“Miss Wilcox.” A long breath escaped his lips. “I’m at your disposal, but I don’t think I can . . . we can’t do what my friend said.”
His cryptic words sounded very odd, and Lord help me, I became Lydia, curious as to what he meant and willing to go very far to oblige a needed laugh. “I can’t help you unless you’re clear. Tell me what you’ve been instructed.”
His cheeks burned, far past garnet. They’d soon darken to the color of my favorite gloves, berry. He came close to me. “The gentleman said a professional woman would meet me in the garden. The woman, a courtesan, would draw out my creativity like a muse . . . Forgive me, I’m very nervous.”
This fool thought I was a courtesan. This was an insult.
I blinked and readied to slap him, but the fellow seemed like he was about to faint. “What did your friend tell you to do when we met in the garden?”
“Something about kissing quickly to ward off my nerves. Livingston said you’d give me confidence. He claims that you will free my creativity. But that won’t happen. I’m far too nervous.”
“Am I not what you expected, sir?”
“Mark, Mark Sebastian. You’re one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever beheld. There’s a painting at Kenwood. I’m in love . . . I’m rambling again. All I know is you should never be a courtesan. You’re an angel with a heavenly voice and face. Don’t do something for money that will destroy who you are.”
Oddly, his fight to save me was dear. It had been a long time since anyone cared enough to make a fool of themselves for me or one of my sisters. I decided being mistaken for a courtesan wasn’t as bad as a man thinking me too good to be sullied.
He came closer and put my hands delicately in his. “Yet, if one must buy your attention, I’ve no doubts that a moment with you is priceless and that I’ll wish to see you again and again. One time, one temptation, wouldn’t be enough.”
Oh.
Didn’t know what to say. But with Katherine coming my way, gawking, how could I resist embarrassing her?
“Well, sir. Your luck has changed. As this is my first moment in this new profession, I’m offering samples.”
I took his cravat in my fingers and towed the willing gentleman into a kiss.
Chapter 9
MARK—SOMEKIND OFTROUBLE
Heaven.
Evergreen bushes sprouting yellow and white buds surrounded me . . . us in the garden of Eden, otherwise known as 21 James Street, the Duke of Torrance’s in-town residence.
The full lips of a woman, delicious and smooth, enticed my soul.
She was a bird, a lovely greenfinch, with a song that began to free notes in my mind.
I was lucky.
A goddess had come down to me. I had to protect her, covet her as I had Dido and all the other treasures in my life.
Miss Wilcox couldn’t be a courtesan. I couldn’t share her.
I, Mark Sebastian, had known passion. I’d been foolishly in like, not love.
This was different.
Her kiss fired my flesh to flames and burned to ashes the walls blocking my creativity. All my nerves and worries were made to hum. The composition in my head—I could feel it getting unstuck as I felt her curves molding to me, submitting. And so was the stanza.
My pulse metered the rhythm, faster and faster.
This kiss, this waist in my arms melted the impasse. The first quarter notes—I saw them and could add them to my sheet music.
I heard the next notes in my ear.Dadum. Dadee.
Miss Wilcox could be my muse.
