Page 96 of Scandalous

“It hangs in the lower gallery at Lessing Hall, just beside the enormous sculpture of Artemis.”

“You mean the naked woman with the bird?”

How like him to recall a naked female, even when she was made from marble. “Yes, her.”

Martín was quiet for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he tried to recall the painting. He suddenly snorted. “The naked man with the serpent?”

Sarah flushed, looking away from his diverted expression. “Yes. That one.”

His body shook. “That is the one which has a leaf covering—”

“Yes.” Her cheeks burned.

“Hmm. No, I do not think there is a resemblance,” he concluded.

She cut him a sidelong look. “He is your height and build, your noses are almost identical, and even his hair is the same color.”

“Yes, that much is true, but I would need a much larger leaf.”

Sarah’s mouth fell open. “Captain Bouchard!”

He laughed. “Oh, come, can you not call me Martín? After all, we have spent months together on board my ship, danced together, ridden together, and now . . . discussed leaves together. Besides, you have used my name before.”

She heated all over at the memory. “Very well, but you must stop talking of . . . leaves.” Not that it would stop her from recalling the last time she’d seen him naked and aroused. She had to agree about the leaf.

He guided the grays onto a small pull-off that was separated from the main path by a cluster of trees. He turned to her, his body pinning her against the bench seat’s low back. His chest blocked the carriage path from view.

“I have wanted to talk to you alone for quite some time, Sarah.”

“Oh?” she said, her voice breathy.

“You sound surprised?”

“I am.”

“Then you are not as clever as you seem. Come, look at me.” He stripped his glove from his hand and took her chin, holding her so she could not avoid looking at him. His Ares-like features softened, and his full lower lip curved into a gentle smile as his thumb stroked her chin.

“I want you, Sarah.” He pulled her close and feathered a kiss over her lips, his wicked mouth teasing and licking and nipping until Sarah’s head was empty of any thought but wanting him. It had been so long since he’d touched her. His thigh was a hot, hard barrier between them, and she was vaguely aware of a hand sliding around her waist.

A low moan broke the silence, and she realized with a shock that it had come from her. His answer was to lift her onto his lap and pull her tight against his chest while massaging her back.

“I think of you constantly.” He took her hand and lowered it over the hard ridge straining against the front of his breeches.

Sarah thrilled at the proof of his desire for her, and her hand tightened around him. Her body ached for him.

“God that feels good,” he groaned into her throat. “No other woman can make me so hard, Sarah. I can think of nobody but you—even when I am with another woman.”

She jerked her hand away from him as though she’d been burned. “What?”

He reached up to stroke her face, his eyelids heavy and drowsy, but she slapped him away.

“Are you telling me that I’m interfering with your . . . your . . .” Sarah couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

Undeterred, he lightly bit her chin. “It is true that my amorous activities have suffered,” he admitted, kissing her lower lip.

Sarah gasped and pulled away. “How dare you?”

A small line formed between his hooded eyes. “What? I am telling you other women no longer arouse me, no matter how skillful they are with their bodies or what they do to pleasure me. I can only think of you. What is so bad in speaking the truth?”