Iris, blessedly, was completely oblivious to her discomfort.
“Now,” she said, all business, “we of course know that the human male tends to be driven by a healthy sexual desire.These portions of his anatomy are especially sensitive to such urges.”
Here, to Heloise’s further mortification, Iris began circling areas of the figure.Circle after circle appeared, with Heloise unable to take her eyes from the sketch.That area?And that, as well?She swallowed hard.Goodness.
“But while direct contact with these areas may garner the response you seek, it is prone to be short-lived.I assume you require the affair to continue at least until the jewelry is recovered, do you not?”Here she turned wide, curious eyes Heloise’s way.
“Er, yes,” she choked out.
With a nod, Iris turned back to the sketch.“Therefore, we must eschew these areas for the time being and focus on this particular portion of the anatomy.”Here she made a large circle around the entire head.
“I’m… not sure I understand,” Heloise said.
“His mind,” Iris replied, tapping the tip of her pencil against the head, leaving several dots of graphite there, giving the appearance of beady eyes watching her.Which made the whole situation even more unsettling.“You shall need to feed his ego.That is the one thing I observed during my short time in society that seemed to work to the best effect, the constant stroking of male egos.They appear to quite enjoy that, and it seemed the young women who were most successful at it found their mates the quickest.”She turned to gaze at Heloise with a smile.“Appeal to this base nature.Many men like to be made to feel superior.Flirt with him, feign helplessness, play to his ideal that he is of the stronger sex—though you and I know much better—and I am certain you shall find success.”
As Iris took her leave to convey to Strachan that the carriage should wait a while longer, Heloise bit her lip and returned to the pile of gowns.Flirt?Play to his ego?She’d never had cause to practice those things—she had gone from her uncle’s house to her husband’s house without so much as smiling coquettishly, her skills with sabre and foil seemingly much more important than anything else.
But was she to bat her eyelashes and simper andgiggle, for God’s sake?Her hands stilled on a forest-green gown as she blanched.Quickly recovering herself, she worked at pulling the gown over her head.She would do all that and more if it meant the difference between failure and success.Even if it killed her pride.Which, she thought wryly as she considered her reflection in the looking glass and tugged her bodice down as far as it would go, it just might.
7
The carpenters, as scheduled, were at Dionysus early the next morning, ready to begin building the boxing ring and seating for Mrs.Laney Finch’s upcoming match.As luck would have it, however, so was Mrs.Marlow.
Ethan stumbled to a halt just inside the event hall, eyeing the woman as she conversed with the head carpenter and feeling not a small dose of exasperation—as well as a disturbing amount of anticipation.Why anticipation, he didn’t have a clue.God knew she was already a thorn in his side, and he had not known her a full twenty-four hours.
They should, of course, be perfectly aligned in what they wanted from all this.They both were working to make certain the boxing match was successful, for Mrs.Finch’s and Dionysus’s benefit.They should be in complete accord.
Yet that was not what he sensed from her at all.Mayhap because he suspected she was somehow involved in the looming devastation to the club’s reputation, it felt as if she was more his opponent than anything.And if he was correct that she was up to something shady, he knew in his bones she would be a challenge.And he had not had a good challenge in a long while.
Again that anticipation, though sharper now.He narrowed his eyes, watching her as she inspected the planks of wood that ran the length of the room, her body moving with an easy grace as she maneuvered around the material.Strange, that.He had thought her graceful the day before as well.Why, then, had she tripped over apparently thin air and landed in his arms?
He recalled with a certain impressive clarity the exact feel of her pressed up against him.Mrs.Marlow was not some soft society matron, that was certain.Which he supposed was obvious, given she was working with Mrs.Finch.Yet he couldn’t help but think that managing a famed pugilist was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg when it came to Mrs.Marlow.
She glanced up then and spied him.And would someone tell him why his stomach twisted in the most disconcerting way when she smiled at him?
“Mr.Sinclaire,” she called out over the general din of craftspeople filling the space.With a long-legged stride she made her way to him.“Good morning.I trust you slept well and are ready for the day’s work?”
He scowled.Truly, it was the only expression he could think to use considering how disoriented he felt as his skin shivered more with awareness and his heartbeat pounded louder in his ears the closer the woman came.“I have not yet slept,” he responded, perhaps more curtly than was called for.“Lest you forget, Dionysus is open through the night.My hours are not typical.”
“Oh!Of course, how silly of me.”She blinked.Several times, in rapid succession.If he didn’t know better, he would think she was fluttering her eyelashes at him.And then she did something wholly unexpected—or, rather, another thing wholly unexpected, although he wasbeginning to think that going against predictable behavior was a normal phenomenon with Mrs.Marlow—and took his arm, pressing herself up against him.He reared back, startled, but she merely held on tighter, blinking rapidly in that myopic way, lips curled up in what he could only describe as a disturbing attempt at a smile.
“But you must be exhausted.How hard you must work.Do you live on the premises?Or if not, mayhap you wish to return to your lodgings.Do allow me to accompany you there, and we may talk on the way.”
He would later realize that it had taken him much too long to react to whatever the hell Mrs.Marlow thought she was doing.But in the thick of it all, with the woman attached to his arm like a limpet and gazing up at him with an expression that was at once determined and uncertain and frighteningly focused, he could not comprehend how he should react.And when the shock began to fade, he was dealt another jarring realization: that of just how wonderful her body felt pressed up against his side, most especially his arm, which was currently cradled in the valley of her breasts.He swallowed hard, painfully aware of just how pert and firm and yet incredibly soft they were as they hugged his bicep.Which led his attention farther down, to his forearm, where the faint curve of her belly was.Which drew his attention even lower, to the part of her that was pressed up against the back of his hand…
The staccato clatter of a plank of wood hitting the floor echoed through the room then, blessedly jarring him back to his senses.Pulling his arm forcefully from her grip, he took several healthy steps back from her.“Ah, er, there’s no need for that,” he said, stumbling over the words much more than he liked.Which, naturally, led him to scowlagain.Truly, this woman had the most frustrating effect on him.And he did not like it, not one bit.
“Like I said,” he continued, “my hours are not typical.I am ready to continue working.Which I must do if we are to complete the necessary preparation for the match.Now if you will excuse me.”
With that he quickly located the lead carpenter and headed his way.It was not until he had received the plans for the build from the man and was looking them over that he noticed he was not alone in his perusal.Over his left arm was Mrs.Marlow again.
Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes in a bid for patience before glancing her way.“Can I help you with something, madam?”
She smiled brightly.“Not at all.Please, pay no attention to me.”
Again he sighed.Though this time it came out a bit more aggressively than before, a sharp exhalation of breath, stirring the plans in his hands.“There is no need for you to remain,” he managed through teeth he was quickly threatening to grind to dust for all he was pressing them together so tightly.“I have things well in hand.”
She nodded enthusiastically.“Of course you do,” she replied in a breathy voice, her hand finding his arm again, fingers lingering on his sleeve.“I can tell you are quite adept at what you do.It is admirable, Mr.Sinclaire.Admirable indeed.”
