How To Distract a Duchess by Mia Marlowe Read Free Book Online

determination against just such a reaction.
    Then she looked up, the disdain on her pouty lips reminding him how little she thought of him and his erection shriveled.
    That’s for the best, he thought as he went to collect his helmet and gladius.
    “No, no props today.” She stood to adjust her easel. “I only want to capture your basic lines without any distractions.”
    No distractions? The woman herself was a walking distraction. He’d bet any amount of guineas she didn’t know how the light behind her diffused through her thin morning gown, rendering it nearly transparent. He could see the outline of her shapely legs quite clearly. For one who prided herself on keen observation, she didn’t look to herself very often.
    Or maybe she did. Maybe she was completely aware of the allure of the unobtainable and used that knowledge against her models with sadistic ruthlessness. Was she certain none of the base-born fellows she employed would dare raise so much as their eyes toward her, even though their rampant cocks showed no such reticence?
    “Mr. Doverspike, whenever you’re ready, we can begin,” she said evenly. “I seem to recall your claim that you were not shy, so if you please . . .”
    She let the command dangle unspoken in the air. Trev began to mentally count backward from one hundred in an effort to maintain control over his body. He drew off the robe and let it fall to the floor.
    Her green gaze slid over him, critical and unflinching. He forced himself to breath normally, counting backward from one hundred to master his responses.   99, 98 . . .
    Did she feel anything at all when she looked at him? Even the slightest flicker of desire? Or was he just a sentient bowl of fruit as far as she was concerned, an interesting problem for her to resolve in lights and darks?
    “If you find the studio too chilly, I can ring for Cuthbert to stir up the fire,” she offered.
    “No, I’m fine, thank you.” The idea of another person, even a servant, witnessing his struggle to master himself was too distressing to contemplate. He welcomed the slight chill in the room at this point.
    89, 88, 87, . . . Her gaze dipped to his groin, and he ground his teeth. 83, 82, . . .
    Her brows drew together in a frown as she bent to her work. The scooped neckline of her morning dress fell forward, giving him a clear view of the hollow between her breasts. He flexed his fingers, trying to banish the thought of plunging them into her bodice to explore the luscious peaks and tender valley.
    76, 75, . . . Despite his best efforts, his body roused to her.
    “I’m most pleased to see that you’ve become accustomed to my presence,” she said without looking up from her renderings. Then she turned her penetrating gaze on him. “Oh!” The hint of a satisfied smile twitched her lips as she flicked his erection with a fleeting glance before returning her attention to her sketchpad. “Well, give it a bit more time and this will all seem quite normal to you.”
    “Care to wager on that?” he murmured between clenched teeth.
    She appeared not to have heard him for she continued scratching her chalk over the paper with deft, sure strokes.
    “For someone who hasn’t much to say now, you certainly were quite talkative in the garden.” Her eyes flashed back at him, this time with repressed irritation. “Since my father fell ill, we’ve tried to speak to him in sensible ways, even when he made little sense in return. Perhaps you thought you were being kind by indulging in fanciful word play with someone whose mind wouldn’t know the difference—“
    So she’d overheard the exchange of code between him and Angus Dalrymple. Whatever else may have slipped her father’s mind, he still responded to the set phrases of the Corps properly. Trev didn’t want to endanger her by revealing the true nature of his conversation with her father, so it was best to let her imagine what she would of him.
    Even if it was the worst.
    “Let me advise