Courting the Countess by Barbara Pierce Page B

confession.
    “Miss Hamblin, you have strayed from the position we had agreed upon,” Mr. Claeg chastised his model.
    “Sitting is tedious,” the young woman complained.
    He was unsympathetic. “Endure.”
    She repositioned her hands until he grunted his approval. “This is no longer fun,” she rebelliously muttered.
    “I never promised fun. I promised art,” he replied, distracted by the woman on the paper.
    Brook recalled him mentioning that his sister, Amara, had sat for him. She could not imagine her friend had displayed
any more patience than May while the artist within the man demanded perfection.
    Too absorbed in his work to notice, she allowed her gaze to move away from the scenery outside to his bowed head as she had done numerous times during the past hour. He possessed a male beauty deserving of an artist’s study. She would have been amazed if he had not received an offer to model.
    He was not vain. She had encountered gentlemen who were enamored with their own beauty and how others responded to it. Mr. Claeg was not oblivious to the female admiration his good looks gathered. He simply used them like another man might use his hands. His face was a beautiful tool that he could manipulate for his benefit.
    She had ordered him to leave her alone. In his typical manner, he had complied, but on his terms. They spent their afternoons together, but the rapport he had teased her into had cooled. He had told her that sketching May was his reason for visiting Loughwydde. Several hours later he had convinced her and the rest of the family. Since Mr. Claeg refused to display an unfinished sketch, most of the family had lost interest in their guest. It had fallen on her shoulders as mistress of the house to act as chaperone for Ham’s sister. Being relegated to something not worth protecting from blackguards and fortune hunters had been depressing. No one seemed to worry that Mr. Claeg might take advantage of her, and why not? He showed more affection to Grandmother Byres than he did to her these days.
    Maybe that was the explanation for her distrust. The drastic change in his affection was too convincing. Unless he had feigned his passion, she mused, rubbing her temples. No, she did not believe it was possible for a man to fake his physical response. Alas! It was all too confusing.
    “All that frowning would give anyone a headache,” Mr. Claeg said from behind his sketching book.

    “Are you speaking to me?” She flinched, realizing her fingers were digging into her temples. Brook let her hands drop into her lap.
    He made a concurring noise in his throat as if he were giving her a portion of his attention. “Your eyes have always reminded me of a cat. A brilliant blue fire that sears a man’s soul. They are hell on my concentration, Countess.”
    She had yet to glimpse his face and yet he had been aware of her actions. Brook felt the tingling heat of mortification.
    May moved out of position again and glanced back at Brook. Her eyes narrowed, trying to see if her assessment agreed with the artist’s. She was not happy with her conclusions.
    Brook came up from her seat in a flurry of motion. Mr. Claeg’s head jerked up and his gaze locked onto hers. There was no doubt she had gained his entire concentration; perhaps she had it all along. A thousand excuses fluttered in her mind, but her tongue felt thick.
    “Grab your mantle, Miss Hamblin,” Mr. Claeg directed, not taking his gaze off her. “The air is stale in this room. Soon I will be napping alongside Mrs. Byres if I do not act. A walk will cure your headache, Countess. Dress warm and wear sturdy shoes,” he warned both of them as he rose and stretched. “The beach will serve our purposes.”
     
    Mallory was pleased the ladies had heeded the unspoken impatience in his voice and had rushed to complete their tasks. Miss Hamblin was exuberant to be free of the pose he had confined her to and was willing to partake in the adventure he had presented. The