Page 39 of Enticing the Devil

“And roll up your sleeves a bit, please.”

The look he gave her was skeptical, but he did as she asked. When he was finished, he met her studied gaze once again. “Better?”

Anne nodded. There was a flutter in her belly and a tightness in her chest that prevented her from answering. It was more than better. Who knew a man’s bare forearms could be so...alluring?

Forcing her gaze back to the easel, she reminded herself she wasn’t here to ogle the man’s physique. Narrowing her gaze, she dipped and twirled her brush in the pigment and started to add shape and depth to his figure.

After a moment, she paused again to eye the painting with a critical frown before lifting her attention back to the man beneath the tree.

She blinked when she saw what appeared to be a curve of amusement softening the firm line of his mouth. Surely, that wasn’t a smile.

“What now?” he grumbled.

She wasn’t quite sure.

Anne glanced back to the painting. Then to the man. Then back to her rendition.

“Ah, that’s it,” she exclaimed quietly.

Setting her brush down, she started toward him. Though he noticeably stiffened, she didn’t shift her gaze from the offending issue. Lowering to her knees between his legs, she reached for his neckcloth. It might have been tied in a casual style, but it just didn’t belong and had to go.

She didn’t even realize she’d just started to untie the thing until she happened to flick her gaze upward and caught sight of his intense expression. It wasn’t dark, exactly, or angry, or even shocked. There might have been a glint of amusement in his eyes, but it was surely overshadowed by the depth and heaviness there as he stared at her face, mere inches from his.

Her belly erupted with flutters and her hands stilled in the snowy white folds of his cravat as fire raced through her. Fire and a tingling shiver that touched every nerve in her body.

She tried to chase it away, and when that didn’t work, she simply chose to ignore it.

With a subtle clearing of her throat, she lowered her focus back to the neckcloth and continued to unravel it.

Though her actions might have indicated a lack of concern for their sudden proximity, her body refused to allow her any reprieve. Every inch of her hummed as her insides slowly melted and her core twisted and turned through a silent internal storm.

Best to get the task done quickly so she could return to a safe distance.

Grasping one end of the long bit of soft cotton, she slid it free from around his neck and set it aside atop his coat. Luckily, the man remained still and unmoving. Unnaturally still almost, if not for the occasional tensing of his jaw. But when she lifted her hands to the collar of his shirt to release the fastenings there, he made a short sound in his throat that brought her attention back to his face.

Any amusement that might have been present earlier was fully gone now as she met a gaze so dark and deep it appeared infinite. She felt as though that stare of his held answers to age-long mysteries she was desperate to explore.

His voice was rough and barely above a whispered murmur as he spoke. “Isn’t this getting rather scandalous?”

Yes! Yes, it was.

She lifted her chin as defiance tugged her mouth into a subtle smile. “It’s art.”

His chuckle was warm and low. An intimate sound, mostly contained.

Anne lowered her attention as she gently spread the points of his collar, revealing the strong column of his throat. She inexplicably found herself entranced by the shadow created beneath the hard edge of his jawline. That hollow was suddenly the most intriguing thing she’d ever seen. She wanted to smooth her fingers along his skin there. No doubt it’d be warm and slightly textured by the faint stubble she could just barely see. Would she feel the thrum of his pulse? Would the muscle running from that hollow down to his shoulder feel as strong beneath her palm as it looked?

She leaned forward, lifting her hand.

Good lord. She was losing her mind.

Realizing the inappropriateness of her thoughts and intentions, she would have drawn back immediately, but something stopped her. A firm tug at her waist.

She looked down in surprise to see his large hand wrapped in the strings of her painting smock. Staring wide-eyed at his hand, she watched with a growing, tingling awareness as he tightened his fist and slowly pulled her closer. She didn’t look up until she felt his warm breath drift across her lips.

The black heat in his heavy-lidded eyes stopped her heart.

“For the art,” he muttered thickly, before giving a final tug that caused her to fall against his chest as his mouth dropped to hers.

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