DangerbyDalliance (6 page)

She strode through the house and into her small sitting
room. On the table was the latest copy of
The Daily Telegraph
’s travel
edition. A young man was following in Sir Richard Francis Burton’s footsteps,
recreating Burton’s journey exploring the South African lakes.

Sarah sank into the descriptions and details of the
environment, the animals and the people the young journalist had met. With each
word her longing to see these things with her own eyes grew deeper and deeper.
As she reached the final word she sank back in her chair and dropped the
periodical across her chest.

Her eyes closed and she imagined herself in South Africa.
She would be alone. Just a guide and a couple of porters. They wouldn’t know
her or have any contact with the people here in London, so she would not have
to wear the same constricting clothes she had to in polite society. Instead she
would be in light trousers, sturdy boots and a shirt. No corset, nothing to
constrain her.

Both Archer and Warren would be dressed in a simil—Sarah
shot up out of her chair. Damnation, now the two men even invaded her
daydreams. She exhaled and picked up an earlier edition of
The Telegraph
,
this one talking about parts of southern India, but the words didn’t hold her
attention.

Instead her imagination kept pulling her back to Africa,
wearing scandalous clothes and accompanied by the two men who dominated her
thoughts.

In her fantasy she didn’t wear a chemise and the cotton of
her shirt rubbed against her nipples.
With each step her heavy breasts
swayed a little, hardening the sensitive peaks even more.

Warren walked beside her. He wore no shirt. His light
skin shimmered in the sunlight peeking through the treetops. His strong muscles
moved fluidly with every step. Even though he strode an arm’s length away, his
look roamed over her like a touch. Moisture gathered between her legs.

Sarah came to an abrupt stop in front of Archer. He was
also shirtless, his tanned skin dark and his muscles bulging as if under
tension. Black hair decorated his chest and narrowed down to a thin line that
disappeared in his trousers.

She swallowed. Warren moved beside Archer, the two men
stood there before her like pieces of art.
She wanted to touch, but worried
her imagination would fail her. She’d never touched a man’s chest. Was his skin
as soft as hers or was it rougher? Would the dusting of hair be wiry or silky?

The moisture between her legs increased. Sarah undid the
fastenings on her dress and flattened her hand on her thigh. Her skin felt more
sensitive than usual. Slowly she stroked up her body until her hand cupped the
heavy weight of her breasts. She tugged at the fabric until she could lift her
breasts above the top of the corset. Her thumb rubbed across one tight nipple.

A shiver ran down her body.

She increased the pressure and grasped the tip between two
fingers. With care she rubbed them back and forth, her shivers growing more
intense. Her legs squeezed together, an emptiness building inside her, a need
she had no knowledge how to still.

She lifted her free hand to her other nipple and repeated
her actions. Tension jerked through her and she thrust her breast deeper into
her hand.

Her desire grew. It was as if she climbed a mountain, each
step getting her closer to the peak. She pressed down harder on her nipples and
rubbed her thighs together.

So close. So very close.

Sarah pinched her nipples.

For a second it was as if she would finally experience this
crest she’d read about, but then the raised awareness drained out of her and
she flopped back in her chair.

Angry and frustrated, she punched the arm of the chair.
Tears filled her vision, which made her angrier still. Every time she tried to follow
and explore these feelings she ended up like this.

With a growl she tidied her clothes, rose and marched over
to her desk. She had some correspondence to take care of.

And any and all thought of Archer and Warren and these
tingles across her body would be pushed into the furthest corner of her mind.
She had a task to fulfill. Nothing and no one would distract her from saving
her father and herself from complete ruin.

* * * * *

The next morning found Sarah grumpy and frustrated. She had
not slept well. The tension had remained in her body throughout the night. A
tension she had no idea how to dispel.

She had tossed and turned. Every time she dozed off images
of Warren and Archer taunted her.

No matter if she was awake or asleep, she couldn’t get these
two men out of her head. Never before in her life had she been unable to direct
her thoughts. This lack of control infuriated and frightened her.

Sarah rubbed her gritty eyes, rolled to the edge of the bed
and sat up. Shoulders slumped, she dropped her face into her hands.

If one short—supposedly introductory—sitting had turned her
life topsy-turvy, how on earth was she supposed to cope during a full session
with Warren? And he wouldn’t be alone. Warren had made it clear that Archer
would be present as well.

To support her.

What a joke. It was more likely that he would drive her
around the bend.

For goodness sake, Sarah Emma Rigdon, will you pull
yourself together?

