โ
After all,โ she said, her eyes meeting his, โitโs not as though you lack sufficient charm to woo ladies. And youโre certainly handsome enough, in your own way.โ
She bent her head again. โOh, stop looking s smug. Iโm not flattering you, Iโm merely stating facts. Privateering was not your only profitable course of action. You might have married, if youโd wished to.โ
โAh, but thereโs the snag, you see. I didnโt wish to.โ
She picked up a brush and tapped it against her palette. โNo, you didnโt. You wished to be at sea. You wished to go adventuring, to seize sixty ships in the name of the Crown and pursue countless women on four continents. Thatโs why you sold your land, Mr. Grayson. Because itโs what you wanted to do. The profit was incidental.โ
Gray tugged at the cuff of his coat sleeve. It unnerved him, how easily she stared down these truths heโd avoided looking in the eye for years. So now he was worse than a thief. He was a selfish, lying thief. And still she sat with him, flirted with him, called him โcharmingโ and โhandsome enough.โ How much darkness did the girl need to uncover before she finally turned away?
โAnd what about you, Miss Turner?โ He leaned forward in his chair. โWhy are you here, bound for the West Indies to work as a governess? You, too, might have married. You come from quality; so much is clear. And even if youโd no dowry, sweetheartโฆโ He waited for her to look up. โYours is the kind of beauty that brings men to their knees.โ
She gave a dismissive wave of her paintbrush. Still, her cheeks darkened, and she dabbed her brow with the back of her wrist.
โNow, donโt act missish. Iโm not flattering you, Iโm merely stating facts.โ He leaned back in his chair. โSo why havenโt you married?โ
โI explained to you yesterday why marriage was no longer an option for me. I was compromised.โ
Gray folded his hands on his chest. โAh, yes. The French painting master. What was his name? Germaine?โ
โGervais.โ She sighed dramatically. โAh, but the pleasure he showed me was worth any cost. Iโd never felt so alive as I did in his arms. Every moment we shared was a minute stolen from paradise.โ
Gray huffed and kicked the table leg. The girl was trying to make him jealous. And damn, if it wasnโt working. Why should some oily schoolgirlโs tutor enjoy the pleasures Gray was denied? He hadnโt aided the war effort just so Englandโs most beautiful miss could lift her skirts for a bloody Frenchman.
She began mixing pigment with oil on her palette. โOnce, he pulled me into the larder, and we had a feverish tryst among the bins of potatoes and turnips. He held me up against the shelves and we-โ
โMay I read my book now?โ Lord, he couldnโt take much more of this.
She smiled and reached for another brush. โIf you wish.โ
Gray opened his book and stared at it, unable to muster the concentration to read. Every so often, he turned a page. Vivid, erotic images filled his mind, but all the blood drained to his groin.
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