“Always,” Clive confirmed.
“Come, madame,” Terese said to Élisabeth, “I’d like to introduce you to a mutual friend of ours.”
The two ladies drifted away toward Lord Langley, who had eyes only for Terese.
“They have gone so that we can talk,” Clive said, his large presence hovering over Giselle, his hand to hers. “I missed seeing you on the beach this morning. I went out alone. Bella had a nightmare and a cough.”
“Oh! Is she well?”
“Better. The spring air, we have learned, aggravates her throat. But she recovers.”
“And you?” she asked, dissolving into a haze of desire with the way he looked at her. “You are well?”
“I am now, to see you. I was up for hours and slept late. Did you not go walking this morning?”
“I went as dawn broke.”
“Is that as refreshing as later, when the sun kisses the surf and sand and rocks?”
She rolled a shoulder, smiling. “You know my preference.”
“Of course I do. I saw you that first day we met. To look at you was to understand all you enjoy.”
His words were as mellow as his expression—and she watchedhow his full mouth formed words. The man had lips a woman would savor. Firm and plush, wide with a smile now.
“What is it?” he asked her, nigh unto a whisper. “You conquer me with a look.”
She dragged her eyes up over his flesh, his straight aquiline nose, the wide arch of his brows, the almond shape of his gray, long-lashed eyes. “You are the devastating one, sir. Perfection for a portrait.”
Somehow, someway, he took her elbow, his fingers gliding to her waist. He was all light and humor—and her every breath yearned for his nearness. “I’d give the earth for one of you.”
Complimented, she wished to be the only woman he ever wanted. “A high price for a painting that I could never let you pay.”
He stepped so near, she inhaled his bergamot cologne and his abject devotion to his promise. “I would. Let me.”
His whispered words swept through her like an elixir. Her mind was filled with a golden vision of what it would be like to be loved by this man. Deft yet ravishing, he would consume her…and she would let him.
Let him. Match him. Enjoy him.
She cast around for sanity and something to proclaim to him. “I have not known such praise…or such an invitation to rapture.”
He toyed with a frown, beneath which stood a scorching-hot smile. “With me, you would know it all.”
He meant capable of love.
Torn between having him and rejecting all he offered, she fought with herself to deter him. “I tried years ago to do a self-portrait. It was a disaster. I honor others by never attempting their portrait, either. One must know one’s limitations and stick to one’s skills.”
“What are your skills, then?” He was all curiosity and light, accepting her turn of conversation to a topic less intoxicating. “Tell me who and what you are.”
“Ah. Well.” He was not to be waylaid in his pursuit. But she wouldsee him held in abeyance and stuck to practicalities. “When I have time? Cooking. Roses and tulips. Landscapes.”
“Ah.” A flicker of darkness flashed over his features. “Pastorals, or what? Seascapes?”
“Oui, both.”
“I should like to see them.”
“They are not worthy of examination, sir.”
