An Invitation to Sin by Suzanne Enoch Read Free Book Online Page B

then—"
    "No," he cut in, his face darkening as he faced her again. "It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. This"—he gestured at the wall of paintings—"well, you have to admit, it's a bit unusual."
    Caroline drew her shoulders straighter. "Not to me, my lord."
    With a slow breath, he nodded. "Of course not. My apologies once again." Giving her another tight look, he turned for the door.
    Blast it all . Uttering a dismayed curse as her hopes strode for the exit, Caroline scrambled to beat him to the door. "I… Don't go, my lord," she squeaked.
    He stopped. "What?"
    If you leave, I have to become a governess . "This was obviously just a silly misunderstanding," she offered, forcing a chuckle. "We're both adults. Let's begin again, shall we?"
    One curved eyebrow lifted. "You're not serious?"
    Caroline made herself smile. "Unless you'd rather we had a duel out in the meadow over a kiss."
    A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. "No. I'm actually fairly good with weapons, and I'd hate for you to win and humiliate me."
    She snorted. At the sound she blushed and covered her mouth and nose, but Lord Zachary laughed again. Caroline took a deep breath. Back to professionalism, before it was entirely too late. "Then we're agreed. We'll begin again."
    "Agreed." He returned to the back wall of the conservatory. "How long have you been painting?" he asked, following the sequence of work.
    "Since I can remember. Some of those aren't very good." She felt her cheeks, already heated from his kiss and his near escape, warm even further. She didn't normally feel the need to defend her work, but since she was scrambling to regain her professional standing with him, it seemed important that he knew she wasn't just a dabbler in paints. "My earliest ones have all the emotion and depth of a tree stump," she continued.
    "Then why do you keep them about?"
    Her sisters repeatedly asked her the same question. Coming from him, though, it sounded different—not that he couldn't believe she would keep her failures in view but that he was genuinely curious as to why she did so. "They remind me that I've improved, that it's a process, and that I learn from experience—and from my failures."
    "You have improved," he noted, gesturing at one of her most recent portraits, one she'd done of her father. "This is quite good, in fact."
    "Thank you." She'd heard that before, too, though the compliment was usually followed by something conditional, like she painted well for a female. He'd already called her hobby odd. "You've studied art, then?" she couldn't help asking.
    "Some. More than my family probably realizes, anyway." With a slight grin he turned around, facing her again. "There aren't any paintings of you."
    "There's actually one, in the hall behind the drawing room." She scowled. "I don't like it very much, but Papa insisted that there be one of each member of the family or he wouldn't hang any of them."
    "So you capture all of your guests and ask to sketch them?"
    He stepped closer again, and that same tightness in her chest started once more, constricting her breathing. "Yes. To sketch them," she emphasized. "Nothing more."
    "Then sketch me," he said, gazing down at her. This time she saw humor in his gray eyes. "Where do you want me?"
    Caroline blinked. So far, so good, despite the fact that she'd been half ready for him to kiss her again. "Um, by the window, I think, to begin with. This is just preliminary, so I can try different poses."
    "I am at your disposal. Standing, or sitting?"
    "Standing is good." Renewed excitement and anticipation flooding through her, she collected her pad and pencils, then pulled her stool toward the middle of the floor to get a better angle. "Perhaps you could gaze out over the field."
    "Should I put a hand to my eyes, as though I'm overseeing my vast domain?" he suggested, demonstrating.
    She snorted again before she could stop herself. Stop it, Caroline. Act like a blasted professional before it's too late . "Whatever