Chapter 7

CHAPTER7

Anthony couldn’t take his eyes away from Lady Curtis. Her fingers hooked under the shoulders of the outer garment to the gown she was wearing, then she began to lower the dress.

His mouth turned dry, enamored, uncertain what to say or even think. She was hardly undressing completely. The gown consisted of two parts, an outer green garment and an inner white silken sheath. It was the outer layer she was removing, but it was enough to reveal the way the silken piece molded to the curves of her body.

Anthony’s eyes wandered of his own accord. They danced over her figure, following the slow movement she made of removing the outer garment, dropping it down her waist, past her hips, then down her legs, until she stepped out of it.

“Have I shocked you?” Lady Curtis asked with a giggle.

“I rather suspect that was the intention.” His voice had turned deeper as he watched her smile grow.

I like it when she shocks me.

At that moment, nothing else in the world seemed to matter to Anthony; all that mattered was being here with Lady Curtis like this. There were no rules within this small studio, no expectations, only he and a partly clothed Lady Curtis with lines of paint across her skin that weren’t quite finished.

“You are staring, Your Grace.”

“I can’t help feeling the painting isn’t quite finished.” He stepped toward her with the paintbrush lifted, feeling playful. He tested the waters first to see if she would step away from him, but she didn’t. She stayed where she was with her cheeks blushing a warm shade of pink. Imbued by that blush, he placed the paintbrush to her skin again and continued the line along her collarbone then over her shoulder that had been exposed. She arched her neck at that touch, revealing the curve there.

Anthony almost bent down toward her then. An imagining filled his mind of him kissing the curve of that neck.

That would be too bold!

He resisted then finished the line of paint down her arm, right down to the delicate bend of her wrist.

“Am I your new canvas?” she whispered, her voice soft, then she turned as if analyzing all that he had painted on her.

That is a picture to behold.

“It seems you are. Wait. Hold that pose.”

“I’m sorry?” She froze, her eyes going wide.

“Please, do not move from that position.” Anthony backed up from her, abruptly full of energy. Reaching for the canvas on the easel, he removed it, tossing it to the side and replacing it with a fresh one. “That is the painting I should be doing next.”

“What? Me?” Lady Curtis laughed at the idea. “I am not quite the image of perfection you usually paint. Especially like this…” She pointedly glanced down at her lack of clothes and the paint.

“Consider it part of you educating me then, My Lady.” Anthony was playful as he placed the paintbrush to the canvas and caught her eye, offering a wink. That simple wink made the blush grow more on her cheeks.

I have an effect on her too. It is there to see!

Anthony indulged in the moment, painting with wild abandon. Lady Curtis was exactly the antithesis of what he usually painted: perfect landscapes and perfect people, sitting primly and neatly. Here, Lady Curtis was partially unclothed with hair wild and paint everywhere as if the way of the world had been turned upside down in this small room. There was something Anthony loved about the feeling she had brought to the space.

With her arms lifted as she looked back and forth over the paint on her skin, she could have been dancing, enjoying the freedom by herself. It was that sense of freedom that made the painting something ethereal.

Anthony mixed paints together he wouldn’t usually mix. He made a water pot dirty that he usually tried to keep clean, and he was certain some paint drops even dripped off the bottom off the canvas and onto the floor, but he didn’t care. He had to commit this moment to canvas before it was lost forever.

“I have not seen you like this before.” Lady Curtis’ words didn’t make him pause in his work. If anything, he was even more energetic, moving back and forth in front of the canvas. “This excited.”

“Let’s just say I’m quite enthralled by the view before me,” he whispered, aware his voice had turned deeper. She laughed and tipped her head back a little.

The new angle was even better, and Anthony hurried to commit it to canvas. She laughed without fear, without shame either.

That is how everyone should laugh, with full enjoyment.

“This is not quite the friendship I was expecting with the Duke of Belbridge, I must say.” Lady Curtis drew Anthony’s attention once again.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

“I am the one who removed my gown, am I not?” Lady Curtis said pointedly, earning a laugh from Anthony.

“I’m very glad you did,” he confessed. Anthony had never been this bold with a lady before, yet somehow with Lady Curtis, it didn’t feel wrong. It merely felt natural as if there was no other way for them to be together except open. “Though I will admit, it feels strange to think I must make the title of this painting ‘Lady Curtis.’”

“It is my name,” she said softly, lifting her chin higher once again. “How about a different title altogether? ‘Far from perfect’ — how does that suit?”

She was goading him again, but he loved it. It made him laugh heartily with his paint brush making a mistake on the canvas. At first, he moved to cover up the mistake before he realized the fleck of paint actually added to the composition, and he left it as it was.

