CHAPTER 19

HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN the attacks would not cease. As Liam sat down for breakfast, he glanced through the pile of newspapers set beside his place at the table. An action he had performed every day for the past two weeks, ever since he had returned from his trip and started sculpting Thalia.

Five long years had passed since his wife's death. Yet as soon as he set foot on English soil again, and the scandal rags had wasted no time to start publishing ghastly caricatures of him and rekindle the old scandal.

Didn't they have something new to latch on to? He would have thought nobody would be interested in his tragedies anymore. But he had been wrong.

He should not care. In fact, he had ignored the poisonous darts five years ago. Why did it bother him so now? Because of her . He didn't want her to see the horrible depictions and read the false descriptions of events.

It didn't matter. He had already told her the truth. She would not care for these falsehoods. She probably wasn't even reading this rubbish. But they still bothered and humiliated him. His dark musings were interrupted when his butler announced.

"Lady Renier is here to see you, my lord," he intoned, guiding Thalia into the breakfast parlor.

He immediately shot to his feet, more out of surprise than polite manners, if truth be told.

"Thalia, you are here earlier today."

"Well, there's really no pleasing you, is there?" she chided. "If I come in the afternoons, I'm too late. If I come in the mornings, I'm too early. As it happens, I have another commitment this afternoon, so I came earlier."

"What commitment?" he snapped without thinking, more provoked by the minute.

What the fuck was he doing questioning her life? But it bothered him in the extreme that she had somewhere to be that did not include him.

"You may not be aware of this, my lord. But I have a life and obligations beyond posing for you." She took a seat, and one of the footmen immediately filled her cup with tea.

"Out, the lot of you," he snapped to the servants. "We'll serve ourselves."

"My, but you are grouchy this morning," she said as she took a delicate sip of her tea. "Anything I can do to help?"

Images of her spread naked on top of the table, her legs open for him to feast on her sweet pussy, or her bent over the table while he took her from behind flashed through his mind. That would certainly improve his mood. His cock leaped to attention. But...no. He was not a barbarian. And he had been acting like one with her. He had gone through more sheaths in the past two weeks than in the past year. But when it came to her, he had no self-control. The look she threw him under her lashes confirmed she knew where his thoughts had wandered.

"No. In fact, let's go to the studio. If you are so busy this afternoon, we might as well start already." Anything to keep her from seeing the conspicuous stack of newspapers on the table.

"WHAT IS THIS?" SHE looked up in surprise from the large box he had placed in front of her. The first delivery had arrived yesterday, but she had already left by then. For the past three days, she had been coming early and leaving by noon. He was not happy with this state of affairs but could hardly demand more of her time. The nature of their relationship did not entitle him to possessiveness.

"It's a gift for you. Open it."

Looking bemused, she pulled the ribbon and lifted the top off the box, then pushed aside the thin cloth that protected the contents inside. Her gasp of amazement told him she was impressed.

As she should be. The dress she lifted from the box was exquisite. Deep blue velvet bodice embroidered in a silver thread that would hug her torso and accent her gorgeous breasts. The sleeves were mere froths of material. They would expose her shoulders and beg his mouth to rain kisses and bites upon them. The skirt was made of yards of translucent organza, in all the colors of the sea. It would shift and catch the light as she walked, bringing attention to the mouthwatering swells of her hips. The modiste had outdone herself. This dress would showcase her beauty like the perfect frame did for a masterful work of art.

"It is beautiful, Liam," she breathed, her hand caressing the fabric. "I don't think I've ever owned a gown so magnificent."

"I'm glad."

Thalia's expression made the chore of searching for the best modiste in town, bribing her with an exorbitant amount to get her to make a whole new wardrobe in short notice, and then convincing her to work from a clay form and trusting his measurements instead of obtaining her own, worthwhile. He couldn't wait to see his muse wearing this gown. He preferred her in nothing at all, but if she had to be clothed sometimes, it had better be in something that did justice to her beauty.

"Here, let's get you out of those drab clothes and into the gown."

"Oh! I-I don't think it will fit." But there was wishfulness in her eyes.

"Of course it will. I took the measurements myself. Remember?" he replied impatiently as he went to her back and started undoing the row of tiny buttons.

She always wore these high-necked gowns with a million buttons down her back. And after more than two weeks of divesting her of the offensive garments, he had become very adept at undoing buttons.

"Is that why you insisted on measuring me?"

"No. I needed to take your measurements for the statue. But they came in handy when ordering the gowns."

Her ugly gown out of the way, he lifted the new gown over her head and dropped it softly onto her. She giggled.

"You are better than a lady's maid. At least your height helps when lifting a gown over my head. My maid has to stand on a stool."

He just grunted a response and closed the buttons on her back. The gown fit her perfectly, hugging her curves as if it had been sewn onto her body. He smiled with satisfaction as he dragged her to stand in front of the full-length mirror he used to see his models from the back.

She gasped when she saw her reflection, her hand coming to her mouth in wonder. "Oh, Liam. This doesn't even look like me."

"Of course it's you," he said as he took pins out of her hair, allowing half of her tresses to fall down her back. They bounced and curled around her shoulders, highlighting the creaminess of her skin.

"This gown has performed a miracle," she exclaimed while grabbing handfuls of the fabric and turning this way and that, observing the shifting colors of the multilayered skirt.

"No miracle. You have always been beautiful. This gown merely shows it. Now you need new undergarments to go with the new gowns. This dreadful chemise is peeking through," He tucked a corner in.

"I'll get new undergarments."

"Already did. They just haven't been delivered yet."

"You bought undergarments for me?"

He grinned impishly. "Couldn't help myself. It was even more fun than ordering the gowns. I kept imagining you wearing the racy lingerie as I chose the styles and fabrics and trims."

"You are incorrigible," she chastised but with a big smile.

"Always. Now, let's get the gown off you for the time being. As good as it looks, I prefer you when you are wearing nothing at all."