Something about the discomfort on the older man’s face helped Sarah settle down. “Please, do not worry yourself. Mr. Latimer, Mr. Dorvee and I hadn’t confirmed a time for our meeting. There was no way you could have anticipated my arrival.”
“Mr. Latimer is in his office and Mr. Dorvee is in his studio. Where would you like me to take you?”
“If you could direct me to Mr. Latimer, please.”
“Certainly, Miss Rigdon. If you will follow me.”
He walked out of the kitchen and along a narrow corridor until a door in the wall led them back into the main house. A few more steps and they stood outside Latimer’s office. He knocked and opened the door for Sarah when Latimer called out.
“Sir, Miss Rigdon has arrived.”
Latimer rose to his feet, once again without his coat. His strong body moved fluidly and with precision. For a second, fire burned in his deep-brown eyes before he returned to his neutral expression. “Miss Rigdon.”
“Mr. Latimer.” She cleared her throat, her voice for some bizarre reason far more husky than usual. She turned to Jennings. “Could I trouble you for some tea, please? My morning has been slightly arduous.”
He bowed to her. “Certainly, miss. I will have a tray ready momentarily. Sir, would you like anything?”
Latimer shook his head, not looking away from Sarah.
Unlike Kemmer’s chill-inspiring stare, Latimer’s eyes filled Sarah with heat. The snick of the door closing should have frightened her, but instead it made the flames inside her flare hotter.
He gestured at one of the chairs in front of his desk and waited for her to sit before doing so himself. “I am sorry to hear your morning has been trying. Is there anything I can do to help?”
For a second Sarah imagined Latimer and Kemmer facing off, but as quickly as the picture came she pushed it away. She could not share her difficulties.
She had dealt with it.
She hoped. “No, thank you. A cup of tea will take care of that splendidly.”
He raised his brows and leaned back. “That is an amazing cup of tea.”
She smiled. “Don’t you know? No matter your circumstances, you can face anything after a nice cup of tea.”
“I will have to invest in the tea trade if what you say is true. Thank you for sharing your wisdom.”
A flush rose up her cheeks. Never in her memory had she had a calm conversation with Archer Latimer before. It was rather nice.
Silence fell. It was as if neither quite knew how to interact on this new level.
“The last few days have been exceedingly warm for this time of year.” Sarah wanted to cringe, but the weather, the one thing an English woman could always fall back on, was the only subject that came to mind other than how handsome he looked and how much fuller his lower lip was than the upper.
Not exactly appropriate conversation.
A smile lit up his face, but he nodded sagely. “You are absolutely right. We have a sunroom at the back of the house and it has been lovely sitting there with the door open to the garden.”
The image of the two men lounging on sofas or daybeds with the sun highlighting their lean, good looks made her toes curl. “That sounds wonderful.” Her voice rasped a little.
“Who knows, maybe after your first session today with Warren you would like to join us.”
His words brought her situation back to her with full force. She sat up straighter and looked at her hands. “Perhaps.”
Before the silence could turn awkward again a knock sounded and Jennings entered with the tea trolley. Grateful to have something to do, Sarah poured both of them a cup of tea and helped herself to the finger sandwiches. Mrs. Olsen would probably tell her it was unseemly for a woman her size to eat in front of a man, but right now she needed a distraction. And food usually helped to stabilize her emotions.
“Have you had the opportunity to look over my father’s Banknote Verification Device?”
Latimer turned and looked at the models and materials piled high on the shelves. Then he pointed at the mountain of paperwork in one corner of the desk. “Unfortunately not. I look forward to taking a closer look, but right now a number of other subjects have priority.”
A part of Sarah felt relief Latimer hadn’t gotten to her father’s latest big idea. It meant he could savor his excitement before reality, and the fact his amazing invention could not be made viable, crashed his hopes again. Another, darker part just wished for Latimer to tell her father his contraptions were useless and force him to finally grow up.
As soon as the thought came Sarah pushed it aside, guilty that she wished her father to experience such disappointment. She needed to get herself back on track. Unfortunately her track meant she would be posing in the nude.
She did not finish her cup of tea and set it down. She rose, forcing him to stand as well. “Could you please direct me to Mr. Dorvee so we can get this farce started?”
He ignored her sharp tone. “Certainly. Please follow me.”
The relaxed atmosphere they’d shared for a brief moment had disappeared. For a second she wished it back.
But that was not what she was here for.
Sarah followed Latimer from his office, attempting not to stare at his well-shaped behind, clearly visible with his shirt tucked in and no coat. She sped up slightly until she was more beside than behind him in the wide hallway.
He shot her a look, but remained silent.
After what felt like an age they arrived outside a closed door. Latimer knocked once and then stepped through. “Warren, Miss Rigdon is here.”
Sarah followed him inside a square room flooded with light. The windows along the back wall were nearly floor to ceiling and faced the garden. One wall had canvases stacked against it. She only saw their backs, meaning they gave her no insight into Dorvee’s abilities.