She is perfect but perfect in disarray.

“That doesn’t quite fit,” he said, deciding to keep his thoughts to himself.

“How about ‘Susanna’ then?” Her question made his paintbrush hover in the air as he turned his eyes back toward her. “As I said, my friends call me Susanna.”

“We are friends, are we?” Anthony held her gaze.

Is it not more?

Anthony wasn’t sure what label to give it, but this was not like any other friendship he had ever known. There was more to it, something that yearned for her deep in his gut. He rather imagined there was something magnetic about her. It kept drawing him to look back at her like a compass needle to north.

“We are certainly something,” she said breathily.

“Susanna it is then.” He held her gaze for a beat longer.

Susanna.

He continued with the paint, creating her face until the lines matched the person in front of him with flecks of paint on her cheeks and the blush making those red flecks somehow darker. As Anthony worked, he kept repeating her name in his mind until he realized, he did not want this to be a one-way street.

“If I am to call you Susanna, then you should not call me ‘Your Grace.’” He watched as his words made the small smile fall from her face. Her lips parted, staring at him with a kind of wonder. “Call me Anthony.”

“Hmm, that cannot be right.”

“What do you mean?”

“For I thought you were going to teach me how to behave more like a lady. What would people say if I were to call the Duke of Belbridge Anthony in public?” Her question made him lower the paint brush for a second in thought.

People would talk. I wouldn’t like that.

“It could be our secret,” he offered. “You can call me Anthony in private when we are alone. What do you say?”

“Well, I suppose I could agree to that.” She glanced between their positions. “Calling you ‘Your Grace’ now would feel odd indeed after a moment like this.”

“I am glad we agree.” Anthony paused with his work another time and stared at Susanna. Something wasn’t quite right about the painting.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, tilting her head at an angle as she held the pose that he had asked of her.

“Your hair.” He reached for the pencil drawing he had made of her on the horse. “It was wilder here.”

“Did you like that?” she asked. Her eyes held his without blinking. For some reason it felt like a huge confession to admit it aloud.

Very much!

He settled himself with nodding wordlessly instead.

“Then we best fix that.” She raised her hands toward her hair and began to unpin it. Slowly, some of the tendrils fell down. Anthony found he could not stand still.

Maybe it was the lack of decorum between them in this moment that encouraged him to think it wasn’t wrong, or maybe it was just the want to be closer to her, yet he placed his paint brush in the nearest pot and moved toward her. Stopping close in front of her, he reached for her hair too and helped her with those pins. Conscious of how she was looking up at him as they both worked, he soon returned that stare.

“How is that? Better?” she murmured as she lowered her hands.

“Almost.” He ran a hand through her wild hair. Something inside told him it was a sin to do such a thing, but another part delighted so much at indulging in the fantasy, he couldn’t help it. It was a simple touch, just one brush through her hair with his fingers. The curls were soft like silk, teasing his skin, then they sat back, mad and untamed. “That’s it. That’s the look.”

* * *

What is happening?

Susanna was quite breathless as she stared up at the Duke, the man she was now supposed to think of as Anthony. His eyes flicked down to her lips as he slowly released her hair. That simple look had a tremor pass up her spine, one of excitement.

“How many rules of propriety are we breaking?” she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t move away from her. His eyes moved back to find hers again.

“A lot.” His voice had turned deeper.

“Yet, you are still not moving away?”

“That is because I do not wish to.”

Susanna felt a need course through her. With her eyes flitting down to his lips, an imagining filled her mind, one where she and Anthony were kissing. The temptation was too much to resist, and in a room where they had already broken so many rules, Susanna didn’t feel so bad about testing another boundary.

Inching closer toward him, she tested the waters to see what he would do. She was so close now that she could smell the paint that was on his skin; it was mixed with his cologne, a heady mix of musk and citrus. When she inched forward again, he angled his head toward her, taking the lead.

When Anthony’s lips found hers, Susanna fell still, shocked at the feeling. It wasn’t just the warmth of his lips or the softness that was scintillating to her; it was the fact he was kissing her at all.

This is certainly breaking the rules!

It was a tender kiss, chaste, merely a press of lips that had Susanna longing for more. She was careful not to let her hands reach out to touch him. Instead, she held onto that kiss for a brief minute before Anthony moved back again. They stood there, smiling at each other, their eyes not wandering.

“Was that another of my lessons?” Anthony whispered.

“My lessons? You kissed me!” she pointed out to which he laughed deeply.

“I think you were the one who moved forward first.”

“You tempted me. I shall blame you.”

“We could blame each other.”

“I like that. We can blame each other,” she said with finality, watching as he stepped back from her again.

