Page 25 of The Art of Sinning
“But it’s a fishwife’s pose,” Edwin complained, “with her hands on her hips like that. It’s not the least bit feminine.”
“It’s the most feminine pose in the world. How often do you see a man stand like that?” Mr. Keane said. “It conveys strength of purpose.”
“Yes, if the woman is an Amazon,” Edwin snapped.
“I’m perfectly happy to be painted as an Amazon,” Yvette got out through clenched teeth as she tried to maintain her pose. Amazons didn’t let men make fools of them.
Mr. Keane smiled darkly at her. “Not an Amazon, my lady. Juno herself. You’re a goddess of the first order. Amazons are soldiers in skirts, but goddesses can be both soft and fierce. That’s what makes them goddesses.”
Something shifted inside her chest. No man had ever called her a goddess. Certainly no man had ever captured the strange dichotomy of her character that so put off respectable gentlemen.
And though she tried to tell herself it was just Mr. Keane’s roguery at work, she couldn’t deny the heat in his eyes as he spoke. It sent an answering shiver of need down her spine.
Thank heaven Edwin couldn’t see how Mr. Keane was looking at her. Though unfortunately her brother could probably seeherreaction to it.
She tried to figure out what he was thinking, but Edwin was a master at hiding his feelings. Much better at it than she. He merely glanced from her to Mr. Keane with an unreadable gaze.
“You see?” Mr. Keane showed Edwin the sketch. “What do you think?”
Edwin’s face softened slightly. “You’re right,” he said, a hint of awe in his voice. “She’s magnificent.”
“Much better than merely pretty,” Mr. Keane said as he returned to sketching. “You’re clearly a man of taste after all, Blakeborough.”
A knot formed in her stomach. She wasn’t quite ready to give up looking pretty. “Letmesee.”
“In a moment.” Mr. Keane made a few more marks on his sketch pad, then rose to approach her. He paused just short of where she stood. “Can you look at this without changing your expression?” She lifted an eyebrow, and he chuckled. “Of course you can’t. I know that just from spending half a day with you.”
“Try me,” she muttered.
“It doesn’t matter. The light isn’t that good anyway, and I’ve got enough of a drawing to work with. So memorize your position, and tomorrow we’ll set you in the music room as we discussed. Then I’ll start blocking out the portrait. Assuming you still approve of your pose in the sketch. Do you?”
The fact that he remembered her demand to choose the pose warmed her. “It depends. Let me see how it looks.”
He turned the sketchbook toward her. It gave only the merest impression of her shape, with more detail about the face. But in a few strokes he’d managed to capture her fierce mood while somehow conveying the vulnerability beneath it.
And he hadn’t made her pretty. He’d made her beautiful.
“All right?” he murmured, a gentleness in his tone.
“Yes.” She was still trying to take in how he’d done it when he lifted the edge of the paper to reveal words written on the sheet beneath.
Will you meet me in the schoolroom at midnight to begin the other? If so, point to something on the sketch.
With her heart pounding, she touched her finger to the image of her dinner gown. “Shall I wear this tomorrow, too?” She hoped her voice didn’t shake as badly as her finger.
“Whatever you wish to wear is fine.”
The rasped words made her skin tingle. He stared at her with a look so pregnant with carnal possibilities that it sent her blood rushing feverishly through her veins.Take care.You went down this road before, and it only led to heartache. He’s a rogue. He’s a rogue. He’s a rogue.
A pity that her body was deaf to her warning. Her body yearned to find out exactly how much of a rogue he was. What he might say to her in private, if he might kiss her ... how he might touch her.
She scowled. Her body had best learn to listen. Because she didn’t intend to make a fool of herself ever again.
And she certainly refused to end up used and discarded like one of Samuel’s women.
Six
Jeremy arrived in the schoolroom an hour before the appointed time. He had to set his scene, arrange the tools of his trade... prepare himself for work with a woman who intoxicated him more with every passing moment.
