“I did. I-I do.” She took another steadying breath and turned away from him. “But I’d much prefer to do so while you are fully clothed, if you don’t mind.”
“Pity.” He shook his head and smiled at her back. He was just trying to unsettle her, but when he noticed her peeking through her fingers, his masculine pride swelled markedly. Perhaps he would have gone through with it. Yes, she would be ruined. She would be all his, and he would have her — whether she wanted to be had or not.
“Shall we begin?” She still hadn’t turned back to face him. Most likely her face was scarlet with embarrassment.
“I’m ready when you are.” His voice was low, seductive, and coaxing.
Bridget shook her head, and an unruly strand of red silken hair fell out of her coiffure. She returned to the easel and set a new blank canvas on it. “Now, we both know you’re here merely to vex me and taunt my aunt. By all appearances, it will look like we’re courting, so you only need to stay for an hour or so.”
“And if I want to stay forever?” he asked taking a seat on the settee.
“Anthony—” She put her hands on her hips. “I choose to ignore your asinine insinuation. Please remember our bargain. Now, sit still so I can paint you.”
“With my clothes on,” he half-grumbled.
The canvas blocked her face, but he could have sworn he heard her giggle. “Yes, with your clothes on. And if you start disrobing again, I’m going to paint you with strawberries.”
“I understand.” His voice was laced with irritation. “By all means, paint my demise. Death by strawberry. It seems to be the theme of my life.”
Bridget sighed behind the canvas. “Fine. What would you like sitting next to you?”
Anthony chuckled. She shouldn’t have asked such a question. Her virgin ears were going to burn by the time he was finished with her. He cleared his throat.
“I desire to be lying across the settee, much like this.” He demonstrated. Bridget peeked around the canvas.
“Brilliant.”
“I’m not done.”
She sighed. “Naturally.”
“I should also like to be painted with a lady next to me.”
Bridget paused. “And this lady, dare I ask — what shall she be doing?”
Anthony laughed. “What all ladies do when in a compromising position. I’d like her to be kissing my neck, just here.” He pointed to his neck.
Bridget didn’t look.
“Bridget? You aren’t looking. How are you to know how to paint if you do not look?”
“I c-can imagine,” she stammered.
“No. I have seen your work when you aren’t looking at a model. And as a paying customer—” He paused to lay a farthing on the table. “I demand you look and give me what I ask for.”
Slowly, the girl peeked around the canvas, her face a brilliant shade of red.
“Right here.” Anthony pointed again. “And I should like her hair to be red. A vibrant red — wild like she is. Her eyes must be blue, for I find blue eyes to be the most entrancing. And her smile… truly, you don’t want to get me started on her smile.”
Her breathing became laborious as he looked at her and grinned. “The way this lady smiles is like the sunrise. I should like you to paint that for me, though I know it will be difficult… to paint perfection.”
“You’re a horrible flirt, Anthony.”
Anthony closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “I’m no more a horrible flirt than you are a horrible tease.”
“A tease?” She threw her paintbrush onto her palette and marched over to him. “How dare you say that, how dare you—”
“Ah, You are so very fetching when you are vexed, my lady.” He motioned for her to take a seat next to him.
Rolling her eyes, she let out an irritated huff before sitting down. “A tease?” she repeated.
“Making you angry is the only way I have discovered that will coax to come near me. Truly, I am desperate enough to try anything to force you to speak to me. Now, let us talk of the upcoming ball.”
“What about it?” Lady Bridget’s eyes darted to the ground, obviously irritated.
“Well.” Anthony scooted away to give her space. “We will need to seem more familiar to those around us. I, for one, shall call you sweeting, as well as Bridget.” Her name tasted like honey on his tongue. He had to clear his throat to mask the desire he felt in that moment. “And you should call me Adonis.”
“Surely we do not need pet names for one another—”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “I believe we do. And you cannot appear so irritated around me either. Nobody will believe you’re infatuated, especially my brother. Your aunt is quite another story. She’s going to be looking for any excuse to separate us.”
“I may let her.” Bridget sighed.
Anthony glared. “If you let her near me I’ll, I’ll—” Blast. Why couldn’t he think of a good enough threat?
“Stutter?” Bridget tilted her head and offered him a malicious smirk.
He cursed and shook his head. “I’ll simply attach myself to your person, like a leech, and we both know how much you enjoy my company.”
“Ah, finally comparing yourself to a similar species. Good for you.” She patted his knee then pulled back her hand as if burned. “I, um… I should get back to painting you. I mean, that is to say, I should be finishing your portrait, so if you could manage not to say anything offensive in the next hour or so, I’ll proceed.”
“By all means.” Anthony motioned to the easel. “I’ll try not to interrupt. Though it might be difficult. I can be quite distracting.”
“I am certain I can withstand your many charms, my lord.”
“Anthony,” he corrected.
“Anthony.” She blushed and returned to the easel. But not before Anthony took great pleasure in watching her hips sway as she walked back to her place.
****
Bridget knew she had to spend some time with him in order to hold up her end of the bargain, but his presence in her life was more of an inconvenience. It was nice to have a live model to paint for once, but if live was the only requirement, perhaps a rabid polecat would be preferable.
Not that Lord Maddox… er, Anthony, was entirely unpleasant to look at. In fact, he had a rather unsettling effect on her whenever he was near. His soft brown hair and golden emerald eyes drew her gaze like a moth to flame. She told herself it was only as an artist appreciating beauty. Nothing more than that.