A soft knock heralded Jane’s entrance, and her friend came to sit beside her. “More flowers?”
The room was dim do Rachel handed the tiny bouquet to Jane. “Do you know what these are?”
Taking the flowers to examine them, Jane’s brows darted up just as her mouth slipped open. “Oh my…”
“So, you do know what it means,” Rachel asked. “Please tell me.”
Hesitantly, Jane asked, “Are you sure that you want to know? If I tell you, it might change everything…”
***
In his quarters, William dropped the stubble of a pencil and looked at the chaos he had just created. Rachel stared at him from a dozen sheets of paper, her head in different angles, the look in her eyes going from innocent and pure to wicked and wanton.
He knew she had not looked at him that way in the garden, but by peering into her eyes, he had gotten the glimpse that she could be. It was not suitable for him to fantasize and dream about the innocent lady, not when she was ten years younger than him and an ingénue to worldly pleasures.
And she is going to be married off soon—do not forget that.
He should not be feeling this level of attraction to Rachel. Still, he knew she had driven the desire deeper inside him because of how she had passionately stated her desire for adventure and romance.
When he had held her face in his hands, he had not mistaken the flicker of heat and attraction in her eyes. The way her bosom had risen and fallen when he had closed in on her had solidified the notion.
Though she might not have recognized the signs of attraction her body was giving her he did. If he had not held onto his control, he would have taken her pillowy lips with his, and God only knew where they would have ended.
While desire thrummed through his body, and though he desired Rachel, he knew that he could not offer her anything she could ever want. She was the daughter of a Duke—he was a poor artist. But knowing that had little effect on his emotion—he wanted her.
Sagging into his seat, William rubbed his forehead with his free hand. It felt so tempting, so titillating to know that he would be her first kiss, her first erotic touch. He did not dare to think of the other first he could give her, but that was a dangerous road of thought.
But the image prodded at him in bed. What would she look like, freed from all the notions drummed into her that letting your desires out was a bad thing? How would her eyes look, glimmering and bright with raw desire?
Would she blush red when he stripped away the layers of her horrid, unflattering dresses? He supposed he would only have to wait and see.
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Chapter 5
He fancies me. William likes me… he likes me as a woman.
The apple blossoms' blooms were wilting, and while Rachel knew what they meant, she was not sure what to do about it. How could she go on to sit for him, knowing that he appreciated her, otherwise from being his subject?
She had never had the attention of a man before and it both titillated and scared her. Rachel did not have the first inkling of what to do if—or when—he verbally uttered those words.
“My Lady,” Jane said quietly. “It is time for your sitting with Mr. Smith.”
Unready to meet him, but with no excuse not to go and sit with him, Rachel stood, but before she went to the solarium, she tucked the spring of the apple-blossom into the button hole of her dress.
Upon stepping in the room, she found that William was there already, his hair pell-mell and wild, flopping into his eyes and curling around the collars of his wide-necked shirt. His sleeves were billowy and were buttoned at his wrist, while a strange red cloth was wrapped around his waist, its fringed ends dipped to the floor.
“Lady Hampton,” he bowed at the waist. “Good morning. I hope you have rested well?”
“I have,” Rachel replied. “And you?”
“A sleepless night of utter creative chaos that I do not regret in a moment,” William said happily. “But even without rest, I am fully capable of finishing your first portrait.”
Taking her seat against the window, Rachel tried to get herself back in the position she had taken before. Still, even with William’s direction, she found that she could not.
With a smile, he came to her, his fingers light but firm when he turned her face to the right angle. His eyes dipped to the sprig of apple blossom in her lapel, and his smile took on a sultry edge.
“I take it you know what this means as well,” he whispered.
