Eye of the Beholder (6 page)

“I thank you.” She wished she could think of
something to say. How easily she could speak to Monsieur Cresson.
How much of that was because she was blindfolded, anonymous in a
way? “Do you ride in the park often?”

“Not as much as I’d like. And never with such
lovely company.”

His flattery puzzled her. She knew she was
not considered any great beauty by society, but Grayson seemed to
have an unusual attraction for her.

“And you?” he asked. “Do you ride often in
the park?”

“Not since my first season. I don’t spend
much time out of doors or in company, other than the balls and
evening entertainments.”

“I had noticed you keep to yourself much of
the time, even there.”

“I hardly have anything in common with the
young girls coming out, and less with ladies my age who have
married.”

“You must be lonely.”

She smiled, thinking of Monsieur
Cresson—surely not the proper thing to do when riding out with a
gentleman. “I manage to keep occupied.”

Grayson kept the conversation going, asking
her where she lived in the off-season, asking her social plans. For
some reason, she heard the questions in an Italian accent and
allowed herself to relax and enjoy herself.

Once they reached the park, she was aware of
the attention they drew, the plain spinster and the dashing baron’s
son. She experienced the same freedom she felt in Monsieur
Cresson’s studio and allowed herself to revel in the attention.

She became brave enough to ask questions
about his own life, in particular his travels, and her suspicions
returned full-force when he mentioned a Grand Tour in Italy.

“Did you spend much time in any one place?”
she asked, hoping not to alert him to the point of her
questioning.

“I found Venice most intriguing. Rome was
beautiful as well. So much art.”

“And Florence? Did you go there?”

He glanced over at her and she bit her lower
lip. Had she given herself away? Only Monsieur Cresson would be
wary of answering, and if Grayson was not he, then he should not be
aware.

“A few days. Is that a place you’d like to
visit?”

“I love art,” she said, hoping to prompt him
to a similar comment.

He lifted a noncommittal shoulder and kept
his attention straight ahead. “Italy is the place to visit.”

“Perhaps I can convince my mother to travel
there next season instead of here,” Sarah said, hoping she hid her
disappointment at being unable to draw out the truth. But of course
he wouldn’t tell her—he had too much to lose if anyone found out.
That he couldn’t trust her stung just a little. But really, how
well did he know her?

Grayson returned her to her home an hour
later and bent to kiss her hand before taking leave. “I’ll see you
at the Atherton ball tomorrow night?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

He straightened and gave her a smile that
sent her most intimate places tingling, once again making her
wonder if she was right about Grayson Adams’s dual identity.

***

“Take off the chemise today.” Monsieur
Cresson’s voice was brusque as he walked into the studio after
Sarah had obediently tied on the blindfold.

“You want me—unclothed?” she asked, turning
toward him.

“Is that not what I said?”

She flinched at his sharp tone and hesitated,
her hands fluttering near the hem of her chemise. “I’ve never been
unclothed in front of any but my maid before.”

“I know that. You are a virgin, are you not?
I should not expect that you would prance around naked in front of
anyone.”

Taking a deep breath, she removed the
chemise, and faced him, feeling her nipples tighten in the cool
air, feeling his gaze on her. She sensed he’d stopped all movement
and stared at her.

“Is this how you want me?” She couldn’t keep
the taunt from her voice.

“Sit on the bed there,” he said, his voice a
growl. “I’ll position you as I want you.”

The idea of his hands on her, posing her,
sent a shiver of longing through her. Would his fingers linger?
Would he toy with her nipples, kiss her throat, pet her quim? Oh,
how she longed for him to pet her.

She moved to the bed by feel and sat upon it.
But his touch, when it came, was not gentle and caressing. No, it
was businesslike as he parted her legs, wide, hooking her knees
over each corner of the bed. His breathing changed and she wondered
if he wanted to touch her as much as she wanted him to.

“Put your hands on your knees, and keep your
back straight,” he instructed.

