Impressed that she’d not only picked up on the role so easily, but was helping to deepen his own cover, Bull sniffed haughtily and peered down his nose at the portraits—a difficult challenge, what with the gallery being a dozen feet tall.
“I donotvind ze interestinoroforonzees stoopid paintings.” He turned his glare on her. “I am only here vor you, my love.”
Rosie’s smile bloomed, the same way it had on the dance floor. And fook him, but it made himfeelthe same way it did then too.
As if he could do anything.
Be anything.
“And you are the most wonderful man,” Rosie giggled again, pressing even closer for a moment so her breasts squished against his arm. “I am soluckyto be able to bid early!”
He made a point of dropping his gaze to the tops of her breasts, where they all but spilled from her costume—Christ, he really outdid himself with this design!—and allowed his lips to twitch in appreciation. “Vif my money, no doubt.”
As she giggled again, Madam Desiree cleared her throat, and Bull turned his haughty gaze back to her to find her smiling knowingly at the pair of them.
“I was under the impression, Baron, thatyouwould be bidding?”
That had been the point. The way the retired courtesan was looking smug—as if she’d figured them out—was also part of the plan. Rosie was playing her part perfectly, and Bull had no doubt that Madam Desiree assumed she was merely an attractive young plaything for a visiting nobleman, trying to milk him for all he was worth, or perhaps his steady mistress looking for an investment.
Either way, Madam clearly assumed the two women were about to play him.
“No, zank you,” Bull sniffed, glancing at the walls. “Zees are far too young to interest me.”
“Willhelm collectsmedievalart,” Rosie breathed almost reverently, eyes wide as she nodded. “You ought to see his tapestry collection!”
Bull nodded to the older woman. “Ze true art vorm.”
“To be completely honest,Iam the one who collects portraits,” Rosie confided to Madam Desiree. “And I fell in absolutelovewith one painting in your brochure. When dear Willy heard that, he promised me we could come and make sure I got it.” She wriggled her hips slightly and sent him a sly glance from under her lashes. “Of course, the naughty man made me work for it…”
Bull almost swallowed his tongue as Madam Desiree chuckled knowingly. “Yes, my dear, I understand that well.”
Of course she did; Madam Desiree was famous for having spent a lifetime as lover to various powerful lords. The thought ofRosieputting herself in such a position…
Which position would that be? Up against the wall? Bent over yer desk? In yer bathtub?
Oh, fooking shite.
This wasnotgood for the mission. Because once Bull got the image of Rosie—naked, wet, allrosy—in his tub, smiling welcomingly…he couldn’t think of a single other fooking thing. This place might have caught fire around him and he would have stood there, staring down at her, his lips curling lasciviously.
Part of him, the part which had been succeeding at this sort of subterfuge for years, reassured the rest of him that this was perfectly fine, and likely just made him look like a smitten lech. But considering thatrestof him was too busy wondering if Rosie’s nipples would be the same shade as her lips, and what they would taste like, the whole thing was a wasted effort.
Thank Christshe’dkept her head.
“Would you mind terribly showing us?” Rosie was asking Madam Desiree. “I absolutelymusthave the painting of the young woman in the garden with the blue gown and ruby necklace, and dear Willy said I may spendwhateverthe cost might be.”
Bull managed to pull his attention away from Rosie—breasts, breasts, breasts—in time to see genuine regret flash across the older woman’s face.
“The ruby necklace portrait, my dear?” inquired their hostess. “The one by the unknown artist?”
“Yes, that is the one!” Rosie said eagerly, bouncing a little—breasts!—in excitement. He worried she was playing the role of the scatterbrained young mistress a bit too heavily, but Madam Desiree was clearly buying it. “May I see it up close?”
“Oh dear,” the courtesan sighed, glancing at her gallery walls. “Of all the portraits…” She winced, then shrugged at the pair of them. “I am terribly sorry, Baron, but that painting was very recently purchased. I was offered far more than it was worth ahead of my auction, and I just had to sell it.”
Damn.
Had the blackmailer gotten to her before they could?
Bull squeezed Rosie, a silent warning not to break character, as he shrugged uncaringly. “Zis is not ze great loss, yes? Ze painting was no-sing to hang on my vall.”
