat around his neck, “they knew exactly what we were doing?”
“Notexactly.” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, kissed her forehead. “But they have very excellent guesses.”
“How shall I face them?”
“As you always do. With poise and confidence.”
“Heavens,” she sighed, “I’m a mess.”
He took her up a back staircase and to her room, helped her change, distracted her from changing. By the time they returned downstairs, everyone had gathered in the garden for tea. Some couples walked through the knot garden and others sat cozy in the bower, but Pentshire, his mistress, the Castles, the baron, and Mrs. Bexford had grouped themselves together, as usual, in the rose garden, circling a tea cart, hands filled with steaming cups. The sun shattered golden through green leaves, and the rose petals bloomed in a riot of colors around them from the palest, shyest pink to the most brazen blood red.
The rest of the guests had set up easels as well, but as usual, Theo tugged Cordelia toward the small group surrounding Pentshire, the few he trusted to treat her as she should be treated—with respect. Half the group, including Lord Ellsby, had left behind Bradley, affronted Pentshire had taken Cordelia’s side. The party was safer for her now, thank God.
Pentshire, Miss Mires, the Castles, Armquist, and Mrs. Bexford hid grins behind hands and teacups as Theo and Cordelia approached, arm in arm.
“Ah,” Mrs. Castle said, “young love. So passionate.”