The sharp voice reminded her of her gran. Cordelia Rigdon
would be ashamed of her and the way she let two men rattle her composure.

Sarah sat up straighter and lifted her chin.

This was not like her. She wasn’t the sort to cower and
allow someone else to dominate her thoughts.

She rose.

So what if Archer and Warren appealed to her femininity? She
was old enough to make decisions herself. Marriage was not in her future. She
had no dowry, nor connections.

But she could choose.

Sarah walked up to the full-length mirror beside her
wardrobe and pulled off her cotton nightgown. There she was in all her flabby
glory. Her heavy breasts tipped by light-brown nipples. Her skin pale with an
odd dusting of freckles here and there. Her thighs big enough there was no
space between them. The curve of her stomach, usually contained by a corset.

She had stopped looking at herself once she understood she
would never follow the latest beauty trend that called for girls to be tall and
slender.

But it appeared both Warren and Archer saw something in her.

Sarah frowned at herself. She honestly wasn’t sure what, but
she was curious to find out. All her life she had put what other people said
and thought about her and her father above everything else. She even hurt her
best friend because she feared the response if she supported Beatrice after her
outrageous, but necessary behavior.

And what for?

Her father would never grow up and take responsibility. She
would never have a family of her own.

Why did she still care what people thought of her?

What if, for once, she didn’t worry about all the possible
consequences, all the things that might happen? What if she trusted the moment
and actually enjoyed it?

Her shoulders slumped.

She couldn’t. If she did, something would happen. Something
that would cause society to ostracize her, thereby costing them the little
income her father received from tutoring.

They simply couldn’t afford it.

Sarah turned away from the mirror and stomped over to the
bathroom.

She could not allow this…this engagement with Archer and
Warren to go further than being a model.

Even if she wanted to.

As soon as Sarah stepped through the door Archer knew
something had happened. He’d only caught a glimpse of her yesterday after the
session, but there had been a softness to her, a weakening of the hard wall she
protected herself with.

But right now the wall was fully intact and higher than
ever.

Beside him, Warren muttered, “Fuck it!”

Indeed.

Whatever progress they’d made, they were now back to the
beginning.

Jennings took her coat. She turned to them, her expression
cool.

Her passion had been shoved so deep it was barely a flicker.
Her movements were jerky, like those of an automaton in need of oil.

Archer sighed and held back when Warren greeted her with one
of his rogue smiles and took her hands. “Sarah, so lovely to see you again.
Would you like some tea before we start?”

If he hadn’t watched her as closely as he had, Archer
wouldn’t have noticed the infinitesimal softening of her features. Maybe Warren
could pull down or at least weaken the barricade.

She pulled her hands from Warren’s and stepped back. “No
tea, thank you.” She turned and walked past him toward Warren’s studio. “Let’s
get this started.”

So much for her warming up to them.

Maybe raising her temper would break down the wall? She was
gorgeous when she was mad and it could pull her out of herself.

Archer met Warren’s gaze as they fell in behind her. Warren
shook his head. Archer swallowed what he had been about to say.

“Certainly, Sarah. Whatever you wish.”

She didn’t look back at them, but Archer imagined her
expression.

They marched into Warren’s workshop, a cold and silent
parade.

Sarah’s footsteps grew lighter, more hesitant. Pressure
built in Archer’s chest, bringing home his involvement. She halted beside the
Japanese screen and turned to face the men again. Vulnerability and a dash of
fear flared across her features. He was just about to speak up, to tell her he
would pay the money when Warren stepped on his foot. At the same time her lips
firmed and pressed together. Her chin rose and she strode behind the silk
screen.

“Archer, please close the blinds.”

Archer froze. Warren always painted in natural light. His
lover caught his eyes and nodded to the shadow moving around behind the screen.

Of course. It made sense that Sarah wouldn’t want the
windows open, no matter how private their garden. He followed the request and
moved into the shadows beside the sofa.

Sarah stepped out from behind the covering, her hand pressed
to her chest, holding up her gaping dress.

Archer gritted his teeth against the need to walk toward her
and tear off the flimsy covering.

“I would prefer not to look like most of Rubens’ ladies. Can
we cover—” She waved a hand before her. “Cover the more obvious areas.”

He swallowed his growl. He didn’t want her concealed by
anything, but this was not his call. And pushing too hard, too quickly,
wouldn’t help.

This would play havoc with his control, but he wouldn’t want
to be anywhere else.

