Chapter Twelve

T he next morning Polly arrived to help her dress in the turquoise satin—the mermaid dress, as Ellis had named it. Until then she had wondered if Owen was still away, but the maid informed her that he had returned last night and was eager to begin work again.

Owen had already breakfasted and left the room by the time Ellis arrived, and she made haste to finish a slice of toast and drink her tea after an unsmiling Joan had informed her, "He's waiting in his study for you, Miss Mallory."

Ellis had almost forgotten her intrusion into the housekeeper's love life, but Joan obviously hadn't.

The door to the study was open, and Owen was seated at his desk. His dark hair was as untidy as ever, several curls dangling over his forehead as he leaned into his work. Her heart began to beat faster, and she took a breath. She imagined herself sitting on his lap, like Polly and Joan, and winding her arms around his neck. She imagined the laughter in his eyes and the welcoming kisses he would give her.

Impulsively she took a step forward, and her dress rustled.

Owen looked up.

Just for a moment she thought she saw naked joy in his face before his expression shuttered. His hazel eyes, so warm when he had first looked at her, were wary now, and there were shadows under them. Hope sank like a leaky boat. It seemed she had been right about him regretting the kiss and now he was determined to hold himself at a distance, determined to be a principled gentleman. Why couldn't he be a scoundrel? But Ellis knew if he had been a scoundrel then she wouldn't have wanted to throw herself into his arms.

"We have a busy day ahead of us," he said in a brisk, businesslike voice. "I need to finish the final sketches and send them to my publisher as soon as possible. He is growing impatient."

He smiled as he said it, but Ellis felt the gap widen between them. "Of course," she said, hiding her disappointment. "Should I undress...?"

He swallowed and looked away, avoiding her gaze. "Ah, no. Not yet. I need some more drawings of your hands and your... your feet."

Ellis wanted to laugh. Instead, she sat primly on the chaise longue and removed her slippers. She was wearing stockings today, and it occurred to her that she could remove them in a slow and seductive manner to see how he reacted.

If he really wasn't interested in her he would be impatient, wanting to get on with his work. But Ellis didn't think that was going to happen.

She stood and put one foot on the chaise longue and drew her skirt up over her knee. Slowly she undid the tie, and slid the stocking down over her knee, over her calf, and over her foot. She wriggled her toes.

Ellis looked at him through her lashes.

He was unmoving, gazing at her with rapt attention, so she lifted her other foot and began to remove that stocking too.

"Stay like that." His voice startled her.

"Like this?" Her stocking was about her ankle, the shape of her lower leg exposed as she leaned forward. She gave him a sideways glance.

"Yes."

He was already working feverishly, as if he must get the image down while it was fresh in his mind. Before he sent her away. That thought made her sad, because if it were up to Ellis, then she would never leave.

Last night, as she had looked through his book again, she had made a plan. But this morning when she walked into his room, she hadn't been at all certain she would go through with it. Now, seeing his reaction to her, feeling her reaction to him, she knew she had to try.

"I've been thinking about your series," she said, aiming to sound as if her heart wasn't beating so anxiously.

He stopped and gave her a curious look, but his eyes were still guarded. "About my series?"

Well, now it was too late to change her mind, and she could not stop even if she wanted to. "Yes."

The silence drew out and his mouth twitched into a smile. "Tell me then?"

This seduction thing was not as easy as she'd hoped. Ellis continued, hoping she didn't sound panicky. "I read a great deal. Mainly romances. What you are doing now... this series... it seems like a romance to me, only with pictures instead of words."

"That's fair," he agreed cautiously. Before adding with a wry grin, "Perhaps a rather saucy romance."

She laughed in relief. "Yes. One of the more risqué romances that some people want prohibited from sale."

He nodded at that and waited. She took another breath and reminded herself she had nothing to lose. Either he agreed with her idea, or he said no and they carried on as they were until she left for London.

"I wondered if... could I suggest a pose? Something that would appeal to me if I was a reader." She hurried on when he didn't interrupt. "You said your patrons included ladies as well as gentlemen?"

"There are definitely ladies interested in my work," he agreed. "In fact, rather a lot of them. I've often wondered what the appeal is."

"I wonder if they are married ladies, or single women of means?" Ellis pondered. "Do they look at your pictures and dream of themselves in the place of your models? Maybe they spin a story in their imaginations to fit the images? Are they unhappily married or do they long to spice up a tired relationship? Or are they simply lonely?"

