Page 77 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
With three long strides, he was standing before her, the crook of his finger tilting up her chin. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”
“Why would you be?”
He shook his head slightly. “How can you not understand how much I adore you? You’re a combination of boldness and timidity that I find irresistible. Not to mention the passion that flares between us.”
“Yet you haven’t kissed me since you arrived.”
“Opportunity has been lacking. I would kiss you now except that I suspect your brother is in an upstairs window watching us through a spyglass.”
She smiled. “He does have a telescope.”
“Make no mistake, Minerva, I spend a great deal of time thinking about kissing you, doing other things as well.”
His eyes darkened with promise, and her stomach fairly dropped to the ground. He took her hand, cupped his other hand against her waist. “I need you here.”
He guided her to a spot just shy of the bridge. “I want you to sit with your legs curled against your hips.”
“I should get a blanket.”
“No, you’re a woman who doesn’t care one whit about grass stains on her skirt.” Providing her with support, he lowered her to the ground. He had no qualms about touching her, moving an arm here, a hand there, shifting her leg so the skirts flowed just so. She was enthralled watching his concentration. He was entirely focused on the task at hand, lost in the moment of creating something that meant so very much to him. She did hope that he wouldn’t be disappointed with the results.
He cradled her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. “Now don’t move,” he ordered.
Then he covered her mouth with a kiss that was both sweet and profound, that in spite of its quickness managed to elicit pleasure in every corner of her being. When he drew back, mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Be a good girl and I’ll have another one of those for you when we’re done.”
“Thought you were worried about my brother watching.”
“From this angle, he can’t discern the details of what I’m doing.” He sobered. “You may have to be still for a while, though. I want the sun just so.”
“I’ll pretend I’m in church.”
He skimmed his thumb over the round curve of her cheek. “I’d tell you that I think you’re exquisite, but I don’t think you’d believe me.”
She stared at him.
“There,” he said, with a grin. “Keep your lips relaxed and parted just like that.”
And then he was gone.
KNEELING—Ashe cared not one whit about grass stains on his trousers—he looked through the lens of the camera. Because of the angle he’d wanted, he’d used a short tripod. He believed photos could be so much more than people standing stiffly, staring into the camera. Photography was in its infancy, its potential yet to be explored fully. But he had no doubt that it was art, and the image before him only reinforced that belief.
Minerva wore an elegant yet simple wide-brimmed hat and a pale yellow gown with voluminous skirts. Her burnished hair and brows, deep brown eyes, and strawberry red lips stood out in stark contrast. She was slightly to the right of the bridge, so it and the pond behind her served as background. But the focus, the key element of the piece, was her. The morning shadows, the filtering sunlight were almost exactly where he needed them for maximum effect.
He loved this moment, when he was in absolute control, when he decided the outcome of his efforts. If only numbers came as naturally, when he looked at her he wouldn’t have to see a dowry. With her acumen with figures, he knew that she could help him manage his estates, that she could help ensure he had a magnificent legacy to pass on. But that would require revealing the mess he was in presently—she would neither understand nor appreciate his predicament. With her aversion to fortune hunters, how could she view him as anything else?
“We’re almost there,” he called out.
She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge him. Her control, her discipline amazed him.
The sun grew bolder, the shadows retreated only slightly. He captured the moment.
He stood, walked over to her, and extended his hand. She looked up at him.
“It’s finished?”
“It is.”
“That was relatively painless,” she said, placing her hand in his.