Warren moved to her and took her free hand. “Sarah, we can
cover whatever you feel most comfortable with.” He lifted the hand and kissed
the back. “If I were a gentleman I would say to heck with it, I will paint you
as you are. But the artist in me is enamored with you. You are a challenge I
cannot wait to dive into.” He cupped her cheek. “Having you mostly unclothed
will show me that much more of who you are, of the woman inside you.”

Sarah made no attempt to move away from his touch. She
studied him. Warren didn’t know what she found, but some of the tension left
her. “All right.”

Warren stroked his thumb over her cheek. A slight flush
spread across it, the heat of it burning his palm, fanning the flames spreading
through his body. He smiled and let her go.

She cleared her throat. “What do I use?”

He shook himself, dragging his wandering thoughts back to
the here and now. He walked over to the shelves and pulled out a wide piece of
silk cloth that matched her eye color. “We can use this as cover.”

Her eyes widened, but she said nothing. Instead she took the
cloth and disappeared behind the folding screen again.

Warren looked at Archer. The desire burning behind his brown
eyes matched the need inside himself. He wanted to walk over there, tear off
Archer’s shirt and touch him while Sarah was in the same room.

Instead he took a deep breath and turned away.

He had painted nudes before, both male and female. But they
had either been lovers or experienced models.

The blue silk disappeared from where she had put it over the
screen. Moments later Sarah stepped out. She was pale as a ghost and had
wrapped the silk around her like a toga, with a knot over her shoulder.

Sarah paused and lifted her foot, showing him she still wore
her stockings. “I am sorry, the floor was rather cold. If necessary I can take
them off.”

Warren threw his hands up in the air. “Oh my Lord, I am so
sorry.” He rushed across the room and cranked up the steam radiator Archer had
made him for just such an occasion. It clunked to life. “The room will warm up
quickly.”

He took her hand and guided her to the center of the room.
He desperately wanted to pull the pins out of her hair and have it frame her
face naturally, but she was back to imitating an automaton. Warren didn’t
imagine that she wanted to undress something else.

“Stand here, as comfortably as you can.”

She did, but her whole body was as tense as wood. No way
would she be able to hold a position for any length of time. “Sarah, please
relax. As I mentioned yesterday, posing can be very strenuous, and tense
muscles ache that much faster.”

She gulped and lowered one hand, leaving only the other to
press the fabric over her breasts. She had to relax the fit of the cloth
slightly to be able to move and Warren caught a flash of her smooth thigh.

He forced himself to refocus his attention. “Would you like
help?”

She shook her head, but when she tried to realign the cloth
the knot came undone. The silk slipped down her chest. She’d wound the fabric
so tightly that it refused to be hoisted back upward.

“Sarah.” Warren rushed over and grabbed one of her shaking
hands. He caught the slipping fabric around her hips. Her breasts were
beautiful. Full and firm, tipped with light-brown nipples. The cool air in the
room hardened them.

The gentle curve of her stomach, the strong lines of her
hips mesmerized him.

Warren let the rest of the silk drop.

She whimpered, but he stroked her hip to calm her.

Below the curve of her stomach her pubic hair was a shade
darker than the hair on her head. Her legs were pressed together, the full
flesh rubbing against each other. Her stockings covered her knees and drew the
eye back up to the soft and pale flesh of her thighs.

She was Venus come to life.

Without looking away, he patted around until he found his
pad and a piece of charcoal.

Sarah made a move as if to pick up the cloth surrounding her
feet, but he hissed. “Don’t move.”

She froze.

His pen flew across the page, desperately trying to capture
every curve, every line, all at the same time. At the back of his mind he
vaguely noticed her breathing was shallow and uneven and her muscles were
clenched. He wanted to reassure her, ease her tension, but the artist had taken
over.

All that was important was to capture the goddess before him
on paper.

She wanted to hurry back behind the protection of the
screen, but every muscle had frozen in humiliation.

Here she was, on display, the supposed covering draped
across her feet. Much good it did her there. Everything that she kept hidden
was out there for the world to see. Every lump and bump, every flabby piece of
flesh.

Visible not only to Warren, who appeared to be completely
lost in his artist’s process, utterly unaware to the world around him. His gaze
had sharpened into spotlights. Unlike yesterday, his hands moved with blinding
speed. He went through paper as if it would go out of fashion any moment now.

She swallowed.

There had been no disgust in his expression. Not yesterday
when her underwear had covered her, nor today with her whole body revealed. His
sensuous lips were pressed together, but there was none of the curl she’d
sometimes capture out of the corner of her eyes on other faces when she walked
past.

