Read Online The Art of Sinning by Sabrina Jeffries - Free Book Online Page B

beneath.
    Oh, to see Lady Yvette’s figure beneath. To run his fingers up those long legs to where her stockings ended and the bare flesh began. Odd that one buttoned-­up English lady could so fire his imagination.
    And his lust. Damn her.
    â€œDoes your apprentice know about the other painting?” she asked as they reached the next floor.
    â€œHe’s aware that I’m working on a second project while I’m here, yes. I had to tell him that much so he’d understand why I’m having him mix extra paint, stretch extra canvases, etc. But for all he knows of the subject, I might be doing a private portrait of your brother’s mistress or illustrating your diary.” He grinned. “I could be up to any manner of shenanigans.”
    She flashed him an arch smile. “So he’s been with you long enough to know your dissolute character.”
    â€œHe knows enough,” Jeremy said blandly.
    â€œBut once the painting is exhibited, won’t he guess that I modeled for it?” She strolled down the hall.
    â€œI create six or seven works a year. If this is chosen to be hung at the Royal Academy’s exhibition next summer, he won’t see it until then, much less be aware of when I painted it. It could be a work from before I hired him.”
    â€œStill—”
    â€œLeave Damber to me.” He caught her hand to halt her. “I promise to preserve your reputation, even with him.”
    Only after her eyes widened did he realize that her hand was bare. That the way he held it was intimate. That her skin was buttery soft, and her fingers more delicate than he’d expected.
    That her breath had begun to quicken . . . as had his pulse. Thunderation.
    He dropped her hand.
    For a moment she stared at him with a look of unsettling intensity, as if trying to parse out his intentions. Then she released a ragged breath that clutched at him somewhere deep, and turned to walk briskly down the hall.
    Fighting his lecherous urges, he strode after her. God, what devil possessed him? He ached to keep touching her. Which was absurd. He generally had better control over his desires.
    She showed him into a spacious salon dominated by a large pianoforte. “Perhaps we could use the music room.”
    She sounded perfectly demure again. Obviously he wasn’t quite the temptation to her that she was to him. That ought to relieve him.
    But it didn’t.
    â€œEdwin rarely comes in here,” she went on, “and it’s wonderfully bright.”
    â€œIt is indeed.” He glanced around. “But aside from the fact that the earl will expect me to spend my days on the portrait, how will you keep the servants from noticing that you and I are disappearing for hours on end? Someone is bound to go looking foryou and find us here. I don’t see how you can keep it a secret as long as we are in the house. I’d hoped you might have some abandoned outbuilding—”
    â€œNo, that won’t work.” A frown creased her brow. “Everything is in use during the day. I suppose we could pretend to go riding and find a field somewhere . . .”
    â€œCome now, your brother is sure to be suspicious if we say we’re going riding alone together. He’ll want to join us, especially when he sees me packing my canvases and sketch books, et cetera, to take along.”
    She released an exasperated breath. “What if we were to do it at night after everyone has gone to sleep? Can you paint at night, in dimmer light?”
    â€œI can and have, though it’s not my favorite.” He eyed her askance. “But you’re proposing that the two of us spend our evenings alone together.”
    Averting her gaze, she tipped up her chin. “Yes. What of it?”
    â€œDidn’t you characterize me as the sort of man who would as soon toss you down and have my way with you as look at you? You practically accused me of being as bad as