Nicole Jordan (14 page)

When she looked up to see Thorne had complied in baring his torso, her breath faltered. He was golden and glorious, she thought, admiring his strong, elegantly muscled body. She wondered if his flesh would be as hard and firm as it looked.

Alarmed by how badly she wanted to touch him to find out, Diana gave a curt nod. “Will you resume your pose, please?”

Casually he leaned against the bulkhead again and crossed his booted feet.

A long moment of silence followed while she deliberated how she would block out his portrait. Staring at the blank white canvas, she tried to visualize the image she wanted, the composition, the exact lines….

“I fail to comprehend why I cannot pose nude for you,” Thorne remarked at last. “You have already seen me in the buff when I was swimming.”

Diana’s gaze flew back to him. A wicked smile lit his eyes. He was teasing her, trying to provoke her again, she realized, feeling a flutter in her stomach.

She squared her shoulders. This Thorne was totally disarming and highly dangerous, yet she wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated. “I am interested in painting you for the sole purpose of training, nothing more.”

“But a torso is hardly adequate for your training, is it?”

She didn’t reply.

“I think you would find the rest of my body quite interesting.”

Instinctively Diana’s lips curved, but she repressed her amusement. “You obviously have an elevated opinion of your attributes, Lord Thorne.”

Thorne glanced down at his loins. “My attributes are not elevated at the moment.”

It took her several beats to understand his double entendre. “You are shameless,” she scolded, her tone exasperated.

“No doubt.”

“And highly provoking.”

“Most definitely.” A sultry smile spread across his mouth. “What must I do to persuade you to let me undress for you?”

His audacity knew no bounds. “Nothing,” Diana retorted firmly. “You could not possibly persuade me.”

“I’ll wager I could if I applied all my charm.”

She summoned a deliberate frown. “Do you know what your trouble is, Thorne?”

“What?”

“You have been thoroughly spoiled from the cradle. As a wealthy nobleman, you have been permitted to have your way much too often.”

“My father could dispute you.”

When mutely she returned her attention to the canvas, Thorne queried in a provoking tone, “Do you know what
your
trouble is, my sweet dragon?”

“No, but I expect you will enlighten me.”

“You’re afraid I will succeed in seducing you.”

“Will you turn your head a bit more to the left so that you look toward the porthole? I want the light to strike your face at a certain angle.”

“Is that all you mean to say? You are supposed to return my banter, perhaps a flirtatious smile.”

“I fear I must disappoint you. Flirting is not in my nature. And even if it were, I would know better than to encourage your outrageous remarks.”

Thorne shook his head sadly. “You are truly a challenge, love.”

“And you are truly a vexation.” She made her first brushstroke. “Perhaps we could debate the issue at some future point. For now, will you please keep quiet and let me concentrate?”

Obligingly Thorne fell silent. From that point on Diana was all business. She focused on her canvas, glanced up to scrutinize his body, then returned her bemused gaze to the canvas.

Pausing once, she crossed the small space between them and placed her fingers on Thorne’s jaw, positioning his head, then his right arm. Then without speaking, she went back to her work.

Thorne watched her with a sense of mingled pleasure and pain. His body had reacted instantly to her touch, but it was the sensual intensity on Diana’s face that had aroused him and made him hard. He’d never realized that painting could be such an erotic act.

He found himself cursing silently. Perhaps posing for her had been a mistake. He hadn’t anticipated that being her artistic subject would prove such temptation, that remaining so still while her gaze roamed over his body would only stoke his lust further.

She bit her lower lip as she applied each careful stroke of the brush, while her dark eyes had grown almost slumberous. Thorne had no difficulty picturing her in the throes of passion, just as he saw her in his dreams.

The minutes ticked by and became a torment. Standing in one pose for so long cramped different muscles in his body, but the ache in his loins was more excruciating. Even so, he didn’t want to interrupt Diana’s concentration, so he endured.

“Would you permit me a moment to stretch?” he said finally. “We have been at this for an hour or more.”