Did he really mean his words? Was she beautiful to him?

Something deep inside her opened the tiniest bit. Sarah had
never understood why everyone was so obsessed with looking a certain way. A way
that had been decided by only a few. Sarah had always tried to tell herself
people were individuals with their own kind of beauty.

But every time someone made a snide comment or gave her that
look, advising her to eat less or to exercise more, telling her how Rubenesque
she was with the smirk that made it obvious it wasn’t a compliment, it shook
her confidence. With every remark the people around her told her nothing was as
important as her appearance. After years of this, Sarah’s self-worth had become
linked to her weight.

For the first time in ages she looked at herself with her
own eyes and not those of society.

The tight grip inside her eased a little more.

The dark-brown look burning into her side from the dim
corner of the room supported her epiphany. She couldn’t see Archer completely,
but even from the shadows his eyes blazed with fire. He didn’t appear to
disapprove of her appearance either.

Her muscles began to ache. Her calves began to burn. Sweat
gathered between her breasts, on her temples and upper lip.

The steam radiator, minutes ago so welcome, now boiled her
alive.

She trembled, struggling to maintain the pose. Standing
still for longer than ten minutes was far more difficult than she had imagined.
Yesterday Warren’s travel stories had catapulted her into a different world.
Today he was too busy. She wanted to shake her limbs to stop the numbness from
spreading, but she didn’t dare to interrupt his utter focus.

Sarah pushed through the discomfort by studying the men.

Warren was in his own world. In some ways he reminded her of
her father, his focus and concentration on his work. But unlike her father
Warren had the ability to pay attention when he was not in this state.

She realized he hadn’t added his alarm to his wrist today.
There was no clock inside the studio and she’d lost all sense of time.

Before she could speak up and raise the issue Archer did.

“Break time.” He walked out of the shadows and pulled a
black robe from the top of the sofa.

The magic of the moment collapsed around Sarah. The
protection of being a model vanished. Embarrassment filled her cheeks. She
studied her toes when she took the garment from him.

Warren growled when she moved.

Sarah flinched and held the fabric before her body.

Archer appeared beside her, resting his hand on her
shoulder, his thumb rubbing across her tense muscles.

Her nipples tingled. The now-familiar tension that came with
being in their presence spread across her.

She didn’t want to step away.

“Don’t worry. While he is like this there is no talking to
him.” Archer turned her until her back was to him and began to massage her
shoulders.

A blazing heat burned her insides to ashes. It was
unbearable and at the same time the most amazing sensation she’d ever
experienced.

She stepped forward and slipped into the robe. “Thank you.”

Sarah hungered for more of his touch, but if she wanted to
survive she couldn’t allow it. She had to be strong.

Archer balled his fist, the memory of the softness of her
skin burning in his brain. His cock was rock hard and the desire swirling
through him nearly drove him to his knees. Watching her goddess body from the
shadows had cost him.

His need to touch, to caress her luminous skin, had grown
with every moment he’d watched.

When he finally laid hands on her he had to grit his teeth
against the drive to pull her close. For a second she had leaned into him. But
then the walls had shot up again and she’d pulled away.

Numerous times he’d now thought that Warren and he were
breaking through, but something kept raising her defenses.

And he didn’t know how to remove this something.

“Time!” Warren barked. He’d risen from his position on the
floor and now waved Sarah back to her spot.

She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before
following Warren’s order. Gone were the jerky movements of before. Now she
moved with grace, her beautiful breasts shifting beneath the silk with each
step, her nipples clearly outlined against the fabric.

She stopped before Warren and with a tilt of her chin untied
the belt and let the robe slide down her shoulders.

Sarah stood before them with nothing covering her.

She was gorgeous. But it wasn’t just her physical beauty
that held him entranced. Her inner strength expressed by her stubborn jawline,
her courage and the inferno burning inside her drew him close.

Archer stepped behind her and picked up the robe. She
remained tense, but didn’t flinch when he caressed her nape. He exhaled and
stepped away, leaving artist and model to their art.

Archer walked from the room.

He needed a moment. He also wanted to fetch water and a
light snack for Sarah. Before today he had never assisted Warren with a model,
but his lover had mentioned how exhausting and straining the work was. He
checked his pocket watch. The first session had lasted close to thirty minutes.

He nodded to Jennings and the cook as he filled a tray with
a pitcher of water, chilled by his cooling machine, as well as some fruit. He
walked back, forcing himself to move with measured steps and not to hurry.