Shelves covered half the opposite wall, filled with more canvasses as well as art supplies and odds and ends. Easels of different heights stood before the shelves and a large velvet sofa covered the other half of the wall.
Dorvee lounged on it like a sultan from Arabian Nights. He had a sketchpad on his lap. A big smile brightened his face when she entered the room. He jumped to his feet, threw the pad on the sofa and strode over to her. “Miss Rigdon, what a delight. I am so looking forward to our session.” He clasped her hand and drew her along behind him to the sofa. “Please sit, be comfortable.”
He turned to Latimer. “Thanks, Archer, I can take it from here. If I need any help I’ll call you.”
Latimer shot him a meaningful look and bowed to her. “Miss Rigdon.”
“Mr. Latimer.”
The door closed behind him.
She was alone with Mr. Dorvee. A man she had met only once, very briefly.
The man who now expected her to get undressed, let him stare at her and capture all her imperfections for eternity on canvas.
The artist—she had no idea if he even had the slightest bit of talent.
The last aspect was the only one she could do anything about. Sarah leaned over, picked up the sketchpad Dorvee had dropped and looked through it. It took her breath away.
Here was the façade of Westminster. The next page featured the face of an old woman. Then there was a group of kids flying kites in the park. Another page showed a couple, that despite keeping the proper distance between them practically screamed their care for each other.
This man, this artist, saw everything. Nothing escaped him. And with just a few lines in charcoal he captured the essence of his subjects.
And he hid none of it.
The beautiful and the ugly and everything in between. He brought all of it out on paper.
And now he was about to use her as his model.
Sarah wasn’t sure if she could stand what his image would show of her.
Warren watched her flip through his book. He wanted to pace up and down the room or wring his hands. It had been a very long time since it mattered to him this much what someo
ne thought of his art. With each picture she looked at, her shoulders tensed further and further, and she came close to wrinkling the pages with the force of her grip.
When she came to the end she slowly closed the pad and looked up at him.
His breath caught.
“You have an amazing talent, Mr. Dorvee.” She held up his book. “These are as beautiful as they are disturbing.”
Warren exhaled with relief. She liked his art. “Why do you say disturbing?” He sank onto the sofa opposite her.
Sarah flicked through the pages until she reached a particular drawing. It was the one of an old lady he’d seen sitting in the sun in Kensington Gardens. He’d asked her if he could sketch her. She had laughed and then given him permission.
“In this picture you show her life, everything she’s been through, the laughter and happiness as well as the pain she’s experienced.” She looked up at him. “You revealed everything about her.”
She closed the book again and set it aside. “It is just a little disconcerting to know how well and how deep you can see.”
Warren wondered what she feared he’d highlight. He wanted nothing more than to dive into the sketching, but it was obvious she wasn’t quite ready. “Miss Rigdon—”
She snorted. He raised his brows in question.
She exhaled and met his gaze. “The way I understand it, I am expected to undress down to the skin and pose for you as naked as the day I was born. It just feels somewhat odd to continue to use my surname and Miss.” She pulled back her shoulders. “Please call me Sarah.”
Warren smiled. “Only if you call me Warren.”
She nodded and looked around. “How is this going to work?” She pointed at the wall of windows showing the garden. “There doesn’t appear to be much privacy.”
He jumped up and walked to the right end of the windows. “We can change that.” He turned a switch and a wall of wooden window coverings slid down, making it impossible to see in or out. He pulled a second switch and well-placed gas lighting flared to life across the room. He preferred drawing in daylight, but this was a small compromise. “Is this better?”
She studied the narrow wooden boards on the sliding rail and nodded. “It must be good to have a housemate who knows how to build things.”
Warren laughed. “More like I am the guinea pig for everything he comes up with or stumbles across.”
Sarah nodded but stared at her toes. “Mr. Dorvee…Warren, I have to admit this situation is somewhat difficult for me.” She raised her hand. “I am not trying to welsh on the agreement, but I am not particularly comfortable with undressing for you.” She gestured. “I have never posed for an artist and am uncertain about what to do.”
He studied her. She needed to trust Archer and him, and that would take a little time.
He took her hands in his and loosened the tight fists. “How about we start slow?”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Warren pulled her up from the sofa and directed her to the folding screen.
She paused and stroked her fingertips across the decorated silk covering the panels with a sensuality that made him wish he were the silk. “This is beautiful.”
“It’s from Japan. Cherry blossoms have significant meaning in the local culture and it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. The creator was an artist.”
She turned to him. “Like you.”
Warren smiled. “Thank you. Now, how about you only take off the dress and shoes and leave on your underthings?”
Color flushed into her cheeks. He ignored her embarrassment and continued to smile. “That way I can begin my sketching and you have opportunity to get a feel for how I work.”
She nodded.
Warren exhaled as she stepped behind the screen. Man and artist battled inside him for dominance.
Both of them wanted Sarah.
Wanted to touch her, to feel her, to release the fire burning inside her. He pushed his fingers through his hair. This he had not expected. He had to stop his imagination from running wild when he saw the shadows of her movements and the sounds of clothes dropping.
