Hot Historicals Bundle with An Invitation to Sin, The Naked Baron, When His Kiss Is Wicked, & Mastering the Marquess

by Jo Beverley

  He gave her a nod of acknowledgment. “Forgive me. Have I disturbed you? I was not aware I had an upstairs neighbor. Have you just arrived?” With casual grace, he reached for the white shirt that was hanging on the balustrade and slipped his arms into the long sleeves, obscuring her view of his chiseled chest.

  Feeling the deep tenor of his voice vibrate within her, Charlotte knew from his cultured accent he was English, just as she was. And a gentleman. For no man would remain bare-chested in the presence of a lady. At least now she would not be distracted by his rippling muscles. Self-conscious about being caught watching him for so long, she cleared her throat and found the wherewithal to speak. “Yes.”

  He chuckled at her brief response, while buttoning the front of his linen shirt. “Yes, I’ve disturbed you or yes, you’ve just arrived?”

  She nodded her head and murmured, “Yes, I’ve just arrived. And no, you haven’t disturbed me at all. I only stepped out on my balcony to admire the view.” And what a view it was.

  He turned his head toward the sea. “Yes, it’s quite a spectacular vista from up here, is it not? That is why I was moving this chair. This way I can sit and enjoy the sea without that cluster of trees obstructing my view.” He looked back up at her and smiled. “However, now I see that there is a much prettier view just above me.”

  Charlotte felt her cheeks redden and her stomach did a little flip at his words. Thankful for the distance of height between them, she tried to breathe. Goodness! Whatever was wrong with her? It was ridiculous actually. She had been through a Season or two and had handsome men making all sorts of fools of themselves over her. And here this golden stranger just paid her a silly little compliment and she fell to pieces like a giddy debutante at her first ball!

  “I don’t believe we have met,” she heard herself murmur, for lack of anything better to say.

  He bowed graciously in her direction. “I’m Gavin Ellsworth, here on holiday, as part of a summer tour. And the beautiful blond woman in the room above me must be …”

  Again her heart fluttered ridiculously. She made a point to ignore it. “If you are referring to me, I am Charlotte Wilton.”

  “Would that be Miss Wilton?” he questioned pointedly.

  “Yes,” she answered reluctantly. “And I believe you are being rather impertinent.”

  “I’m more than impertinent, I should warn you.” He flashed her another devastating smile. “However, I am very pleased to meet you. I was afraid that this visit might be a bit dull, but now that you have arrived, things are looking up.”

  “Really? Why is that?” With both hands Charlotte tightly gripped the wrought iron railing of the balcony that held her over his head. It was a flirtatious question, for of course his point was obvious.

  “Oh, Miss Wilton, I think you know very well what I mean.” Again that lazy, sultry smile flashed at her.

  She stared at him, saying nothing at all. Heavens, she had been rendered witless by him! The discovery of this weakness within herself was a revelation.

  “Are you here as a guest of Don Francisco also?” he asked.

  “His wife is a friend of my aunt,” Charlotte explained, surprised that actual words came out of her mouth. “I am traveling with my aunt this summer and we stopped here for a visit.” Charlotte was a houseguest at this home and apparently so was this handsome young man. The thought of spending the next few weeks sleeping above him caused her knees to tremble.

  “I am most pleased that you have finally arrived.”

  “Mr. Ellsworth, I believe I shall retire to my room now.”

  “I suppose I shall see you at supper, then?” he suggested with a hopeful grin.

  “I suppose.” She would most likely see him at every meal. Charlotte wondered how she would be able to eat anything in his presence. She might perish of hunger by the end of their visit.

  “Until supper, Miss Wilton.”

  Charlotte willed her immobile legs to move and turned from the balcony railing, the spectacular sea view forgotten. As she made her way through the double doors into her room, she suddenly noticed something at the far corner of the narrow balcony. A wrought iron staircase spiraled down to the patio below. To his patio. Heavens! A private stairway connected their two rooms!