Like Ellis.

She hadn't meant to say so much, but Owen seemed to be watching her with amused interest. She felt her cheeks heat.

"You've obviously given it a great deal of thought," he said. "I like to think they are art lovers who admire the quality of my work."

"There is that possibility," she said, with a smile.

"You were going to tell me about your idea," he reminded her gently. "The pose?"

"Can I show you instead?"

"Of course." He had left his desk for the chair opposite the chaise longue, and now he sat down. "You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, Ellis."

Why did he have to be so good, so earnest? Blast Merrily for making him so cautious when Ellis needed him to be rash and irresponsible. But, she reminded herself, only with her and no one else. She met his eyes, and noticed there was a spark in them, a little hint that what came out of his mouth may not be what was in his head, and it gave her the courage to carry on.

"It is all a fairy story, is it not? We are indulging your readers, leading them one step at a time, toward a—a climax."

He looked down at the word, but he was smiling. "Go on."

She reached back to undo her dress, pretending that she couldn't quite reach. "Do you mind?" she asked him, turning so that her back was to him.

She heard Owen clear his throat, and then his fingers were dealing with her hooks and buttons. If she was not mistaken, they trembled slightly.

"How many do you want undone?" he asked, and his breath brushed against her nape. She felt goosebumps. He was so close, and the combination of his warm body and the citrus scent of his pomade made her almost dizzy.

"All of them," she said.

His fingers hesitated, and she held her breath, waiting. But then he resumed, a little clumsily, until he said, "That's all of them," and moved back.

Ellis readied herself. She pictured Owen standing before her, watching her, but instead of trying to resist her, he was urging her on. Of course, Owen didn't need to know she was thinking that. Any hint that she was trying to seduce him, and he would walk out and close the door behind him.

"I am imagining I am one of your female patrons," she said, and held her hand against the bodice. If she took it away, her gown would fall to her waist, and she wasn't ready to go that far. Not yet. "I think if I were, I would not want my lover to undress me. I would want to undress for him. Display myself for his—his pleasure."

Her face must be on fire. She did not look at him as she lay down on the chaise longue and drew the hem of the gown up to her knees, and then rested her head against the cushion at the end. Her hair was near enough to loose, tumbling about her. She wriggled, allowing her bodice to slip low over the globes of her breasts.

Was that far enough? Daringly, she allowed the bodice to slip again, until one pink nipple was exposed.

She heard Owen's breath catch. A glance at him told Ellis he was most definitely engaged. Seeing his throat moving as he swallowed made her want to smile but she knew he could still change his mind. Please don't let him start talking about professional and gentlemanly behavior!

"Is this too much?" she said in a whisper, not wanting to break the spell.

"No, it's perfect," he said, his voice also hardly more than a whisper. "I'll just..." He began to draw, she could hear the sound of his pencil on the paper, and the creak of his chair as he shifted about on it.

As Ellis lay there, half naked before him, any embarrassment or doubt began to diminish. She felt surprisingly free. It was as if she had cast off her former life and become someone else. Would people look at her in Owen's book and want to be her? Would they pretend they were in her place and make up a story to dream about? She hoped so, because she was making up her own story right now. A romance about her and Owen.

She brushed her fingers over her nipple and felt it tighten and ache. An answering ache joined in from between her thighs, and she gave a gasp because it felt so good, and then did it again.

"You... are you..." Owen began, his voice shaky. And then a gruff, "Never mind. Don't move. That's perfect."

Ellis tried not to smile. "You say that a great deal. Perfect. I know I am not the only woman who has posed for you."

"No," he glanced at her quickly. "There have been others. But no one like... you are..." He chewed on his lip, bent his head so that a dark and glossy curl fell over his forehead.

"I am what?" she asked, her curiosity stronger than her fear of what he might say.

"You're not like any of them," he said, and looking up met her eyes with that bright hazel stare.

Surely that was a compliment. "I'm a conundrum," she replied.

He gave an abrupt laugh. "You could say that cariad ." His gaze sharpened, the green in his eyes suddenly more prominent. "I wish I knew what you were, Ellis."

Was he asking her to tell him? She opened her mouth and closed it again. She couldn't, not yet, not now. If she told him the truth, he would immediately revert into the honorable gentleman, and her chance to seduce him would be gone.