23. Chapter Twenty-three

Katrina had never been intimidated by Ethan. Two years her senior, he'd always been so easygoing—until this summer. During her entire visit, he scowled. Currently, he sat across from her, his chin propped on his steepled fingers, his jaw tense. Their conversation was going nowhere, but at least he wasn't bellowing.

It had been two days since Evan left Ethan's study, looking rather worse for wear. She had not seen him since and ached for his company and touch. The world was brighter with Evan in it, so she had to convince Ethan to let her spend time with him.

"Why won't you allow me to court Evan?" she asked for the third time during this conversation.

"'Tis not easy for me, but he is not the right man for you." Ethan leaned back in his chair.

If he was trying to appear authoritative, it did not work. He just looked like her handsome brother playing at being a lord. Not that he had wanted anything to do with her family's wealth and titles. His only goal had been to raise hell with his mates, be the life of every party, and bed willing woman. And then he'd married Anna and now wanted the best for his wife. The irony—the one-time chambermaid was content to spend her days in their garden, kissing her husband. She did not care about jewels, gowns, or their fancy themed parties.

"I thought you despised Eaton. When did your feelings change?" Ethan asked.

"When I saw him stand up to Greyson."

That answer should placate her brother, and it was not a lie. The punches Evan had thrown thrilled her. Mayhap she liked violence, although that didn't seem to be the case because normally, she cringed at the sight of blood. Maybe she just wanted Greyson to get what he deserved. Or perchance it was that Evan had been heroic and protected her from the marquess's lecherous gaze.

The truth was, she'd fallen for Evan the second she awoke in his arms, and even though he'd been masked, it was as if she had known, even then, that he was the man she was destined to be with. Then he'd kissed her and awakened her dormant sensual longing.

Nay. It had been long before that when a little boy with pretty green eyes and a mischievous grin ran around her, taunting and begging her to play with him.

Perchance the truth would convince her brother to change his mind. She winced as she croaked out, "The day he put the frog in my tea."

"Good God." Moaning, Ethan scrubbed his face.

"But, darling," Anna entered the study, "Did you not fall in love with me the first time you saw me standing in your mother's garden holding my doll?"

Anna and her perfect timing confirmed Kat's suspicions. Her brother had pined for his wife for years before declaring his love publicly.

"How old were you when you fell in love with Anna?" Kat asked.

"I believe I was six, and Ethan was eight," Anna answered for him.

Ethan grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. "'Tis not the same thing."

"Why is that, darling?" Anna sat on the edge of Ethan's desk, playing with his hair.

He leaned into her touch as if he were a puppy getting scratches. "Because it is Eaton we are talking about. He is—"

"Your dearest friend." Anna wrapped a strand of his dark hair around her finger. "And a talented artist. Generous to everyone. Exceedingly fun. A loving brother, grandson, and uncle."

"He's a—" Ethan rolled his eyes "—a rake. A male whore. Do you know how many women he has slept with?"

A few days earlier, Kat would have balked at the reminder. But she no longer held Evan's past against him.

"More or less than you, darling?" Anna asked. "Before our marriage, of course."

How fortunate that Anna had said it, for it was on the tip of Kat's tongue.

"Humph." Ethan's bottom lip stuck out.

Thank the heavens for her lovely sister-in-law.

"Then it is settled. Evan and I shall officially court." Kat smiled and stood.

"The hell you will. William will never allow it."

"And yet, William slept with Evan's sister. And before they were married." Hopefully, Kat's glare and huffy voice showed her brother just how frustrating he was. "Why have I been cursed with such unfair brothers who treat women like we are nary capable of our own thoughts and desires?"

If a glare could stoke flames, Ethan's would have turned her into a pile of ash. "I dare say, you should consider your words more carefully. Your accusations are unfounded and insulting."

Since she'd had enough of this conversation, she stomped out of the study.

Before the door closed behind her, she heard Anna say in the sweetest voice imaginable, "Your sister is correct, darling. You are behaving atrociously. Like an absolute arse. "Tis quite unbecoming."

Although Kat stomped to the ocean, it was impossible to remain vexed once she stood on the beach watching the waves crash against the shore. Even the dark clouds looming in the distance did not detract from the sea's magical hold on her. To think she had once been afraid of the unknown beneath the fathomless, healing water. No longer. In fact, she'd frolic in those waves the second she was given the chance.

As she climbed the overlook, she resigned herself to the following:

Firstly, she would sneak back to the beach some night when it was dark. Thereupon, she would leap into the sea and swim like a mermaid. Well, she'd attempt to use her legs as a fin. It couldn't be that difficult. Could it?

Secondly, she missed Evan's company so much, it was as if an empty cavern sat where her heart should be. Therefore, she had no other choice but to listen to her instincts, ignore Ethan, and seek out Evan before they left for their trip. Finally, if Evan proposed, she would say yes. Yes, and I would love to, my darling Evan.