  Gavin watched the vision in blue disappear into the bedroom upstairs and continued to smile, amused by her nervousness. Completely aware of his effect upon the fairer sex, he knew it would be great fun flirting with her and breaking that icy shell of reserve of hers. Miss Charlotte Wilton was certainly a stunning beauty and he wondered why someone had not claimed her by now. She was traveling with a spinster aunt. That was a red flag. Families often sent away troublesome daughters whom they could not marry off. He wondered what she had done to warrant an exile. Whatever the reason she found herself here, it now became his good fortune, for as he had said to her, his stay at the villa would be infinitely more diverting with her there. Beautiful women were always diverting, if nothing else.

  Although his hosts seemed like perfectly charming and gracious people, all the other guests he had met were at least a decade older than he and all of them married and some sort of artist, poet, or painter. Pedro Bautista-Martín, his friend from Oxford, had invited him to stay at his home in Spain, and since Gavin had no desire to spend another summer being lectured on his behavior by his father, he had readily accepted Pedro’s invitation. It was the least his friend could do considering it was Pedro’s crazy scheme that had caused Gavin’s expulsion in the first place.

  However, when Gavin arrived two days ago he learned that Pedro had been visiting a cousin in Seville, fallen ill with a fever, and would not return to Málaga for another week or two. So here Gavin was in Spain, staying with a family he did not know and his under-the-weather friend in another city! He had a devil of a time understanding Spanish and could only mumble some half-remembered Latin under duress. Fortunately, Pedro’s parents spoke perfect English, but they seemed to be the only ones.

  He had not even seen one passably attractive woman either since his arrival. He couldn’t wait to give Pedro what for when he finally showed up! Leaving him deserted in this sleepy coastal village with nothing to do for fun. Gavin had fumed inwardly for a while and thought of moving on to France before deciding to wait a little longer for Pedro.

  Ah, but now there was Miss Wilton. She was just his type, too. Slender and fair with a pretty face. Of course, he preferred actresses and opera singers, women of a certain persuasion with talents for pleasing a gentleman. Miss Wilton was obviously a proper and well-bred young lady and he understood without a doubt the boundaries he dared not cross with her. But she really was quite beautiful and hopefully would provide enough of a diversion until Pedro arrived. Then Pedro could show him around town and Gavin could finally enjoy the summer holiday he had anticipated.

  Gavin turned his eyes back to the shore and breathed deeply of the sea air. The view was truly remarkable. Still he could not resist another glance at the now empty balcony above him and the double glass-paned doors that were now shut.

  The spiral wrought iron staircase that led from his private patio to the room of the beautiful woman above had not escaped his notice either.

  Chapter 2

  “¡Bienvenidos!” Don Francisco Bautista-Martín uttered with a silky smooth accent as Charlotte stepped into the main salon of his villa. The tall, dark-haired Spaniard welcomed her with a warm smile. She had first met him when she arrived earlier that afternoon and liked him immediately.

  “Welcome to my home, Señorita Wilton!” he continued. “I hope you enjoy your visit with us.”

  “Thank you,” she said with awe, looking about the room with wide eyes.

  Charlotte quickly discovered that Don Francisco and his wife, Yvonne, were not conventional hosts. The rather late supper that evening was presented in a buffet style and instead of assigned places at the table, guests were encouraged to sit wherever they wished in the sprawling sala, which opened onto the veranda outside
. Women in rather revealing gowns and casually dressed men lounged atop large, luxurious velvet and satin pillows on the polished wood floor, engaged in spirited conversations. She overheard Spanish, some English and French being spoken, as well as a few other languages she did not even recognize. Scores of flickering candles lit the room while gauzy curtains were draped elegantly about the sala. The scents of unfamiliar spices and seafood filled the warm night air, mingled with the heady fragrance of jasmine from the garden. A musician strummed a Spanish guitar, the melody lending romance to the shadowy, candlelit room.

  It seemed like anything could happen in a place such as this.

  The unusual scene seemed so terribly evocative of … seduction was the only word she could find to describe the feeling. The highly formal and properly seated suppers back home were nothing like this. She turned to her aunt for reassurance.

