Page 41 of The Wayward Duke
He took the items and sprawled on the divan, angling his body towards the light. The universe narrowed to this room, its familiar smells and gentle susurrus of Caroline’s movements. Julian felt some of the coiled tension leach from his frame.
“Just relax and work out your code while I get the texture correct,” Caroline said. She retrieved her palette and selected a fresh brush. “You know I prefer you unstudied. Natural.”
“What man could possibly relax with you looking at him like that?”
She saw too much, stripped him down to sinew and bone. Julian had forgotten how vulnerable she could make him feel with only a look.
How she could flay him wide open and expose the most hidden parts of himself, as dangerous as any blade.
“Like what?”
As if I’m the only solace in a world determined to grind us into dust. As if I’m the only source of air in a room starved of oxygen.
Julian bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. “As if you’re deciding precisely how you’d like to debauch me.”
Safer to jest than speak truths that could cut to the quick. He had learned that lesson long ago where she was concerned. Levity was armour. The right words from her lips could slice him wide open, expose all the naked wanting beneath.
“Stop trying to distract me, duke.”
“Far be it from me to interfere in the creation of great art,” Julian replied.
The gentle sound of brushes sweeping over canvas filled the space again – an oddly soothing rhythm, one familiar from their youth. A familiarity he had thought lost forever amid the ruins of their marriage. Yet now here they were, tentative travellers picking their way across the rubble towards each other once more.
Julian hardly dared breathe for fear of destroying this fragile truce. But Caroline, bold and skirmishing as ever, seemed determined to provoke him.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” she chided.
With effort, Julian schooled his features to impassivity. “Apologies.”
“You’ve always been so skilled at cryptography. What has you so distracted?”
“You.” The admittance fell softly into the quiet between them. “I should think it obvious that I find it arousing when you make art.”
Caroline paused, attention flickering over his blatant arousal. “Would you prefer I avert my eyes?”
Julian smiled slightly. “When have I ever given you the impression I want you to stop looking?”
The weighted silence returned as Julian forced his focus to the cryptogram’s strange lettering. The temptation to provoke her further pulled at him, restless and insistent. Let her feel his nearness as acutely as he felt hers.
With care, Julian shifted on the cushions again, stretching his arms high overhead before settling back against the velvet. The move coaxed his muscles into longer lines, an enticement designed to draw her eye. As intended, Caroline’s gaze dipped along the nude length of his body before skittering away. That subtle surrender unfurled vicious satisfaction through his veins.
He couldn’t help but want to remind her. Eight years, and he’d been with no other woman. Julian only wanted this one.
“You know I would pose more intimately if you asked.” He wrapped a hand around his cock. “For the sake of artistic accuracy.”
Caroline’s hand stilled, breath audibly snagging in her throat. “Mr Henry Morgan will already have to keep this particular painting for himself even without you doing that,” she said. “I can’t bring myself to share your beautiful physique with anyone but myself.”
Only iron control kept Julian’s lips from curving. “Do enlighten me on the precise attributes that make my physique ideal.”
“You’re quite tall. Long of limb. Your musculature is well defined but not overly bulky.” She bit her lip. “The candlelight loves you.”
“Go on,” he encouraged. “I’m finding this assessment most educational.”
“The angles of your facial structure are exquisite.” She paused. “Also, you have a finely shaped backside.”
“And my cock, duchess?” Julian gave himself a slow stroke. He wanted her hungry for him. “You’ve examined every inch of my anatomy. I’m certain you have notes.”
“Many.” Caroline’s voice was a ragged whisper. “But as much as I enjoy your devotion to sensual art, that cryptogram requires your focus.” She returned her attention to the painting.