She glanced up, dismay on her beautiful features. “Oh, heavens, forgive me. I tend to lose track of time. Yes, please take a moment to stretch.”

Pushing away from his slouching position, Thorne shrugged his shoulders, circling them to ease the stiffness, then rubbed his arms to bring back the circulation.

“If I could have another half hour of your time,” Diana was saying, “I should have the main outline—Are you cold?” she asked, as if recognizing one source of his discomfort.

“My chest is a bit chilled,” Thorne admitted wryly, not admitting that his loins were still on fire. He threw her a provocative glance. “You could warm me if you wanted to.”

Her eyes widened at his suggestive remark before her mouth curled in exasperation. “But I don’t want to. Take one of the blankets from a bunk and wrap it around your shoulders. And go warm yourself at the brazier.”

“You are no fun.”

He did as she suggested, retrieving a blanket to drape around his shoulders, but then he moved toward her easel rather than the brazier. “May I see what you’ve done?”

“No! Certainly not.” Diana shifted to block the canvas from view, stepping in front of him. “I don’t like anyone looking at my work before it is completed.”

“Self-conscious, are you?”

“No, I just don’t want subjects advising me how to paint them.”

“Very well, I will wait. But I think I deserve a reward for posing there so obediently.”

He was standing very close to her now, and his gaze moved instinctively to her luscious mouth.

Diana gave a start, as if suddenly realizing the proximity of his bare chest, and she stepped back a pace. “I won’t kiss you again, Thorne, so you can just erase that thought from your lecherous mind.”

He feigned a wounded look, even though his mind had very much been focused on stealing a kiss from her. “You malign me. I wasn’t thinking of a kiss as my reward. More along the lines of a glass of wine.”

“Oh. Very well, help yourself.”

Thorne picked his way through various frames and bolts of linen on the cabin floor to the desk, where a decanter of wine rested. His ship was equipped with a number of little luxuries for its passengers, and he poured himself an ample portion of a fine Madeira.

“Would you care for a glass, love?”

“Hmmm?”

She had returned to her easel and forgotten him already. It would have been insulting had not Thorne become accustomed to the novelty by now.

Taking the opportunity for a respite, he pulled out the desk chair and sat down, watching Diana again as he sipped his wine. Her concentration was not quite so fierce just now, but instead was thoughtful and pondering as she applied a judicious brushstroke here and there.

Silence descended over the cabin once more. Other than the normal creaks of the swaying ship and the distant snap of canvas overhead, there was nothing to take Thorne’s mind off his painful physical condition. Eventually he asked a question merely to divert his lustful thoughts.

“Have you really never studied nudes? I thought artists learned to draw from nude models.”

“Most do,” she answered, her tone distracted. “But the Royal Academy has strict rules that serve as the standard for the artistic community. Only men are permitted to view nude models.”

“That policy puts female artists at a disadvantage, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Before that day in the cove when I discovered you swimming, I had never seen a naked man.”

“Not even your former suitor?”

There was a brief hesitation, as if Diana suddenly realized where the conversation had taken them. “No, not even him.”

“What was he, a prude? Did he make love with his nightshirt on?”

She fixed Thorne with a cool frown. “We never made love, if you must know.”

“Never?”

“Not ever.”

His eyebrow arched. “Do you mean to tell me you are still a virgin?”

“Well…yes.”

The delicate color that suffused her face told him she was embarrassed by her confession, or perhaps by the intimacy of his question, but he couldn’t regret asking.

She was still a virgin.

Thorne marveled at the revelation. For some unknown reason, it pleased him that she was still untouched.

His gratification was tempered, however, when another thought struck him: Diana knew nothing of the pleasures her body was made for.

In fact, it was possible she’d never had much pleasure in her life, sexually or otherwise. She herself had admitted that since the scandal of her elopement, she had hidden herself away in the country. Other than her art, her life might well have been monotonous and barren.

Thorne frowned. He was beginning to see more clearly what Diana had been up against. She had been branded a social outcast while the bounder who had betrayed her had gotten off scot-free. It was damned unfair.

“It seems rather inequitable that you alone suffered the consequences of your elopement,” he said softly.