  “Enjoy yourself, my dear. When in Spain …” Louisa Wilton responded to Charlotte’s unease with the situation with an indulgent smile, while she helped herself to a plate laden with delicious treats. “Live a little, Charlotte. You are not a babe and your parents are not here,” she added in a low whisper.

  Surprised, Charlotte smiled back with hesitation, wondering about her aunt.

  Louisa Wilton was extremely intelligent and well educated. She was taller than usual for a woman, with thick auburn hair and wide brown eyes. Her bubbly personality and charming ways made her a favorite among her many nieces and nephews. Charlotte was still trying to uncover the mystery regarding her aunt’s broken engagement many years ago, but Louisa had yet to divulge the source of her heartache. Although they had grown closer during their travels from London, Charlotte realized there was much about her aunt that she did not know or understand. She had an unshakable feeling she was on the verge of seeing her aunt in a new light since they arrived in Spain.

  “But Aunt Louisa, is any of this proper?”

  “Of course it is!” She flashed a grin. “It’s just a different sort of proper.”

  Charlotte cast a skeptical eye at the unusually garbed guests and wondered again how she ended up in Spain.

  “I would love to paint your portrait,” a female voice said from behind her.

  Charlotte turned around to see Doña Yvonne Bautista-Martín. “My portrait?” she asked in confusion.

  She had met her hostess when they had first arrived that afternoon and had been impressed by her beauty and gra-ciousness. A petite woman with an elegant manner, she was also an accomplished painter. At least that was what Charlotte had been told. Standing there in her flowing gown of red silk, Doña Yvonne seemed out of the pages of a Gothic romance.

  “Yes, Charlotte, I wish to paint you,” Doña Yvonne said with enthusiasm. “I adore the color of your golden hair. It would look lovely in the morning light.”

  “I agree with you,” Gavin Ellsworth said to their hostess but looking directly at Charlotte. He gave her a smile, flashing white teeth and his engaging dimple. “She is quite beautiful and would be the perfect subject for a portrait done by you.”

  Charlotte almost dropped the china plate from her hand at the sight of Gavin Ellsworth. She had carefully scanned the sala when she had first entered and had relaxed considerably when she had not seen him. Now he was standing right beside her. She could barely breathe. Without the distance of an entire story between them, she feared he could sense her reaction to him. He looked devastatingly handsome, in a clean white shirt and black trousers. He must have just bathed for his blond hair was still damp and combed back. At this close range, she could look into his eyes. They were greenish, with flecks of gold and brown. He stared at her so intently, she had to look away.

  Again, Charlotte said nothing but Doña Yvonne smiled, her dark eyes flashing with excitement. “You see, el guapo agrees that I should paint you, Charlotte. Perdóname, have the two of you been introduced?”

  Gavin continued to gaze at her. “We met briefly earlier this afternoon.”

  Doña Yvonne said, “Then you know that this lovely woman is Señorita Charlotte Wilton, the niece of my dear friend Louisa Wilton. And this young gentleman is Señor Gavin Ellsworth, a school friend of my son, Pedro.”

  “I am pleased to meet you once again, Miss Wilton,” Gavin said, reaching out his hand to take hers.

  Charlotte nodded in greeting, the contact of his hand shaking her to her toes. She mumbled, “Pleased to meet you.”

  Gavin also greeted her aunt. Louisa gave Charlotte a knowing glance. Charlotte wished to roll her eyes at her aunt’s insinuation, but she could not. She knew next to nothing about Gavin Ellsworth, yet she could not deny that her heart rate increased dramatically in his presence.

  “Yes, let her paint you, Charlotte. Have some fun! Doña Yvonne is a very skilled artist. You will not be disappointed with the end result,” Aunt Louisa urged, brimming with enthusiasm. “And it would be a wonderful souvenir of your visit to Málaga!”

  Charlotte was a guest in this house and it would be wrong to refuse her hostess. She had sat for portraits before, of course. At this very moment a beautifully rendered painting of her in a stunning formal gown of blue velvet hung in the family gallery of her home, Glenstone Manor, in England. So why did the thought of sitting for this woman fill her with trepidation? She did not know. Looking at the three faces staring at her, Charlotte could do nothing but acquiesce. “If it would please you, Doña Yvonne, I would be happy to sit for your painting.”

