An Uncommon Duke. Laurie Benson

note of the position of her arms.

      His grin widened, and he moved a strand of hair away from her face. ‘My sketch guides me. You are always quite accommodating with all my poking and prodding. Once we are finished for the day, you may jerk my body into any complex tangle of your choosing.’

      That created an amusing image and she closed her eyes again. ‘What a capital notion! Now if you don’t grant me the breaks I require, I will devise painful retribution.’

      ‘My, what a bloodthirsty duchess you are.’

      The sound of his chalk scratching as he drew eased some of her tension. ‘Are you certain I do not appear large to you?’ she asked, trying to imagine what the sketch looked like.

      Chuckling, he continued to draw. ‘You are far from large. Although even if you were, it would be of no concern. Men enjoy curves on a woman. It gives us something to hold onto when we are in the throes of passion.’

      ‘Then I believe I have so many places for a man to hold onto, he would be at a quandary where to begin.’

      He laughed again. ‘I know where I would begin.’

      How she wished she could turn her head and peak at his expression. ‘Where?’

      ‘I am sketching it right now.’

      ‘Well, that was not very forthcoming.’

      ‘No, it was not.’

      Olivia began to laugh.

      ‘Do not move,’ he commanded.

      He adjusted the folds of the silk by her thigh. She bit her lip and prayed he didn’t notice the catch in her breath at the unexpected contact.

      ‘You have the kind of body that tempts men to steal a touch.’ He moved her left arm a fraction of an inch.

      Olivia opened one eye to study him. They had known each other for more than a year. Not once, in all that time, had he exhibited any form of inappropriate behaviour with her. Even now, she knew he saw her only as an object in his painting. He must be attempting to make her feel at ease, since she was sprawled out over his divan in a most unrefined pose. She was well aware what her body looked like and, as she had discovered from her recent encounter with Gabriel in her bedchamber, tempting was not how she would describe it.

      ‘So what exactly is one to interpret from this pose?’ she asked, fighting the urge to scratch her nose.

      ‘It is the pose of a woman who has just reached complete fulfilment,’ he replied as if discussing the weather.

      Olivia raised her head and stared at him aghast, unable to voice a response.

      ‘You must stop moving,’ he yelled. ‘This will be a masterpiece of movement and light. But each time you shift, you force me to readjust the folds of your gown. I cannot sketch you in a timely manner if I have to continually walk over there.’

      She rested her head back down and tried to move her head into the exact position he had placed it. Manning readjusted it a fraction of an inch and then adjusted the hair cascading over her breasts.

      He raised his eyebrow at her and pointed his chalk at her in warning. ‘Do. Not. Move.’

      ‘Fine, but I honestly do not believe anyone would be interested in seeing how I look after...well, after...’ Olivia was certain she could not blush any deeper than she was. ‘I am not the best subject for this. You should have asked someone younger. Men would find that much more enjoyable to look at.’

      ‘You believe you know us that well?’ The sketching resumed.

      ‘There are many beautiful girls you could have chosen.’

      ‘True—however, I am not interested in girls. Their innocence colours their sensuality. A woman with experience in the activities of the bedchamber has an innate sensuality that is apparent to any man over the age of sixteen.’

      ‘I am not sensual.’

      ‘Of course you are. It’s in the way your body moves and the way your eyes acquire a wicked glint, as if you know the secret of bringing a man to his knees.’ His voice was so calm and nonchalant.

      ‘So you really prefer women of my age?’

      ‘And older, but if you tell that to any of the young women that sit for me, I will deny it.’

      Managing to laugh without moving a muscle, Olivia considered what he said. She had spent years after their estrangement wondering what Gabriel found attractive. The notion of what other men preferred never entered her mind.

      * * *

      When he finally broke the long stretch of silence, it felt as if hours had passed. ‘I am almost finished with my preliminary sketch. Have any parts of you lost all sensation?’

      ‘My right arm is beginning to grow numb. This really is an indulgent pose. I believe I may have dozed for a few moments.’

      ‘I believe you did. Your breathing became quite rhythmic.’

      He approached her side, then rubbed her right arm. The warmth and pressure felt heavenly.

      ‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’ bellowed a deep, angry voice from the other end of the room.

      Olivia jerked her head towards the doorway and closed her eyes, pretending her husband was not standing there looking as if he wanted to toss them both out the window.

      Manning groaned at her movement and stared daggers at the imposing man who had interrupted their sitting. ‘Who are you to intrude in my studio, sir?’ he asked.

      ‘I am her husband. Now take your damn hands off her.’ Gabriel’s voice was commanding with no room for negotiation.

      Manning backed away, raising his hand in surrender. ‘I am simply adjusting her body for the portrait.’

      ‘I know of no respectable portrait that requires such a pose.’

      She would not move her body to inconvenience her friend. ‘What are you doing here?’

      Gabriel’s fiery gaze shifted to her. ‘I had an appointment not far away. I thought I would escort you home.’

      How could he possibly have known where she was? And, why in the world would he want to escort her home?

      ‘I believe your sitting is over for the day, Duchess,’ Gabriel commanded.

      ‘Nonsense, there is still more to do. Isn’t that correct?’ She turned her head towards her friend, who appeared pale.

      He shifted nervously. ‘There isn’t much more to do. You are welcome to stay until I am finished for today.’

      She was not about to allow that to happen, but before she could voice her opinion Gabriel walked to the easel, crossed his arms and studied the sketch.

      ‘Continue,’ he said with a nod.

      ‘I will have to touch her to adjust her form.’

      ‘He does not care,’ Olivia murmured.

      But the artist’s eyes were fixed on Gabriel, who nodded his consent and watched as Manning went back to the easel to study Olivia’s pose. He approached her and hesitantly moved her neck and arm. Very carefully he adjusted the folds of her gown.

      The sketching resumed and Olivia could hear Gabriel move towards the chair near the door. Suddenly the pose she was in was not as relaxing as it had been a short time before. Why had she ever agreed to sit in this ridiculous position?

      * * *

      Although it probably only took fifteen more minutes of sketching in silence, to Olivia it felt like hours. Finally she heard him toss his chalk onto the table and she picked up her head to gauge his reaction. His grin was infectious.

      ‘You’re pleased?’ she asked, smiling back at him.

      ‘Exceedingly