She reached the zenith of the overlook and momentarily lost her ability to breathe. As if conjured from her deepest fantasies, Evan sat in the grass, staring at the ocean, his sketchbook in his lap. She blinked, but he did not disappear. When she finished rubbing her eyes, he was still there, the wind blowing his hair in every direction. She hurried to him.

At her approach, he peered over his shoulder and grinned at her.

Stars. His smile was sunshiny warmth on an overcast day.

He dropped his pencil onto the grass, placed the sketchbook beside him, and then prepared to stand.

"Please don't get up." She arranged her skirts so she could lower herself and sit beside him. "May I see what you are drawing?" Despite taking her time, her descent was ungraceful, and she landed with a thunk—most likely because this man addled her.

He stared at her, wide-eyed and confused, as if she were an apparition that had appeared out of nowhere. If it were not for his smile that had moments before heated her core, she'd think he was displeased at her presence.

"Your brother has made his wishes clear." Evan pointed at a bruise on his chin. "We are not to be alone."

Of course, he had. The impossible, overprotective rat.

"I just want to see what you are drawing." She tried to sound innocent, although her feelings for this man were anything but. "That could not possibly get us into trouble. Could it?"

"Hmm?" he murmured. His brow furrowed as he handed her the sketchpad. "'Tis nothing special, just the view." He pointed to the horizon. "There is a storm brewing, and I wanted to capture the clouds. They are so powerful." He drew swirls in the air as if tracing the black and gray wisps. "Ominous, yet beautiful."

"May I?" She inclined her chin toward his pencil.

"Of course."

Heavens above, his grin made her tingle.

After setting the sketch pad on her lap, she took the pencil in hand. How was she to draw anything when his nearness caused her to want? And ache. And need. She exhaled her desire; at least, she tried to. Using her forearm, she shielded the paper from his gaze. "Do not look until I am done."

Ignoring her, he leaned close, his scent enveloping her. Why did the dashed man always smell of citrus and mint when other men of her acquaintance smelled of sweaty clothes?

"Do not look," she said again.

Chuckling, he knocked his shoulder into hers. The cad.

Giggling, she playfully pushed him away.

"Fine." He placed his palm over his eyes. "Draw to your heart's content. On my honor, I will not look."

She nodded, although he probably couldn't see her acquiescence. Truth be told, she did not trust the goose not to peek through his fingers.

It took all of her discipline to ignore him so she could focus on his artwork. He'd perfectly shadowed the clouds, capturing the impending storm. She envied the depth he'd given to the waves rolling toward the shore. If only she were as talented. She placed the pencil tip on the paper, then sat motionless, her mind whirling faster than a cyclone. Dare she?

"If you take too long, I cannot promise to uphold my end of our deal." His fleshy blindfold did not hide his smirk.

Oh, the silly man, always teasing. She would meet his taunt and beat him at his own game.

As if it had a mind of its own, the pencil took over. Long lines. A curve here. A curve there. Some shading… and voilà! She'd done a fine job, indeed.

"You may look now." She placed the pad in his lap.

He dropped his hand and stared. Meanwhile, her cheeks burned. Had she just done the most delicious, daring deed of her life?

Indeed, she had. "I call it Naked God Proclaiming His Power," she said.

His breath hitched. "Bloody hell. Is that what I think it is?"

Trying to remain stone-faced when she was amused with herself was no easy task. She shrugged. "That depends on what you think it is."

"Hmm," he murmured. He glanced at the pencil and wiggled his fingers.

Anxious to see his response, she handed it over.

"Close your eyes and no peeking," he said.

Delighted with their game, she held her breath and closed her eyes. She'd wager her pearl hair clips that he drew a large manly appendage on the profile of his naked buttocks. He could hardly make it anatomically correct since his crotch faced the waves. It was just the sort of smart-arse thing Evan Eaton would do. Not that she cared in the least since she'd developed a fondness for both his body parts and his irreverent humor.

Each time his pencil scraped the paper, a happy bubble tickled her belly. Meanwhile, the wind increased in intensity, stinging her nose. A raindrop dripped down her cheek, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

If he did not hurry, their project would soon be soaked.

"The storm is coming," she reminded him.

"Finished," he finally said.

She opened her eyes. He presented their joint artwork with a hand flourish. Beside her naked man stood an equally naked woman, long hair cascading past her shoulders and blowing wildly. The couple's hands were joined, and Evan had sketched a simple heart above their heads.

A heart, by God. She'd taunted him with his naked buttocks, and he'd drawn her a heart. Well, he'd sketched her naked backside and a heart. But hearts meant love. Did they not?

He shoved the sketch pad beneath his waistcoat, placed the pencil into his pocket, and then pulled her to him.

Who would have known kissing in the rain would be so romantic or that his tongue thrusting into her mouth in time to the thunder would be so thrilling?

But it was a million wonderful things, and nothing else mattered but this wonderful man in this perfect moment.