Page 63 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"About two months ago." He moved to sit beside her on the settee, careful not to disturb the sleeping puppy. "Do you remember that afternoon when Lord Ashworth was droning on about his new collection of Italian masters?"

"The afternoon I thought you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open?" A smile tugged at her lips.

"I wasn't sleeping," he admitted. "I was watching how the light played across your face during his tedious lecture. The way it caught in your hair, the subtle changes in your expression as you valiantly attempted to look interested..." He shook his head, smiling at the memory. "I couldn't stop thinking about how I wished I could capture that moment. So I... well, I hired an instructor. In secret."

Elizabeth's free hand found his, her fingers intertwining with his larger ones. "Cecil...why didn't you tell me?"

He brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I wanted to wait until I had something worth showing you. Though I'm beginning to think that may take considerably longer than anticipated. Art, it seems, requires rather more patience than I'm accustomed to exercising."

"Will you show me?" she asked softly. "What you've done so far?"

Cecil hesitated, an unusual sight that made Elizabeth's heart flutter. This powerful man who commanded respect in every room he entered, who could reduce seasoned businessmen to stammering with a single raised eyebrow, was nervous about showing her his drawings.

"They're quite awful," he warned, but rose anyway, carefully extracting his hand from hers. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"I would never," she assured him, though her eyes sparkled with affection at his uncharacteristic uncertainty.

Percy stirred in her lap as Cecil crossed to his study, letting out a tiny yawn that made Elizabeth's heart melt all over again. By the time her husband returned, the puppy had resettled, nose tucked under his paw.

Cecil held a leather portfolio close to his chest, his knuckles white against the dark material. "Perhaps this isn't the best time?—"

"Cecil." Elizabeth's voice was gentle but firm. "Come here."

He moved back to her side as if drawn by an invisible thread, sinking down beside her on the settee. With careful movements, he opened the portfolio and withdrew several sheets of paper.

"They're just sketches," he said quickly. "Rough attempts, really. Nothing worth?—"

His words died as Elizabeth reached for the first drawing. It was her, caught in profile, her face turned toward a window they both recognized from their morning room. The lines were perhaps not as polished as a master's might be, but there was something captivating about the way he'd captured her expression—thoughtful, dreaming, with just a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

"Cecil," she breathed. "This is..."

"Terrible, I know." He reached to take it back, but she held it out of his reach.

"Beautiful," she corrected firmly. "You've captured... I can't explain it, but looking at this, I remember exactly what I was thinking that morning."

His eyes searched her face. "You do?"

"Mmhmm." She smiled softly. "I was thinking about you, actually. About how you'd looked at breakfast, all rumpled andcross because your favorite tea blend had run out. And how even then, even at your most irritable, all I wanted was to kiss that frown right off your face."

The heat that flared in Cecil's eyes made her breath catch. "Did you now?" His voice had dropped to that low, velvet tone that never failed to make her shiver. "And here I thought you were contemplating something far more profound."

Elizabeth carefully set the drawings aside, mindful of the sleeping puppy in her lap. "I think," she said softly, "that you underestimate your talents, my lord. Both artistic and...otherwise."

"Do I?" Cecil's voice remained low, intimate, as he reached out to brush a stray curl from her cheek. "Perhaps you should enlighten me about these... other talents you speak of."

"Gladly." She turned her face into his touch, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Though I believe a demonstration might be more effective than mere words."

Percy chose that moment to wake, stretching and yawning before hopping down from Elizabeth's lap to explore his new surroundings once more. Cecil watched the puppy pad away, then turned back to his wife with darkened eyes.

"I believe," he murmured, sliding closer, "that you were about to demonstrate something?"

Elizabeth's breath caught at the heat in his gaze. Even after months of marriage, he could still make her heart race with just a look. "Was I? How forgetful of me."

"Minx." His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing across her lower lip. "Shall I remind you?"

"Please do."

The first brush of his lips against hers was gentle, almost reverent. Elizabeth sighed into the kiss, her hands coming up to rest against his chest. She could feel his heart thundering beneath her palm, matching the rapid beat of her own.

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