Eight

EIGHT

Still in the alcove

Several shocked seconds later

“ What ?” Jack blinked owlishly.

Aubriella had utterly flummoxed him.

“What?” he repeated, pulling on his earlobe. “Surely I misheard you.”

“You heard me perfectly well, Jackson Matherfield. You will allow me to draw you, front, back, and sides, in various poses and donned only in pantaloons.” Aubriella was quite certain that of all the things she might have chosen as a stake, Jack had never considered such an outrageous and scandalous request.

But how else could she acquire a fit male specimen to compare to da Vinci’s renderings?

Desperate times and all that.

His expression a mixture of horrified mirth and offense, Jack stared so long, Aubriella began to reconsider her impulsiveness. At last, he spoke, the usual sardonic man she’d come to expect.

“May I surmise, Aubrie, that your obsession with the human body has not waned over time?”

“It has not, though I wouldn’t call it an obsession but a keen scientific interest.” On the verge of blurting that she possessed da Vinci’s drawings of human anatomy, she bit her lip.

Could she trust Jack with her disreputable secret?

No.

Not yet, at least.

After all, he’d exposed Aubriella’s stunt at university and, just like every other male she knew, had deemed it unfitting for a woman to pursue knowledge of biology and anatomy. As if women weren’t capable of knowing their own minds and interests.

“No. I cannot agree, and I shan’t apologize for refusing.” He shook his head, a shock of ebony hair falling over his forehead. “Emmet would call me out. You’d be ruined. Besides, where in the bloody hell do you think you could sketch me without discovery?”

Jack had a valid point there, but Aubriella refused to concede.

“I suspected you’d refuse.” She lifted a shoulder, pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “I guess you’ll never know how I came by the knowledge regarding The Honorable Francine Willoughby.”

She had no intention of revealing the truth to him. The Ladies of Opportunity had sworn a solemn oath to preserve their clients’ privacy.

Still, Jack didn’t know that.

“Besides, I’m positive you’d lose.” She permitted a confident upsweep of her lips. “I haven’t been bested at hazard in years. I’m sure it would bruise your male pride to lose to a mere woman—a gangly, clumsy, bluestocking spinster to boot.”

“Don’t do that,” Jack snapped, censure darkening his features.

Aubriella couldn’t prevent her eyes from flying wide at his unexpected terseness. “Do what?”

“Disparage yourself.” He raked a hand through his hair, then gently clasped her shoulders. “You are a lovely young woman with a figure any man with eyes in his head would admire. What’s more, you are intelligent—the most intelligent woman I am acquainted with. You do not need artifice or pretentiousness, and I have never heard you speak unkindly of anyone nor spread gossip.”

He’d painted her a virtual saint.

Nevertheless, Aubriella barely heard the compliments. At his touch, sensation zipped along her arms, and though it made no sense scientifically, her knees went weak, and lightheadedness swept through her.

Surely hunger explained this curious physical response.

She’d scarcely touched luncheon or dinner.

“I…” She swallowed; her mouth suddenly gone dry as cold ashes. Rarely at a loss for words, she struggled to gather her scattered wits. “I only repeated what others have said.”

“Well, don’t.” Jack squeezed her shoulders and then let loose. “Whoever said such stupid things is an idiot and unworthy of your regard. Don’t listen to them.”

“ You’ve said those things, Jack.”

And more hurtful remarks she would prefer not to dredge up.

She’d heard him once when he’d been speaking to Emmet.

And yes, Aubriella had overheard others as well over the years. At first, the insults and derisions stung something awful, but in time, she’d grown a thicker skin, and other than an occasional prick now and then, she’d become almost immune to them.

A stricken expression shadowed the lean contours and planes of his striking features. He searched Aubriella’s face, shame and regret softening the corners of his eyes. “Then I’m an idiot. I have no excuse to offer but can only beg your forgiveness.”

“It was a long time ago. Think no more on it.” Why she should pardon him now, when for years she’d held his words against him, made no sense whatsoever. But much about Jackson Matherfield made no sense of late.

He extended his forefinger and, after a moment’s hesitation, grazed the rough pad over her left cheek, then across her upper lip. “You are incomparable. A lily amongst ferns.”

“ Lily ?” A giggle escaped Aubriella, and she flicked a bit of lint off his jacket. “Jack, you’re waxing poetic. I never thought I’d see the day when the sardonic, cynical Jackson Matherfield concocted nonsensical platitudes.”