“Hold that position, just like that, please.” Anthony begged of her as he returned to the canvas. Susanna’s arms were beginning to ache now, but she would happily hold it, just for the chance to see that energy with which he painted again. He picked up the brush and placed the bristles to the canvas, moving so swiftly that she could barely see where the brush rested before it was off again. “I think I am beginning to see what you meant now.”

“Meant? When?”

“When you said imperfections can be thrilling.” He lifted his eyes from the canvas and met her stare. “Thrilling indeed.”

His words sent another jolt through her as he continued with the work.

Susanna did not know how long she stood there, allowing him to paint her, but it must have been for some time. At one point, tea was delivered, and she had to hide behind the door in her undressed state as Anthony took delivery. The tea was drunk, and he returned to his painting.

“There. It is nearly done. Enough for you to rest now.” Anthony stood back from the canvas and beckoned her forward with the brush, urging her to see.

“Thank goodness! My arms were aching.” Susanna puffed out her cheeks for dramatic effect before coming to stand in front of the canvas.

The sight that met her there made her stand straight with her lips parting. It was nothing like the other paintings. This one had a freedom to the way it was painted. There was a sense of movement, rather than anything being neat or prim. Across the picture, Susanna seemed to move, with paint across her arms and chest, and the silken skirt billowing around her legs.

“Your Grace…”

“No, Anthony,” he whispered in her ear.

“Anthony,” she corrected herself, feeling goosebumps raise on her skin at how close he had come. “It is an incredible painting. It is beautiful.”

“I painted what I saw.”

He thinks I am beautiful…

Susanna thought it an odd idea, yet the painting seemed to suggest he was telling the truth. He had painted her with a wild beauty as if she were a feral horse running free over the country hills.

“I love it,” she murmured then looked at him over her shoulder. “I hope you intend to keep it hidden. I shudder to think what it will do for your sense of propriety if your butler were to see how you had painted me.” Her teasing worked, and Anthony laughed, tipping his chin back. Once again, he laughed without hiding it this time.

He is laughing like this increasingly more with me. It is the way he should laugh!

“Believe me, I will hide it well,” he promised her and dropped one of the brushes into a pot on the table beside them. “Well, I will admit, I rather enjoyed our lesson.”

“As did I.” Susanna turned back to face him, thinking of the kiss they had shared. She couldn’t help longing for another, wondering what it would feel like for his lips to brush hers again. He seemed to feel the same, for he moved swiftly toward her and took her hands. His fingers entwined with her own as his lips moved near to hers.

A knock rapped at the door.

“My Lady? Lady Curtis?” Peggy’s voice emanated from the other side of the door.

Susanna held her breath, staring as Anthony moved back an inch.

“Nearly,” she whispered, so only he could hear her.

“Another time, perhaps. Our next lesson?”

“I look forward to it.”

“My Lady?” Peggy’s raps on the door grew more impatient. “We are late. We promised Lady Follet we would be home by this time.”

Susanna snapped her gaze toward the nearest clock, set above a mantelpiece. Seeing Peggy was right, Susanna cursed and dropped Anthony’s hands, hurrying to pick up her gown.

“She’ll be with you shortly,” Anthony called through the door then hurried to help her, pulling on the gown and the shawl she had dropped too.

“How do I look?” Susanna asked once she was done, turning back to face Anthony. With her hair still wild, there wasn’t much they could do now to mask that.

“Well…” Anthony offered a mischievous smile. “Your maid will certainly have ideas.”

“Shh!” She waved at him to be quiet, laughed, and then hurried to open the door. The moment she did, she found poor Peggy’s face on the other side, turning as white as morning clouds. “Ah, there you are, Peggy. I am ready to go now.” She stepped out and glanced at Anthony.

He waved, just once, with that vast smile still on his lips.

Oh, how I will remember this moment!

Then Peggy took Susanna’s arm, and she was hurried off through the house with Anthony disappearing behind different walls and closed doors.

“Oh, my goodness, My Lady! Look at you,” Peggy said in a hasty whisper. “What will your godmother say when she sees you in this state?”

“I am not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Peggy turned Susanna to look in a hallway mirror before they could reach the door.

Susanna saw the paint on her skin, the disarray of her gown, and the loose hair. Coupled with the blush to her skin, it appeared very much as if she and Anthony had been doing things they should not.

“Well, I have a solution.” Susanna led the way back out to the carriage. “I will sneak back into the house, so my godmother cannot see my state.”

“Sneak!?” Peggy repeated in shock, clambering into the carriage after her.

“Yes. It’s time we started keeping secrets, Peggy. Will you help me in this?”

“If you wish me to, then yes, of course,” Peggy sighed as she sat back on the carriage bench. “I just hope we do not come to regret this.”