Flirting With Fortune

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I thought to take a look at what you’ve done so far. A man can lean against a window only so long, my dear.”

She came around the easel, standing defensively in front of it with her hand stretched out between them. “Oh no, you don’t. An artist’s work is not to be seen until it is done.”

“Nonsense. How am I to know you are doing me justice?” He made to sidestep her, and she jumped to her left to block his way, mock outrage bringing her hands to her hips, which had the unexpected benefit of pushing up her small but perfect breasts.

“Don’t even think about it. I shall never forgive you if you ignore me.”

“Mmhmm, that’s nice,” he said, moving to step around her.

Both hands came up this time as she widened her eyes in laughing earnestness. “Sir Colin Tate, if you so much as take one more step, I’ll—”

He stepped forward, bringing his chest flush against both of her palms. “You’ll what?”

Beatrice’s mouth fell open, her eyes darkening almost to navy. The fragrance of lilacs rose above the smell of paint, teasing him with its familiarity. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect for him. He stood there, letting her feel his heart race beneath the fabric of his clothes. Letting her feel how much she affected him. Not even trying to hide the desire in his eyes.

After a moment, her arms relaxed a bit, bringing her wrists down against his body as well. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips before she looked back up at him through her golden lashes. This close, he could see the halo of green around her pupils, flecked with a bit of gold.

He licked his own lips, waiting, wanting her to make the next move. When it came, it was much more bold than he could have hoped for. Drawing a deep breath, she slid both hands up his jacket and grabbed his lapels. His blood roared in his ears as want rushed through him, testing his willpower. His heart beat in a heavy rhythm once, twice, three times, and just when he thought she might change her mind, she tugged him hard and brought his lips to hers.

Chapter Seventeen

God, it felt so good to have her lips pressed against his at last. It had been near torture, painting him when what she really wanted to do was kiss him. Having two of him—the living, breathing, warm-blooded Colin as well as the emerging portrait of him looking at her with those incredible eyes, seducing her without lifting a single finger or saying a single word was pure, delectable torture.

She held tight to his lapels, pulling him to her as if her life depended on it. For his part, he came willingly, slanting his lips over hers and overwhelming her every sense. She opened her mouth, eager to taste him once more, to feel the heat of his tongue slide against hers. His hands slipped around her waist, pulling her whole body against him, even as her arms remained between them.

The feel of being completely engulfed in his arms was so foreign but yet so pleasurable, even more so with the wickedness of it all. The light of the afternoon sun lay across them, heating the right side of her body while the rest of her languished in shadow. His shadow.

His tongue danced with hers, making her moan with the sensation that shot through her whole body at his touch and landed deep in her belly. Colin’s arms slid farther down, cupping her bottom, shocking her at his boldness. She drew a deep breath through her nose, savoring the smell, the feel, the taste of him. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could be bold.

Releasing his jacket, she slipped her hands up the side of his neck, and delved her bare fingers into the silk that was his hair. It was cool and soft—in perfect contrast to the rest of him.

He broke the kiss then, and she started to moan in complaint, but his lips moved across her cheek, down her neck, and explored the exposed line of her collarbone. Oh good heavens, it was an altogether different sensation from his lips against hers. She had no idea her skin could be so utterly sensitive, so perfectly alive to the touch of another person.

A wave of chills ran down her spine, raising gooseflesh on her exposed arms and making her shiver. He pulled away and smiled down at her, their faces almost too close for her to focus.

“You, my little artist, are entirely too delightful for your own good.” He slipped his hands up her bare arms, lightly clasping her fingers and pulling them down. He kissed each hand in turn before releasing them.

Her mind was absolutely reeling with the shared intimacy between them. She had never thought a man could so thoroughly addle her senses—or that she would like it. A delicious thrill rolled down her body like a drop of warm honey. Lord have mercy, did she like it.

But not nearly as much as she liked him.

* * *

“What on earth is that ridiculous look on your face all about?”

Colin started, looking up from the law book he wasn’t actually reading to see his cousin striding into the room. “Woolgathering, I suppose.”

Lifting a sandy brow, John shook his head. “Don’t believe you for a moment, old man. If ever a man was thinking of a female, it was you, just now.”

Colin started to deny it, but came up short. Why not share with John? His cousin was as good a confidant as any in this city. “I’ll concede the point.”

“Well done, man,” John said, slapping him on the shoulder before dropping into the chair across from him. “Who’s the chit? Find a proper match, did you?”

A proper match. It was the perfect way to describe the way Colin felt about Beatrice. Especially when he thought about that last kiss. The first one had been innocent, sweet and passionate all at once. But the kiss from yesterday? He swallowed, adjusting his position just thinking about it. That was not the kind of kiss one shared with just anyone. “I did. And I’m thinking of asking for her hand.”

“Good on you, my friend. Who is the lucky heiress?”

Colin clenched his jaw, rebelling at the descriptive. “It’s not about her bloody money, John. She is the finest person I have met in society—male or female.”

Concern clouded his cousin’s eyes, and he leaned forward. “Devil take it, Colin—you didn’t go and fall for a penniless woman, did you? Think of your family, man, not to mention that excessively mortgaged estate.”

“No, no—she has an exceptional dowry. But Lady Beatrice is so much more than that.”

Relief washed over John’s face, and he sat back and chuckled. “Yes, I’ll just bet she is. God, you had me going there for a moment. An exceptional dowry indeed.”

Colin was fairly sure putting a fist through his cousin’s face wouldn’t go over well. The strength of his aversion to John’s reaction was shocking. If he reacted this way to his own family, how would things go when others whispered behind their hands about the nobody baronet pursuing the powerful marquis’s daughter?

“I’ll not say it again, John. Her bloody dowry has nothing to do with the way I feel about her. She is a remarkable, talented woman.”

“Sure, sure, if you say so. But if you’ll remember, I warned you against the fair Lady Beatrice. How do you plan to handle the financial discussion with her family, should it come to that?”

Even though he’d already thought of that particular conversation, Colin’s gut clenched. There were two ways to go about it. One, he could tell the whole truth and be instantly turned away. Two, he could disclose how much the estate made per annum, discuss his prospects as a barrister, and know that once the business loan was paid with the funds from the dowry, it would no longer be pertinent to the discussion, particularly with the generous amount he planned to keep in trust for Lady Beatrice.

In other words: He could lie.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, working at the tension that seemed to follow him whenever he thought of his father’s exceedingly unwise business decision. “Obviously I must disclose the details. I don’t see that there is any way around it.”

Approval lightened his cousin’s expression, and he gave a crisp military nod. “Good plan. The Moores are a powerful family, despite their peculiarities. I wouldn’t want to cross them.”