Pouring himself another drink, he lay back with a sigh. But a few minutes later, he abruptly stood. "Sorry, I need a break." And strolling over he stood behind her surveying the painting while she continued to work, defining the shadows on the muscled legs, adding a burnt ocher to the darkest shading, highlighting an area with a sweeping line of cadmium yellow. "You're as good as Gainsborough," he said after a few minutes of contemplation. "Better than Reynolds or Romney. I see a lucrative future for you."

"Thank you. You've a good eye. Reynolds is as dull as the dead marbles he copies."

"I do have a good eye, don't I," he murmured, moving closer.

She felt his presence behind her, felt the light, skimming kiss on the back of her neck. "And this pretty young artist on my terrace is as good as it gets," he murmured.

"Let me finish the body before the light changes," she urged. "I can work on the background later."

"No problem." And he strolled away to gaze at the sea.

But he was back very shortly like a restless child, standing behind her, his body brushing hers so she felt his arousal. "The light will be the same tomorrow." He lifted the paintbrush from her fingers. "Let me show you the view from the west terrace where the shade is more pleasant." And setting her brush aside, he took her by the hand and led her down a short range of stairs into a bougainvillea-shaded portico with a chaise.

"You have no patience," she softly chided, moving away to look at the view.

"About some things," he murmured, watching her pad barefoot across the worn marble.

"About sex," she said, turning back to him.

He smiled. "That's one of them."

"You've been indulged too long."

"Are you going to pout if I take you away from your work?"

"No," she replied, inhaling the perfumed air. "I'd always rather be with you."

She had no subterfuge; he found it charming. "I could hurry."

"As long as my pleasure isn't stinted."

He tipped his head and gazed at her with teasing scrutiny. "You expect satisfaction every time?"

"Every time," she declared, swinging her arms like a happy child. "Or I'll have to find a new dance partner."

"They'd have to get by my dueling pistols."

"I should look for men who are excellent marksmen then."

"You're much too saucy; I'm not sure I like that in a woman."

"The only thing you like in a woman, darling, is accessibility."

"An endearing quality. Did I mention nudity? You're overdressed."

She laughed and pulled off the loose shift she wore and opened her arms to him.

He gazed at her for a moment, struck by her cheerful abandon, wondering how she'd survived as a drudge in the Tothams' household for so long. Glad she'd been set free for him.

And when he reached out and pulled her into his arms and held her close, he thought for a moment he heard Gillian welcoming him to her home.

"Let's stay here forever," Serena whispered, her chin on his chest, her eyes summer-sky blue and adoring.

"If the war stopped we could."

"Let's stay a long time anyway."

"Yes," he said, though he knew his orders for Palermo were pressing. "Tell me what you'd like to do."

"Make love to you and paint. Paradise on earth."

"Leave out the painting for my paradise."

"You're single-minded."

"With you I am." And he kissed her then as he'd never kissed a woman, with genuine affection, with delight separate from passion. It was strangely appealing; he was surprised.

"Have you ever thought about having children?" she asked in the sweet afterglow of that tender kiss.

He gelt a jolt of terror run down his spine. "Maybe ... a very long time from now," he said.

"Did I alarm you?" She'd heard the sudden reserve in his voice.

"No, but let me find the sponges. I'm not planning on becoming a father today."

She was lying on the chaise when he returned, her body pale in the scented shade. "Sorry to have panicked you."

"It's not panic."

"Fear?"

"That's it," he said with a small smile. "I'd be a terrible father and a worse husband."

"Is that a warning?" Merriment shone in her eyes.

"Could we change this conversation? It's having an unfriendly effect on my libido."

"Like a new form of contraception?"

"Damn right." And sitting down beside her, he lay back in a restless sprawl. Placing the packet of sponges on her stomach, he said, "I don't think I can do it."

"Then I'll have to put you at ease or tempt you or both," she lightly challenged, lifting the small muslin bag, opening the drawstring top. Taking out one of the pieces of sponge she'd cut into a convenient shape to fit inside her, she held it up for him to see. "Why don't you watch this," she suggested, "to reassure yourself. Now pay attention, darling," she genially declared. "I'm taking this impregnable sponge," she went on with a smile, "and placing it here." Her fingers slipped inside her vagina and pressed the sponge upward. "Would you like to check it to see if it's in all the way?" she softly asked.

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze drifting down her body. He shook his head. "I need a drink."

"Courage?"

"Delay."

"I have the impression none of your ladies have asked you about having children?"

"No."