Diana glanced down at the brush in her hand, unable to explain the sudden ache in her throat. She didn’t want Thorne’s pity, yet she was touched by his understanding. Society’s punishment had been reserved strictly for her.

And he had hit on a prime source of her resentment—being disgraced with none of the benefits. She had never made love, never known passion; in fact, she didn’t really know how to kiss well. It didn’t seem fair that she should be considered a fallen woman when she was really a virginal innocent. She had made one horrendous mistake—falling in love with the wrong man—and had paid for it ever since. Living her life alone, with no prospect of marriage or children. No husband, no lover, no real companionship.

Although she had refused to let herself admit it, she
had
been lonely, even before losing most of her remaining family. She had only Amy left, and Amy really was too young to offer much emotional support or sympathy.

She looked up to find Thorne watching her, his eyes soft with understanding. His expression made her throat tighten even further. He knew her darkest secret and yet didn’t condemn her for it. More touching still, he didn’t believe she had deserved the punishment that society had meted out to her. Even Nathaniel hadn’t defended her so unequivocally.

Swallowing hard, Diana averted her gaze. “I brought the scandal on myself,” she replied, trying to make light of Thorne’s sympathy.

“Did you?”

She managed a smile. “I am not a helpless, languishing female, Thorne. I take full responsibility for what I did.”

“No, helpless you are not. And you have my complete admiration. I could never have borne being imprisoned by society’s dictates, as you’ve been. Essentially being locked in a convent with no hope for redemption.”

When she fell mute, Thorne spoke quietly into the silence. “I’ve been called an expert at lovemaking. I could show you what you have missed.”

Diana’s gaze flew to his. He was entirely serious, she realized, seeing his somber expression. He wasn’t trying to provoke her or even seduce her.

For a wild, brief moment she even considered accepting his offer. The truth was, she hated being a spinster. Hated being at the mercy of rigid convention. Hated being alone.

She would indeed like to know what physical pleasure she had missed. She wanted to know passion.

Thorne could show her, Diana had no doubt. She remembered the incredible pleasure he had given her when he merely caressed her breasts that night.

He had made his desire for her perfectly clear. Even now there was something warm and exciting and flattering in the way he was looking at her.

His offer was so very tempting. She had never known a man like Thorne. His daring boldness was exciting. He seemed to take joy from life, to drink it in—a quality that was irresistible to a woman who had led the sheltered life she had. She’d never met anyone who was so vibrant and magnetic, so arousing to be near. She felt intoxicatingly alive in his presence; the dangerous edge of his sensual appeal was a potent elixir.

Diana squeezed her eyes shut. During her first betrothal, she had let herself dream of the kind of ecstasy Thorne promised. Longed for the shared passion between a man and a woman that could make them one entity.

She still longed for it, if she was honest with herself.

Yet she realized the total impossibility of indulging in an affair with Thorne. She had vowed to take control of her life, to embark on a new path, where she could savor the freedom that she’d been denied since her scandalous elopement. But she wasn’t wanton enough to throw aside all her ingrained morals.

Moreover, she had obligations. Certainly she had to think of Amy. She had to avoid any further scandal to keep from damaging her cousin’s chances for a successful comeout.

And if she took her intimacy with Thorne any further, she would no doubt suffer for it.

No, Diana reflected regretfully, no matter how tempting, the promise of fleeting pleasure was not worth the risk.

Reluctantly she shook her head. “Thank you—” Hearing the huskiness of her voice, Diana stopped and tried to compose herself. Forcing a careless smile, she began again. “I appreciate your kindness, Thorne, but I think I prefer to keep my virginity intact.”

He cocked his head, regarding her soberly. “I can bring you pleasure and still leave your virginity intact.”

She felt her eyes widen at that. “Truly? Is that possible?”

With a glance at the open cabin door, Thorne lowered his voice, as if to keep from being overheard by anyone who might be passing by in the corridor. “I needn’t penetrate your body with my flesh. Do you remember when I touched you that night on the bluffs? When I aroused you?”