Chapter Nine

F or a time after the kiss there was only the scratch of Owen's pencil to fill the silence between them. But as Ellis watched, he gradually became less frantic, sitting back to examine his work, and then changing a detail here and there. Ellis's lips still felt the ghost of their kiss.

"Owen," she began in a whisper. "Can I talk?"

"You can," he said, glancing up at her once more and then down at his work.

"You said you wanted to tantalize your audience. That this," she lifted a finger to gesture between them, "was about telling a story. A story about a lady who has never experienced a kiss or whatever comes next. But why has she chosen this man? This lover out of all the ones she could have chosen?"

He made another stroke, staring at the curve of her mouth. "I suppose at the heart of it, it is about a woman and a man, who are falling in—"

"Love?"

"Lust, more likely," he said, with a wicked grin that lodged in her chest and made her heart stutter. "He begins to seduce her, but she is his willing victim. In fact, it might be said she seduces him. That is up to the reader."

Ellis considered this. "And people will buy this book when it's finished?"

"I hope so. The others have sold well. Hugh Madrigal, my publisher has a select list of regular customers who buy everything I give him."

She considered that. "Do you think someone who knows me might buy your book and recognize me?"

He looked up then, meeting her eyes. "Does that concern you?" He frowned. "Of course it does. I should have thought. No. I would not let that happen. I can alter your face enough to hide your identity."

She nodded. She didn't really want him to do that. She wanted people to see her in his book, but what if Theo found out? It was a risk too great to take, although she told herself that by the time the book was published she would be safe in London. For a moment she considered what would happen if people bought the book and saw her in it. The shocked whispers, the stares... She would become notorious. The penniless girl who had married a duke, and now here she was, appearing in a saucy book.

She had expected Owen to ask her who might recognize her, but he didn't. He didn't pry, he was the complete gentleman—was it wrong of her to wish he weren't? She had to continually remind herself that they were two strangers who had come together for a brief time for the benefit of them both, and it was nothing more complicated than that.

Even if she might wish it were.

And yet that kiss... how could he not have felt it down to his very toes, just as she had?

He had set aside his sketch now and was smiling at her rather gravely. "Thank you, Ellis. That was perfect. I do not need you now. I can work on refining today's drawings by myself."

"Oh? Are we done?" She straightened, tucking her hair back behind her ears.

"Yes, until tomorrow. If you are happy to continue then?" He was watching her closely, as if he was worried the kiss might have changed her mind.

"Yes," she said softly. She rose to her feet, feeling a little lost. "Will I see you at dinner?"

"I... I may be working." He must have read her disappointment in her face because he added an explanation. "While everything is fresh in my mind."

It was embarrassing he had gauged her so easily. Ellis looked to the window. It was late afternoon, but this time of year it would remain light well into the evening. "I may go for a walk in your garden." She spoke with false enthusiasm.

"Please do. Don't stray too far," he said quickly. "Stay close to the house, and call out if..."

He was being protective, and she should be grateful, when all she wanted to do was keep on kissing him.

"I will," she reassured him firmly.

As she opened the door, she glanced back. He sat with his head bowed, busy sorting through today's work. He had already forgotten about her. She was just a means to an end, the latest in a long line of models, and she needed to remember that.

There was no one on the stairs as Ellis went up to her bed chamber. In the wardrobe were the gowns she had worn so far for Owen, but there were other garments, too. She decided several of them were unremarkable enough for her to wear outdoors. She chose one with a cream-colored skirt and a pale green bodice, with a matching ribbon to tie under her bosom. There were even some sturdy looking shoes which, if a little big, fit her well enough.

Once dressed, she examined herself in the mirror and thought she looked the epitome of respectability.

As promised, she would stay close by the house, but she did not believe Theo was still about. He would be at Breamore, putting his mark on everything and telling lies about her absence. She thought of Elijah and hoped he was still out of harm's way. After Archie had breathed his last, she had sent his lover to some relatives in a village nearby until it was safe for him to return. Although he had been no threat to Theo's plot, Ellis knew how much Theo had despised Archie and his paramour. He would wish to extract some sort of cruel revenge, she was sure, because that was just the sort of creature he was.

Theo's hatred seemed incomprehensible to Ellis, who had seen Archie and Elijah together and so obviously in love. Surely love was love, whoever it was between? She was only glad she had been able to give the two of them the chance to find happiness for a time at least.

Her thoughts wandered and she remembered one summer's evening, coming into the house barefoot after reading in the garden. The two men must not have heard her, because when she rounded the corner into the sitting room, they were together on the sofa. At first, she had thought they were cuddling, and then she saw that Elijah was lying on top of Archie, his hands clasping Archie's hips and lifting him so that he could push into him. They groaned together, and Elijah stretched down to kiss his lover, murmuring words that Ellis barely heard but knew were words of praise and love.

