Page 77 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
He walked around her easel. His steps were slow and deliberate until he stopped directly behind her sofa. His hands gently rested on the back of it, his thumbs stroking the plush fabric as she desperately wished it was the skin of her neck. He leaned down onto it, the sight of his strong arms, even in his shirt, sent a shiver down her spine.
“I believe you have already captured my essence quite admirably in a certain charcoal sketch I recall discovering. In fact, I seem to recall multiple sketches over the last several weeks,” he said, his voice was a low rumble.
“Perhaps such things exist.”
“But a mere torso, Marion? Surely, my wife, a true artist, could capture the entirety of her muse.”
Marion’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in her ears. Much as she wanted this, hearing the words was adifferent experience entirely. She felt the heat of his body from across the room, the intoxicating scent of him enveloping her. She inhaled the scents of pine, musk, and crisp linen, mingling to form something uniquely Anselm. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the teasing intimacy, letting the full weight of his suggestion settle over her.
“Are you suggesting, dear husband,” she whispered, “that I paint you as you truly are?”
The implication hung in the air, audacious and thrilling.
He chuckled, a rich, deep sound that vibrated through her, making her lean onto her easel to steady herself.
“Precisely, my tempest. Or perhaps, more accurately, like one of your Highlanders. But in the privacy of our chambers, of course. No clothes required. Will that work for you?”
He strode over to her. His green eyes were dark with the desire she had come to crave. She liked the way she looked in his eyes.
“Would that be agreeable to you, madam painter? Surely, I will pay whatever fee you require.”
Marion’s gaze lingered on his full lips, considering his most tempting invitation. A thrill, potent and undeniable, shot through her, igniting a fire in her veins.
“More than agreeable, Yer Grace,” she breathed, her voice husky with anticipation. “A privilege, in fact. My brush awaits and I will waive the requisite fee as repayment.”
“As you wish,” he said as he planted a kiss on her head, and walked out of the studio, leaving her breathless.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Tell me again why we have to go to these bloody things,” Verity sighed as she sipped on a glass of champagne.
“Verity! You cannae let yer brother hear ye speak like that. “ Marion whispered as she threw a playful elbow into her. “Ye are incorrigible; I swear it.”
“What are you two going on about?” Anselm said when he joined them in a corner. “Is this party a bore or what?”
The three laughed as they clinked their glasses, looking around at the stodgy company.
“At least Emmanuel should be here soon,” Verity sighed. “He always livens things up a bit.”
“If one did not know better, they would assume you were interested in him. Be careful sister, I know better, but most do not.”
“Oh, can you stop!” Verity said as she walked off to greet a friend.
Lady Thistlewaite’s evening soiree was, as expected, a glittering but stifling affair. The air was thick with the scent of summer lilies and ambition, the drone of polite conversation a constant hum. Lord Thistlewaite, as ever, was sipping from his flask in the corner and telling jokes inappropriate for, well any situation really.
Marion, now accustomed to the ton’s discerning gaze, navigated the crowded rooms of their grand estate with newfound confidence. While the whispers of her Scottishness followed, they had grown infrequent. More than that, she did not care. Anselm’s subtle presence was a compass, one with which she navigated through any storm.
“Let us keep turning about until we find some suitable company,” he joked as he pulled her closer. “And if we cannot, are you able to feign a headache so we can retire early?”
“Oh, what a splendid idea! I left my supplies ready so we can resume my work.”
“Agreed then. Let us stay another hour and no more. That should be enough to distract the vultures from finding any such fault with us. Although I must say, it is taking everything insideof me not to find a vacant room and take you…right now. You are a vision in that sapphire dress.”
“I ken I am supposed to alternate my wardrobe, but I do so love this gown you selected for Master Jordan’s exhibit. Perhaps because I ken ye picked it for me.”
He gave her an imperceptible squeeze on her full backside as they moved through the throngs with effortless grace. While they conversed with varying guests, he was never far from her side.
She looked out and noted that Verity, too, seemed more at ease. Marion assumed that her recent literary success, albeit anonymously held, provided a glow that outshone any diamond in the room. And there were many competing baubles in that room, strewn around the necks of the women clamoring to be seen.