  “¡Maravilloso!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in triumph. “¡El retrato será magnífico! Ahh, un momento—”

  Doña Yvonne glanced at Gavin and eyed him carefully, assessing him. Then she looked at Charlotte. And back to Gavin. “I would love to paint you both. ¡Qué rubios! Yes, that is it. Together. You are both so fair, so blond, and so beautiful. May I paint you also, Señor Ellsworth?”

  “You wish for us to pose … for you … together?” Charlotte squeaked, noting the higher pitch in her voice with mounting alarm. She was making a fool of herself with this man. She had hardly been able to string two sentences together in his presence. The very idea of being in his general proximity for any length of time caused her to tremble.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Gavin agreed with a winning smile, his dimple playing havoc with Charlotte’s heart. “I would be honored, Doña Yvonne, and I am at your disposal for as long as you need me.”

  “Muy bien. Then it is all settled. We shall begin tomorrow morning. Meet me in my studio at dawn.”

  “Did you say dawn?” Gavin’s golden brows drew together in disapproval.

  It seemed he had an aversion to waking early. Charlotte silently agreed with him, for she hated arising before ten, but she still could not speak. What had she just gotten herself into?

  “Claro que sí!” Doña Yvonne exclaimed with a delighted smile. “Of course! We have to be prepared for the sunlight. You will both come on time. It will be perfect, I promise you. Now, you must have something to eat.”

  Their gregarious hostess began filling two plates with fruit, cheese and ham and then ushered them both to seats in the corner of the long veranda before hurrying off to see to her other guests. Charlotte watched Aunt Louisa sit with a bearded gentleman on a divan inside, while she found herself seated upon a stone bench bedecked with velvet pillows, with Gavin beside her. A small table stood before them. They were virtually alone together in the moonlight. How would she possibly survive such an intimate encounter? Is Doña Yvonne playing at matchmaker?Charlotte shuddered to think.

  This was exactly why she had agreed to leave England with her aunt, not that she had much say in the matter. The pressure from her family to marry had made her anxious.

  “In your brief time here at the villa, what is your opinion of this place?” Gavin asked, his expression full of intent interest in her.

  “It is like nothing I’ve ever seen at home, but I am not sure what to think of all this.” She swept her hand across to indicate the sprawling sala.

  �
��I am certain I had the same expression on my face two nights ago as you do now.”

  “Is it so obvious?” Charlotte’s cheeks grew warm.

  “It’s not the calamity you think it is.” He encouraged her with a heart-melting smile. “You merely look overwhelmed. And rightly so.”

  Charlotte understood that most of her nervousness was due to his proximity to her. Yes, the atmosphere at Don Francisco’s villa was one of Bohemian indulgence. That was something she believed she could get used to. What rattled her more was Gavin Ellsworth himself. Sitting beside her. Close beside her.

  “It’s very different from England,” she said. In England she knew exactly what was expected of her. Whether she agreed with the social standards of the day or not, she knew how to behave, how to act, and what was proper in any given situation. Whereas here in this villa, she felt unan-chored and adrift.

  “Yes,” he agreed, “but you’ll grow accustomed to it. In fact, I’m already quite used to it here. Why this evening I did not even don a necktie.”

  Charlotte forced her eyes away from the nakedness of his throat and the loosely buttoned shirt, for she recalled all too vividly the chiseled muscles and smooth golden planes of his chest. She breathed in and ignored his necktie-less state.

  She had noticed the complete disregard of fashion dictates since she’d arrived. Especially Doña Yvonne, wearing flowing robes of colorful silk and her long hair hanging loose. It was quite different here in this house. The rules she was familiar with did not apply here, it seemed.

  “How long are you staying at the villa?” Gavin asked.

  “A few weeks at least, and then we are sailing to Italy.”

  “I thought I might leave tomorrow, but then you arrived to alleviate my boredom.” He gave her a roguish wink. “You are my saving angel.”