Sweet as the Devil (3 page)

A few minutes later, they entered the small conservatory where Sofia had set up her easel. Isabella disposed herself on the chaise in David’s
Madame Recamier
pose, waved Jamie into a chair opposite her, and sweetly cajoling, murmured, “Darling, tell me how I might tempt you to stay. Surely, your Highlands can wait for a day or so.” She spoke as if Sofia didn’t exist. “And don’t say you must go immediately because you don’t when you’re here for an entire fortnight.”

“If Davey wasn’t coming down from the hills to meet me, I could change my plans, but it’s a long, rough trek for him. It wouldn’t be fair to waste his time.”

“He’s your gillie for heaven’s sake. Send him a telegram. He can wait for you in Inverness for a day or so.”

“We can talk about this later,” he quietly said.

“Why? Oh, you think Miss Eastleigh is mindful. Of course she isn’t.” A duke’s daughter would, of course, hold such an opinion; servants were invisible.

“That’s enough, Bella.”

The countess offered her lover a sultry smile. “Will you beat me if I don’t obey?”

“Of course not.”

He spoke with soft restraint, but something in his tone apparently struck home, for the countess said with a complacent sigh, “Very well. You must always have your way.” She smiled. “For which I’ve been extremely grateful on any number of occasions, my masterful darling.”

“Are you quite done?”

“I suppose I must be with you frowning so. Was Vicky pleased last night that you finally arrived?” She knew when to be accommodating, particularly with Jamie. While they shared mutual pleasures, he wasn’t in the least enamored or adoring like so many of her lovers.

“Vicky was very pleasant,” he said, relieved Bella was finally minding her manners. “John’s a lucky man.”

“His wife is lucky as well. You and your cousin share a certain charming expertise. I was surprised when he married.”

“He’s in love.”

“You don’t say. How quaint.”

“It happens.”

“But fortunately not to you”—she smiled—“or me.”

“Could we talk about something else?”
Or not talk at all?

“Of course, darling. Did you hear that Georgie Tolliver left his wife for his children’s governess? Isn’t that droll?” At which point, Bella lapsed into a gossipy discussion of their various acquaintances who were involved in affaires of one kind or another—the favorite amusement of the aristocracy.

Sliding down on his spine, his eyes half shut, Jamie replied in a desultory fashion to her comments. He was tired; two days of carnal sport and little sleep had taken its toll.

Bella seemed not to notice, absorbed as she was in her frivolous recital, or perhaps she was simply content to have Jamie near.

It was like watching a bored animal, Sofia thought as she captured the countess’s pretty features on the canvas, Countess Minton’s lover politely biding his time, listening with half an ear to the countess’s chatter, appearing to doze off on occasion. Although, apparently, he didn’t, for he always managed to respond when required. Politely. With a cultivated civility at variance with his lassitude. He’d open his eyes and answer even the most banal queries with good humor.

The conservatory armchairs were gilded faux bamboo, the attenuated metal dangerously light for a man his size.

Would or wouldn’t the chair collapse beneath his weight?

Would he or wouldn’t he actually fall asleep? Sofia wondered as if she were somehow his keeper. Or the countess’s. As if either of them cared what she thought when they apparently dealt very well together.

Wresting her gaze from the stunning couple, Sofia curtailed her contemplation of the two lovers and applied herself to her work.

And so the sitting progressed, Bella chattering, Mr. Blackwood largely inanimate, Sofia finishing the depiction of the countess’s large blue eyes and beginning to sketch in her nose with quick, sure strokes. Having defined the shape to her satisfaction, she was gathering a dab of pale pink paint from her palette for the highlights when the door to the conservatory abruptly opened.

A stylish young lady dressed in ruffled, beribboned white muslin burst in, using her parasol to shove aside a flustered servant who’d arrived in her wake.

“Your man, Walters, wasn’t going to let me in, Bella,” she irritably proclaimed, casting a censorious glance on the innocent footman who’d followed her on the butler’s orders. “I knew perfectly well that you were at home with Jamie in town.” She swung around in a rustle of silk. “Hello, Jamie,
darling.
” Her smile was both dazzling and gloating; she’d successfully run her fox to ground. “You’re looking utterly gorgeous as usual. Do give me a kiss.”

While the countess scowled, Lady Winterthur, flushed with triumph, swiftly advanced on her prey, her parasol swinging from her wrist. “I should be in a pet with you, darling,” she sweetly said with feigned chagrin. “You didn’t stop by to see me.”

James Blackwood had come to his feet before the lovely brunette reached him and, taking her hands in his, suavely saved himself from her embrace. Bending, he bestowed the requested kiss, held her at arm’s length, and smoothly lied. “I’m just passing through London or I would have called.”

“Since you’ve chosen to disturb our sitting, do sit down at least, Lily,” Bella ordered, anxious to separate her rival from her lover. “And don’t distract the painter,” she said with annoyance. “We are under a time constraint. I have another appointment after this.”

Taking a seat next to Jamie, Lily Chester slanted a sly glance at the countess. “How perfect! I’ll take Jamie off your hands then. We’ll find something to do to amuse ourselves, won’t we, darling?” she brightly said, smiling at her quarry.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Bella snapped. “He’s staying here!”

“Ladies, I prefer not being handed around like a Sacher torte,” Jamie drily said. “I’m off to Scotland at five in any event.”

“What a shame. We won’t have time to
play
,” Lily murmured. “You’ve been terribly selfish, Bella,” she chided, turning on her hostess, “keeping him all to yourself.” She glanced at Jamie, her gaze openly avaricious. “Perhaps on your return to London, darling, we could share a
moment or two
.”

“We’re done here,” the countess rapped out, her color high.

