Once again the door to his studio was open. She hesitated for a second then knocked.
“Come in, lassie.”
The sound of his voice in the dark made her shiver. This is why you came out, Sam. Admit it.
The studio lights were so bright that she had to shield her eyes with her hand against the glare.
“Sorry to disturb you,” she said, as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the light. “I had a question about our party.”
“It’s after midnight,” he observed. “You should be asleep.”
“So should you.”
He shook his head. “I work best at night.”
“Do you?” The slightly flirtatious lilt to her voice surprised her. Her sisters were the flirts. Wasn’t she supposed to be the serious one? She moved closer to his workbench. “Let me see.”
His eyes narrowed and she felt the sharp edge of sexuality, the way she had the day they met. “As you wish, lassie.”
Magic, she thought, staring at the unfinished sculpture. That was the only way to describe it. Again she found herself marveling at the way he’d somehow managed to transform cold marble into something warm and alive. The line of her throat and shoulders was more pronounced than before and she found herself touching her own throat in recognition.
“I’ve been having trouble with the spine,” he said.
“Not so you’d notice.” She gently rested her hand on the marble, amazed to be reminded that it was hard and cold to the touch. “This is so beautiful.” She allowed her gaze to meet his. “You truly are gifted, Duncan.”
His expression didn’t betray his emotions at all, but Sam sensed a change in the atmosphere between them. Or at least she thought she did.
“Imagination can take me only so far, lassie. Would you pose for me again?”
A flutter happened deep in the pit of her stomach and she knew it was too soon to feel the baby move. What she was feeling had to do with her new husband. “I’m sure you could find a better model, Duncan.”
“But she wouldn’t be you.”
His words galvanized her and she had to remind herself not to ascribe a deeper meaning to his statement Not unless she wanted to complicate her life any more than it already was. “Now?” she asked him.
He nodded. “If you’re not too tired.”
“I’m not too tired.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so wide awake or ready for experience.
The chaise longue was still in the center of the room. She sat down primly, tucking her robe about her knees, and waited for some direction.
“The robe,” he said, standing over her. “Could you—”
She undid the belt to her robe, willing her fingers to stop trembling. There was no reason to be nervous. She had her nightgown on beneath the robe. Besides, this had nothing to do with sex. At least, not for Duncan. This was about his work.
“I need to see the curve of your spine,” he said as she folded the robe and draped it across the back of the chaise.
She nodded and lifted her hair off the back of her neck and let it fall across her chest.
“More than that, Samantha.” His tone was neutral. Maybe too neutral. “I need the entire line.”
She knew what he was asking. Slowly she lowered the right spaghetti strap on her nightgown, then the left one. The bodice fell away from her body, baring her torso to the waist She felt more powerful in that moment than she’d ever felt in the boardroom. She crossed her arms over her breasts then leaned forward, elongating her spine in the way he’d told her to do.
The night air washed over her like a welcome caress. Maybe the gentle breeze would help dispel the heat gathering inside her chest
Then again, maybe not.
He touched her shoulder to adjust her position and she felt as if he had set off a small fire beneath her skin. “Like this,” he said, running his hand down the ridges of her spine. “Can you hold that?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “Of course.”
The position was awkward at best but she didn’t care. Her back was to him yet she could sense when his eyes were skimming her body and when they weren’t. Every now and then he would shift her slightly, the tiniest adjustment of angle and line, then return to his hammer and chisel. She could hear the tap, the soft crack of marble dropping away, the sound of his breathing.
She wondered if she would ever again hear the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear as he held her close.
And then she wondered if she’d lost her mind.
Chapter 12
Sam’s files arrived the next day and her furniture the day after that, and she set about the job of arranging her office. Duncan helped her with the manual labor. He handled the desk and file cabinets as easily as she handled her laptop computer, and she found herself casting appreciative glances his way when she thought he wasn’t looking. There was something overwhelming about a man in his prime and her husband certainly was that. She was almost disappointed when the furniture was in place and she got down to work.
They fell into a routine. Neither one talked about it but their life was acquiring a pattern as the days slid into each other. Her father had yet to return to Houston from his fishing trip but Sam was keeping up with work, thanks to her laptop and modem, her fax and couriers. She took long walks in the early afternoon. Sometimes she borrowed Duncan’s car and drove into town on the pretext of needing toner for her copy machine or a certain kind of shampoo for her hair. The truth was, she loved Glenraven and the people she’d met there. They’d made her feel one of them from the very first day. Lucy at the Heather and the Thistle never failed to make her laugh with stories about Old Mag and Robby. William at