He was deathly quiet, almost grave. She was startled at the change in him. "Why don't I get your brandy for you?" she said, rising from the chaise. "And stop worrying. I don't want a child any more than you do." Her smile was pleasant, comforting. "My question was one of curiosity-no more."

"Good," he said, but he didn't smile back.

But he did later when she walked down the stairs into his line of vision, his mouth curving into a wide, captivated smile that erased his faint frown. "This is your idea of temptation?"

"Liquor, nudity, and sweets. How can you go wrong?" She struck a languid pose short feet away, the brandy bottle half raised to him in salute, his glass in her other hand, and brilliant against her pale skin glistened two marzipan cherries molded over her nipples-delicious ornaments for her plump, ripe breasts.

"The question now is what should I do first," he playfully intoned.

"Your eunuch mood has passed?"

"That bright red is very attractive," he politely declared, his wicked grin saying something very different.

"I thought you might like the cherries. Did I say they're soaked in brandy?"

"A woman of intelligence," he murmured.

"He approves too," she softly said.

His gaze flicked down to his rising erection. "Marzipan is one of his favorites."

"You have to have one drink first before you can touch me."

"Do I now," he lazily drawled.

"If you want the full experience, Lord Rochefort, I'd recommend it."

"I've heard that phrase a great number of times in the brothels of the world." His voice held a new wariness. "What is this going to cost me?"

"Nothing you can't afford. Just the use of him," she gently said, gesturing with the empty glass at his fully erect penis. "One drink. How can it hurt when you've emptied most of this bottle already?" Pouring a glassful, she held it out to him.

He hesitated a flashing moment, vigilant after too many women wanting things from him he didn't care to give.

"I'm harmless," Serena said.

"Yes and no," he murmured, taking the glass from her. She would have been far more harmless had he wished to discard her after two days in his normal pattern.

"Now drink it."

"Is it poisoned?"

"With love," she purred, smiling.

"What kind of love?"

"Sex love."

His grin flashed, familiar, warm. "To your health, mademoiselle," he silkily drawled, and lifted the glass to his mouth.

"Am I allowed to touch you now?" she teased.

"Be my guest," he said with a wave of his hand, his mood abruptly altered. And when she straddled his hips and smiled at him a moment later from very close range, he delicately touched her marzipaned nipple and said, "Dessert."

Reclining on the chaise, he drank his brandy leisurely, savoring the sight and scent of her, reaching up to touch her lightly, his fingers brushing the flaring swell of her breast, sliding upward to the warm hollow behind her ear, slipping down her jaw and across her mouth. "You could bring a eunuch to orgasm," he whispered, stroking the delectable fullness of her bottom lip.

"I thought I might have to."

"A temporary fit of terror."

"Since abated."

"Oh yes," he huskily breathed.

She could feel his erection on her back, the warm, velvety skin rubbing against her in a leisurely rhythm. And when she leaned forward to take his empty glass, his penis slid sensuously between her buttocks. "Now for dessert," she murmured, setting the glass aside, lifting her breast slightly so the bright red cherry grazed his mouth. "Take your time...." she murmured, a torrid undertone in her words.

He did. He sucked away the sweet confection with deliberation and finesse and then licked off all the syrupy residue left on her nipples, shifting back and forth between her thrusting breasts, scrupulously democratic in his ministrations, fair and equitable and so exquisitely tactile, she suddenly climaxed in a fierce, panting tremor.

"You're so easy," he teased, sliding his tongue across the underside of her breast before falling back against the soft cushions. "And safe."

Her eyes were shut, the air felt like silk on her heated skin, her body strummed and throbbed like the hum of bees on a hot summer day. And she wondered with both languor and a ripple of alarm whether she'd ever have enough of him. Then his words registered in her brain. "Safe?" she queried, opening her eyes.

"You can't possibly get pregnant doing that."

"You're fixated."

"Damned if I'm not," he grudgingly murmured, talk of babies and romance like a nail in his brain.

A small flare of annoyance disrupted Serena's blissful reverie. "I'm not intent on marrying you."

"I've heard that before."

"I don't care what you've heard before," she said, glaring at him. "So are we not making love again? Is that what you're saying?"

"Jesus, Serena, relax."

"I find it offensive to be compared to all the grasping women in your past. And I don't care to be penalized for their sins."

"Penalized?" The word trembled between them. "Is there some quota here?"

"No, I suppose not, but ..."

"Lord," he said, grinning, "I've fallen into nirvana. You want to fuck more?"

"I don't know about more, but ... well ... you can't expect me to get a taste of this delicious pastime and then just stop."