Unseen, she had slipped away and up to her room. The sight of them had not shocked her. She had known enough by then to understand the mechanics of men making love to each other. She had been happy for them, but at the same time she had been sad for herself. Because to see such affection, such devotion, between her two friends was to remind her that she was alone.

Outside, she took a turn about the garden. She could see over its sheltering wall, beyond the fields, to the forest. The trees looked as forbidding as she remembered, and with a shiver she turned her back. She was safe here at the Lodge. It was as if a warm cloak had been wrapped around her. As if Owen had enfolded her in his arms. Eventually she would have to leave, to begin the next stage of her life, but she didn't want to think about that now. She wanted to pretend she had no past and no future, and simply enjoy the attention Owen gave her every day.

Was it wrong of her to crave his single-minded attention? Surely that was rather childish. But there was more to Ellis's yearning than a selfish desire to be at the center of Owen's world. As the youngest of three daughters, she had often been ignored and overlooked. Catherine, the eldest, had been pushed into society by their mother and told to lead the way, and like the obedient girl she was, she had done just that. Ellis didn't believe for a moment that Catherine had wanted to marry her old duke, but still she had done it. He was dead now but had left her in a precarious position in the north of the country. Too far away to help Ellis in her current crisis.

Her second eldest sister, Sophia, had always been determined to make the most of her chances. She had once announced to them all that she would marry well—their mother didn't have to tell her to do so—and live a comfortable and busy life. She wanted to be at the center of London society, and make every other woman yearn to be her. So that was what she had done. Ellis did not like Sophia's husband. He was sly and secretive, and sometimes she thought Sophia wrapped herself in shawls and scarves for a reason. Did her husband hurt her? Not that Sophia would hear a word about that, shrugging and laughing, and turning the conversation to the next entertainment she was planning in her house in Mayfair. Ellis did not think she could ask Sophia for help. Her sister would be worried about the effect such a scandal would have on her position in the ton .

Ellis had felt alone, even when her sisters were with her. She remembered, when they were children, always trailing after them, calling for them to "please wait for me!" She had been so very grateful when Archie had found her and put his proposal to her and given her the chance to leave behind a life she loathed. It was just a shame her luck had not lasted, and she had found herself alone again. But during the past few days the clouds that seemed to hang over her had begun to clear away. Whether it was the effect of Owen, or Hawthorne Lodge, or both, she wasn't certain, but it was as if the sun was peeping out.

For a long time she remained in the garden, enjoying her solitude and the perfumed plants about her. The peacock strutted along the top of the wall, giving its distinctive screech. Joan had told her its name was Daffyd, and it had just appeared out of nowhere one morning. Privately, Ellis wondered if it was one of the peacocks Archie had brought to populate the gardens at Breamore. Perhaps, like her, it preferred the Lodge?

Eventually the light began to fade and a cool breeze wafted around her, stirring her hair and the lace on the sleeves of her gown. It was time to go inside. She hoped Owen would be at dinner, but she already knew he would not. He wanted to finish his work, and she understood that. She had noticed he was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to his art.

She smiled. And he had kissed her! The warm pressure of his lips had been quite delightful, and then the slide of his tongue. She had been certain he was going to keep kissing her, but he had stopped. It had all been about his desire to ensure her look, her pose, was just as he wanted it, and not his desire for her as a person.

Such a lowering thought.

But what about tomorrow? If his series of drawings was about seduction, then what came after a kiss? She shivered a little, hugging herself. A touch? Would she actually have to pretend she had just been made love to?

Suddenly she knew she didn't want to pretend.

Ellis trailed her fingers over some climbing roses that grew against the wall of the house. The petals were soft and fragrant. Could she persuade Owen to make love to her? She imagined him nuzzling against her throat, his tongue warm and wet as he slid it down to her breasts, his mouth hot as he sucked on her nipples. They began to ache, as if imagination were fact. This was desire. If only she were more experienced with real life than the fiction in her books, she could...

Could what? Seduce him? Like the lady in his series of drawings? And then what would happen? Would he finish his work and be finished with her? Send her off to London and forget all about her?

It came to her as no shock, but Ellis didn't want that. She didn't want him to forget her. She wanted her time here to go on and on, for it never to end. She wanted him to kiss her again and hold her. She wanted him to ask her to stay with him forever.

So foolish.

She knew better. The thought sobered her, and she quickened her steps, making her way back to the door and into the house.