Page 67 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
He slipped a large hand inside his jacket pocket, removed a packet tied with string, and placed it in her lap. “You may do the honors.”
He was as close as Burleigh, if not closer, his thigh resting against hers, their hips touching, and yet she didn’t feel crowded on the right side. She couldn’t say the same for her left. Was it because she’d been incredibly intimate with the man, because of what they’d shared? Or was it simply his way to be completely comfortable against the female form? Probably the latter. She didn’t want to consider how many ladies he might have been this close to.
Pulling the ends of the bow, she released the string from the wrapper and set it on the low table before her. Then she slowly peeled back the paper. She was greeted with the sight of the chimpanzees. Soul mates, she’d bet her life on it. The pyramids were next, dwarfing the humans who stood around them. She was familiar with the structures, had seen other pictures, had always wanted to visit them. No longer on the husband hunt, she was free to go wherever she wanted. She could go touch them in person if she so desired. The next picture revealed some sort of stone shrine barely visible through the foliage. She had no idea what it might be, and yet it seemed so lonely, as though waiting to be of use again.
Moving that picture aside, she was greeted by a man with long white hair and what appeared to be white paint in various designs on his dark, wrinkled face. Grinning, he held in his hand a dainty teacup that seemed remarkably out of place.
“That’s him,” Ashebury said.
“He looks so happy.”
“He bargained me out of my teacup,” he said grumpily.
She looked at him. He was close, so very close, his shoulder nearly touching hers. “What did you get?”
“Two of his tribesmen to escort us farther into the jungle.”
“What did they get?”
“The privilege of accompanying us, I suppose. They have no need for money. They’re self-sufficient.”
“They’re savages,” Burleigh said.
“What exactly is a savage, Burleigh? I’ve met quite a few within England’s borders.”
“You know what I mean. They’re not civilized.”
“Not like you and I, perhaps. They can’t quote Shakespeare, but I assure you that they hardly qualify as savage. As far as we could tell they live a peaceful existence. Welcomed us.” He winked at Minerva. “Drank tea with us. Doesn’t get much more civilized than that.”
Moving that photograph aside, she caught her breath at the sight of a woman dressed in her native clothing, what little there was of it. But it wasn’t the bared breasts that held her attention. It was the woman’s face: so proud, with such a noble bearing. No embarrassment, no shame. How could anyone be offended by this remarkable image? It was simply ... life. And Ashe had managed to capture the essence and beauty of it.
He was right. The human form in all its natural wonder was exquisite.
Although Burleigh apparently didn’t agree. He was making gasping sounds as though the tea he’d swallowed had taken a wrong turn. Snatching the photo from her fingers, he went to his feet. “You can’t show photographs like this to a lady!” It was a wonder that his indignation didn’t cause the chandelier above his head to shake.
“Why ever not?” Minerva asked.
“Madam, the duke is showing your daughter vulgar photographs.”
Her mother looked up, her brow pinched tightly.
“It’s a native woman, Mother. In her natural habitat.”
“She’s not wearing clothes,” Burleigh said.
“Not garments as we wear,” Ashbury said, “but I assure you that to her people, she was perfectly attired.”
With grace and dignity, her mother rose and walked toward them. Ashebury shoved himself to his feet. Her mother held her hand out to Burleigh. He hesitated.
“Lord Burleigh.” She snapped her fingers.
“It is not appropriate, madam.”
“I shall determine what is appropriate and what is not.”
He handed it to her.
Minerva had to respect her mother’s aplomb. She might as well have been looking at a blank piece of paper for all the expression that crossed her face. “If the woman is not accustomed to wearing clothes, I don’t see how we can call her vulgar for honoring her traditions.”