She did as he asked, so her breasts pressed
together between her arms, and then he gripped her chin, tilting it
to the side and down. He reached up to loosen her hair and pushed
it back over her shoulders, leaving her bare to him.

He said nothing as he dragged the chair
across and sat with a creak of wood. She heard the scratch of his
charcoal against the paper, heard him blow out a breath in
frustration, rub out what he’d done and begin again. She wished she
could watch him work, that he could trust her enough to let her see
him. If he was in a better mood, she might tease him into letting
her see. Instead, she wondered what irked him.

“Are you upset that I didn’t come yesterday?”
she asked at last.

He bit out a curse and she heard more
rubbing. “No.”

“You’re very quiet today.”

“This isn’t working as I expected.”

“Can I help?”

“No. Be quiet.”

She pressed her lips together.

“Not like that. I want them parted, as if you
know just what a man’s thinking when he’s looking at you, as if you
can’t wait for him to come to you and kiss you.”

His voice rolled over her skin and her quim
trembled. The way he drew in a breath told her he was aware of her
arousal. He was always aware of her arousal.

“Did you have an enjoyable time?” he asked
finally.

She had to stop herself from lifting her head
in surprise. She hadn’t told him she was going out for pleasure—she
merely told him she had an appointment. “I did.”

“I didn’t know you rode.”

Her pulse throbbed in her throat. “You saw
me? Did I see you?”

“Most definitely.”

Her nipples tightened inexplicably at the
knowledge that he knew her outside of this room, that he could take
what he knew of her outside of this room.

“Do you know Grayson Adams?”

“I do.” Now humor laced his voice and fear
sliced through her, cutting through her suspicion that they could
be the same man. If they weren’t, if they were only friends…

“You would never tell him what we do here.”
If they weren’t the same man, had Grayson seen the sketches
Monsieur Cresson had made? What would Grayson think if he knew she
spread her legs, displayed her body for another man?

“I would not. You’ve put your trust in
me.”

“And yet you’ve not put your trust in me,”
she pointed out.

“Maybe soon. Do you like him?”

“Grayson? He’s very charming. I admit to
being surprised by his interest.” She began to relax. She hadn’t
realized how accustomed she was to talking to him while he drew
her.

“Why? Are you not as fascinating in the real
world as you are here?”

His teasing tone made her blush. “Hardly, in
either world.”

“I find you so, and so must Grayson Adams.”
An idea occurred to her. “So may I ask him if he knows any Italian
painters?”

Monsieur Cresson coughed. “He does not know
me as such. Do not crease your brow.”

He fell silent after that, leaving her mind
to tumble from one thought to another, falling back on something
he’d said to her two days before.

“My maid informed me that the act we
witnessed the other day was not so out of the ordinary, that men
often drive a woman to pleasure with their mouths.”

“Yes, and often women take a man’s cock into
their mouths, if they do not want intercourse.”

“I cannot imagine a man wishing to perform
such an act.”

“It’s very erotic, and it gives a woman great
pleasure, more than his fingers would.”

“Do you do it?”

“I have done so in the past.”

“When you’re drawing me, do you think about
doing such a thing to me?”

“Yes, I imagine what your reaction would be
if I did it to you.”

“I want to know what it feels like.”

“Usually it is foreplay, and a man puts his
cock inside the woman afterwards, to relieve his own arousal. You
are a virgin. I cannot take that liberty.”

“You could put your cock in my mouth.”

He blew out a chuckle. “You would not know
what to do.”

“Lily told me what to do.”

He drew in a breath. “You discussed such a
thing?”

“I wished to know.” She parted her legs just
a little wider, so wet she could feel the moisture on the insides
of her thighs. “Please.”

She sensed his movement, then he brushed his
knuckles over her cheek.

“Then you will test what you learn on your
Grayson? Will that not shock him?”

“I don’t believe he will be as surprised as
you think,” she murmured, turning her face up until she could feel
his breath on her lips.