A severe scowl lashed his eyebrows together.

“Do not change the subject, Aubrie. You’ve believed yourself undesirable for too long, and you keep others at a distance to protect yourself.”

Aubriella folded her arms and tapped the toes of her right foot. She didn’t know what to do with this new, sensitive, kind Jack. The old Jack, the teasing, taunting rogue she could handle.

But this one?

Jackson Matherfield confused the very devil out of her, and Aubriella didn’t like being perplexed.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, gentlemen haven’t exactly been lining up to court me.” No one ever had eyes for her when her sisters outshone her like the sun to a candle.

“I’m four and twenty, Jack. Firmly on the shelf. I appreciate your kindness. I do, but you needn’t flatter me or manufacture compliments. You know full well that I’m not like other females. I don’t require a man’s approval, nor am I distraught because I’m not desirable and shall never marry.”

Perhaps the tiniest bit troubled that she wasn’t pretty or sought after, but she’d walk on hot coals before admitting that to him.

“Bugger that bloody balderdash.” Before she could scold him for his coarse language—which she didn’t really mind—or comment on his unintended alliteration, Jack snaked an iron-like arm around her waist and the other across her shoulders, pulling her tight against him in an unbreakable embrace.

Her pulse accelerated with excitement and anticipation.

“I’ll show you just how desirable you are, Aubrie.”

A second later, his firm mouth covered hers in a smoldering kiss, so scorching and potent she had to clutch his shoulders to remain standing.

Lord, have mercy.

Electricity sluiced through her as a headiness she’d never imagined engulfed her from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head.

When his tongue nudged her mouth open and tangled with hers, Aubriella was lost. She gave up trying to make sense of what was happening and let logic, reason, and common sense flit away until all that remained was Jack and a haze of passion, need, and want.

He pressed his powerful body into hers, his muscles flexing beneath her hands. His intoxicating cologne engulfed her.

And his mouth.

Oh, his magnificent mouth and the magic he wrought with his lips.

Raucous masculine laughter nearby made him lift his head.

Aubriella slowly forced her weighted eyelids open, her gaze meshing with his.

Eyes hooded and heavy with passion, he cupped her face. “Never say you are undesirable again. Never.”

At that moment, Aubriella felt like the most beautiful, alluring woman on earth, and hot tears pricked her eyelids. She hadn’t realized how bereft she was, and now that she’d experienced desire, she didn’t know if she could go on as if nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

In truth, she very much feared Jackson Matherfield had altered her life forever.

Overcome with bashfulness, she curved her mouth into a small, fragile smile. “Will you let me draw you? I shan’t include your face, so no one will know who it is.”

Closing his eyes, he threw his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat, and groaned.

“You will be the death of me, Aubriella Penford.”

Sighing, he set her away from him and straightened her earring.

“We’ll leave it to the dice, vixen. If you win, I’ll let you sketch me, though God only knows how we’ll manage it. If I win, you’ll tell me what you know about the mysterious wager regarding Miss Willoughby and how you came to know it. Agreed?”

This might very well be her only chance to see the male form and sketch it. And suddenly, it had become very important that it was Jack that she drew. Aubriella refused to examine the reason behind that newfound need. “Agreed, but no one else can know the stakes. As far as they are concerned, we’re playing for a forfeit.”

“That is wise. Shall we? We have dice to cast unless you’d settle for a game of vingt-et-un instead?” He cocked an eyebrow.

In expectation?

In challenge?

Her mind kept wandering to that blistering kiss.

How was she supposed to concentrate now?

Was that the rogue’s intent all along?

Had he planned to kiss her, to disarm her?

Would Jack do something that underhanded?

Aubriella’s gut said no, but what did she really know about men and their ways?

She considered his suggestion. Vingt-et-un was far simpler to play than hazard. She mentally weighed the chances of winning at either game and settled on hazard, although, in all honesty, games of chance were wholly unreliable. “I think we’ll stick with the dice.”

“The game will be a first for us,” he said. “Even though we’ve attended many of the same events, including the Templetons’ annual house party, many times.”

His point?

Jack extended his elbow. “Tonight seems to be fraught with new experiences.”

Would Aubriella remember this yuletide toss of the dice as the exact moment her life irrevocably changed? Or had it happened when Jack had kissed her, and for the first time in a very long while, she admitted she wanted more out of life than studying scientific specimens and drawings?

She wanted passion and love.

And she feared that newfound discovery mightn’t ever be fulfilled.