It was unclear to whom she was speaking, until she rose from the chaise and dismissed Sofia with a flick of her fingers. “Really, Lily, have you no shame?” she hissed, turning a vengeful eye on her guest. “Do I intrude when you have company? We are
done
, Miss Eastleigh,” she repeated, sharply.

“She’s putting her brushes away, Bella. Be civil.” Rising from his chair, Jamie walked toward Sofia, stopping just short of her easel. “Ignore her,” he softly said. “May I help?”

“Thank you, no,” Sofia replied, wiping her brushes. “This will take just a minute.” Dropping her brushes one by one into a jar of turpentine, she closed the lid on her paint box.

“I apologize for them both.”

“You needn’t. I’m familiar with—”

“Outspoken females?”

He’d formed the word
bitches
, Sofia noticed, but changed his mind. “Yes,” she said, giving her hands a last wipe.

He nodded toward the painting. “The likeness is superb.” “The countess is very beautiful.”

He smiled faintly. “Let me see you to the door. I’ll be right back, Bella,” he called out, ignoring his lover’s scowl, offering Sofia his arm.

As they exited the room, he said, “My apologies again. Lily is always troublesome, and Bella is—well, Bella. She’s a spoiled child.”

“And yet?” Sofia shot him an amused glance, the faint scent of the countess’s costly perfume lingering on his clothes.

He grinned. “I have no excuse. Have you been painting long? You’re very good.”

“All my life if you count amateur efforts. Both my parents are artists.”

“Ah. That explains it then. My forebears were all soldiers.”

“That explains it then,” she said, echoing him. “You have a powerful physical presence. As an artist, I notice such things.”

He could have said most women noticed his size, but on his best behavior, he said, instead, “I hope Bella’s paying you well for her discourtesy.”

“Yes, very well. I’m quite content, and no offense, but I don’t really listen to women like her. Aristocratic women are entirely wanting in occupation.” She grinned. “Which is where you come in I expect.”

“It does pass the time,” he said with a broad smile.

“But you’re on your way to Scotland.”

“Yes, and none too soon.”

“I noticed your boredom.”

“Too much of a good thing,” he drolly replied. “I’m looking forward to little conversation and fewer people at my home in the Highlands.”

“Then I wish you safe journey.”

They’d reached the front door, where two flunkeys were waiting.

Jamie nodded to them.

The door was opened, and with a graceful bow he sent Sofia on her way.

W
HETHER IT WAS her artist’s eye, Jamie’s dark good looks, or the fact that she’d been celibate for the rare interval of a fortnight, Sofia found herself dwelling on the splendid James Blackwood as she walked home.

He was exceptionally kind and well mannered as well.

Not that either of those qualities necessarily prompted her reverie apropos the darling man. Rather, it was his undiluted sexuality on display in the countess’s home, as if it were unremarkable for him to serve as stud to female passions. Common and habitual in fact. His composure told the tale.

He knew women wanted him.

In this case, two women.

And Sofia didn’t doubt if he hadn’t had a train to catch, he would have satisfied them both.

Now
that
would have been a fetching painting—the large, powerful, dark-as-sin Jamie Blackwood engaged in carnal congress with a voluptuous blonde and brunette.

A shiver of arousal rippled through her vagina.

She
could
represent them in mythological guise, him in full rut with two nymphs or goddesses. Perhaps the Judgment of Paris would serve, although she’d have to add another woman. She drew in a sharp breath at the thought of Jamie Blackwood servicing three women, an involuntary flush warming her body. Quickly glancing around, she took note of the pedestrians in her vicinity and heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God, the nearest was several yards away.

Heavens! How long had it been since she’d made love? Too long if she was indulging in such lewd fantasies!

There was no point in any event in fantasizing about Jamie Blackwood; he was leaving London. And unlike the interfering Lily, she most definitely could not expect a visit upon his return. Although, she rather doubted he’d be calling on the lovely Lily either.
Too much of a good thing
, he’d plainly said.

Unlike most aristocrats with excess leisure, he did not appear to construct his life around sexual amusements. The countess
had
referred to him as
baron
. A Scottish title most likely with a name like Blackwood.

Not that it mattered.

She’d never see him again unless he happened to be at another of the countess’s portrait sittings. Which was unlikely.

So there was absolutely no earthly reason for her to detour to Bruton Street Books to query Rosalind about the baron James Blackwood. But she knew the Duchess of Groveland was originally from Yorkshire—which bordered Scotland. Oh hell, he’d said he was from the Highlands not the Lowlands. Perhaps Fitz knew him.

She found not only Rosalind in her office at the store but also Isolde, Oz Lennox’s wife who’d become a good friend the past year. Rosalind’s small son was asleep in a crib, a nursemaid at his side.

“Come in, sit down, Sofie. I’ve been telling Isolde you’ve been spending considerable time with Bella Bonner, making her more beautiful than she already is.”

Sofie smiled. “Isn’t that the point of having your portrait painted?”

Rosalind turned to Isolde. “Bella’s paying Sofie a fortune or she wouldn’t do it.”

“I’m going to spend my windfall in Paris enjoying the pleasures of wine, men, and song. Or just wine and men,” Sofie added with a grin. “The music halls and opera will have to do without me.”

“While we two old married women will live vicariously through your pleasures,” Isolde teased.

Sofie snorted. “Married to your husbands you have pleasures enough I don’t doubt.”

Rosalind and Isolde exchanged smiles, both inexpressibly content in their marriages.

“So how did Bella annoy you today?” Rosalind asked, up-to-date with all of Sofie’s complaints about her new client.

“She was no more annoying than usual. But she had someone keeping her company during her sitting whom I’d not seen before.”

“A man no doubt,” Rosalind said. She recognized a certain excitement in Sofie’s tone.