His hand moved back to stroke through her
hair, his fingers tangling in it a moment. “You are an uncommon
woman.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond before he
cupped his hand around the back of her head and covered her mouth
with his. His lips were dry and warm before his tongue swept over
her lower lip, sending sparks all along her body. He angled her
head and his tongue probed her mouth for a moment before he
straightened, his thumb still caressing her jaw. His ragged
breathing dusted across her skin and for a moment she feared he’d
walk away, but then his mouth was on hers again, harder, demanding,
and his hands were on her skin, bringing her body closer so that
the tips of her breasts rasped against the rough linen of his
shirt. She whimpered, craving more contact, and he groaned, his
hand sliding from where it caressed her bare spine to cup her
breast, his thumb rubbing the tip. The ache between her parted legs
intensified. No, just his mouth would not be enough to ease it, she
was sure. She edged her hips closer to the edge of the bed and
folded her legs about his. He made a sound in his throat as her
naked quim pressed against the front of his trousers. She could
feel the hard ridge of his arousal beneath the fabric and tightened
her legs to bring him closer.

He broke the kiss and brushed his lips along
the edge of her jaw as he lowered her to the bed. He shifted his
position so she could no longer rub against him. Instead, she felt
his knee against the inside of her thigh, felt the heat of his body
along hers as he braced himself over her. His mouth caressed her
jaw before moving down to her throat and she gasped at the
sensitivity of her skin, the roughness of his unshaven chin.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his fingers
pulling at her nipple as he repeated the caress of her throat.

Pleasure zinged through her, making her
mindless, and she arched her head back, offering him more. Every
part of her was sensitive, aching, wanting. The wetness between her
legs increased and she could smell her arousal in the air.

His mouth brushed her shoulder, then followed
the slope of her breast. He hovered over her a moment, his breath
hot against her skin and she lifted herself to him. He pulled back
a little, then covered her breast with his mouth, hot, wet,
pulling, and her quim twinged, wanting so much for him to fill her.
Instead he suckled at her breast, as if he’d been able to think of
nothing else, and she lost herself in the sensation until his
fingertips traveled over her thigh. Another pulse of arousal
slickened her sex, and then he was touching her, his fingers
parting her curls, sliding along the sensitive flesh, teasing the
place she wanted his cock before moving up to stroke over the
swollen nub that craved his caress.

She recognized the prelude to her pleasure
and pushed his hand away, though it took all her will-power to do
so.

“Your mouth,” she managed. “Your--”

She didn’t complete the thought before he
released her breast, spread her legs wider and dragged his tongue
along the little nub. She bucked and cried out, but not with
release, not yet. The tension in her body increased and he curved
his hands under her bottom, lifting her, spreading her before
parting his mouth over her sex, just as she’d dreamed. The tip of
his tongue teased her opening before tracing the delicate folds and
finding her clitoris, the little button she’d pressed the past two
nights to bring herself to completion again and again.

He circled the flesh with his tongue, and she
started to feel his fingertips at her opening, coasting back and
forth over it when she wanted him to touch inside her as she had
done. Then, as his tongue teased her button, his slick fingers
caressed her rose.

Shame warred with pleasure as he stroked and
probed, arousing nerve endings she hadn’t realized she possessed.
She moaned and pushed against his mouth, her climax sweeping
through her as he continued to lick and stroke her.

As her body shuddered with the remains of the
sensations, he lowered himself over her, his weight on her body
delicious. He kissed her mouth gently, sweetly, then rested his
head on her shoulder.

“You’re the most incredible woman I know,” he
said, without the trace of an Italian accent.

Chapter Five

Grayson realized his mistake too late when
Sarah whipped her head toward him, nearly striking his forehead
with her chin.

“Grayson?” she demanded, and before he could
stop her, she’d whipped off the blindfold and those dark brown eyes
stared straight into his.

And then she smiled, a smile so bright and
beautiful it took his breath away, before she rose over him, her
hands on his shoulders as she leaned down to kiss him. He thought
he heard her say, “I knew it,” before she captured his mouth with
hers.