Giving her an out and starting slower than planned had not been a conscious decision. Seeing her distress and worry had been too much for him and he did believe the slower pace would help them in the long run.
Sarah stepped out from behind the screen.
Warren swallowed and was glad his shirt wasn’t tucked into his trousers. He preferred loose clothes when painting and now it helped cover his hardening dick.
She looked beautiful. Her corset followed her gorgeous curves, cupping her breasts and presenting them to him. He wanted to stroke across the appealing mounds peeking out behind the chemise. Her fine cotton drawers hugged her round bottom and followed the lines of her legs to end in lacy ruffles just under her knees.
He frowned at the number of mended areas. They had been done with a very fine hand, but no matter how good the quality originally, her drawers were not new.
Despite that he wasn’t surprised that her underwear was more sensual than her outerwear.
She clasped her hands before her breasts.
He gently unclasped them and guided her to stand in front of the now-closed windows. “Just stand here. Don’t worry about posing or standing a certain way. Today is all about you being comfortable and growing more familiar with my process.”
Some of the tension drained out of her body and her lips quirked. “Thank you, Warren. I appreciate your patience.”
Despite the slight softening, her shoulders remained tense and her legs stiff.
Warren didn’t comment, instead grabbed his sketchpad and dropped to the floor in front of her. He caught her frown out of the corner of his eye. “I usually move around when sketching.” He looked up. “This is just my starting point.”
Sarah looked about as comfortable as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. If Warren stood an automaton beside her he didn’t believe he’d see much difference between the machine and her.
He cleared his throat, struggling not to get caught up in the visual stimulation of her luscious body. “Posing for any length of time is exhausting, so we’ll start with thirty-minute intervals.” He set his wrist alarm before looking up. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if and when you grow tired.”
She raised her brows. “I am just standing here.”
Warren nodded. “But you are doing it while trying not to move.”
Sarah frowned. It was clear she didn’t believe posing to be strenuous. He would let her learn from experience.
He began sketching, completing a rough draft of her whole figure before focusing on individual parts.
“So.” Her smile was more of a grimace. “Where did you buy the beautiful screen?”
“In a small shop in a town called Kyoto.” He captured the curve of her chin on paper. “The town had a beautiful craft fair I wanted to explore and Archer discovered this little hole-in-the-wall shop.”
Her eyes had gone wide enough to double as saucers. “You traveled to Japan?” She leaned forward. “What was it like?”
Warren paused in his sketching. The lines missed his usual smoothness, but he didn’t dare to drop off into what Archer called his state. When he did that his focus on the subject before him was absolute. Some of his models expressed that he became overbearing and impolite. One had even called him a dominant mug, but that was after he’d ignored her continued advances.
He studied Sarah, the softening in her body and excitement on her face. He wished her eagerness had a very different target, but at least she no longer resembled a piece of metal. Under normal circumstances he would reprimand his model for moving, but he was just glad they’d found a subject that helped her to relax. “It was an amazing voyage.” He looked back down on his pad, capturing the curve of her lips and slight upturn in her nose.
“Archer went to meet with a number of engineers. He’ll be at our next session, so you can a
sk him about his experiences.” Warren laughed. “It is a very, very different world. They think us the barbarians, but keep all their thoughts hidden behind a polite smile. We stopped in Hong Kong, where we were lucky enough to find someone who could give us insights into Japanese culture.”
“Such as?” Her hands, squeezed together so tight they were white, slowly loosened and her smile grew more natural.
He grinned. “We spent an extraordinary amount of time learning how to bow.”
Her brows shot up and he captured that instance of bright-eyed innocence. For a second he imagined what would be in her eyes after Archer and he had introduced her to the desires of the flesh.
Sweat gathered at his lower back and on his upper lip.
Now was not the right time to let his imagination wander. “You have to be very careful. If you bow too deeply you indicate that the person before you is superior. If you don’t bow deep enough you insult your host and say you are more important.”
“But wouldn’t it be fine to bow too deeply and indicate one’s appreciation for the host’s position and the welcome one received?”
Warren met her eyes. Intelligence sparkled in them.
“Excellent thought, Sarah, but it automatically puts you in a weaker position at the negotiating table.”
“Really? How fascinating.” Sarah rolled back onto her heels before realizing what she did and standing straight again. “Is it true that they eat raw meat?”
Warren shared his knowledge of Japanese cuisine and was delighted to discover Miss Sarah Rigdon bright and genuinely interested. Unlike many people he had shared his travel stories with, she had no prejudice or judgment of different cultures. Only interest.
A lot of it. His throat turned dry with all the questions she asked. He couldn’t remember sharing this much of his experiences and emotions with a person he’d only met once before. It felt as if he were talking not to a stranger, but a friend.
A friend who made him hard with every movement, who drove his hunger with every smile and every laugh.
Warren wanted more. And he wanted it now.
With brute force he reminded himself to be patient and to enjoy her vibrancy.
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