diversions in her life. Although, for a gorgeous animal like Blackwood, she might be inclined to alter her rules and keep him for a time. He had the look of a man who was more than capable of satisfying a woman. And the fact that the countess—who had a reputation for dalliance—was obviously captivated by him was testament to his competence.
Taking jealous note of Sofia’s admiring gaze, for a brief moment Isabella debated canceling the sitting. On second thought, the pale, slender artist was hardly the type of woman to appeal to Jamie, who preferred women of substance who could keep up with him in bed. The little painter looked as though a good wind would blow her away. “Come, Miss Eastleigh,” Isabella crisply commanded. “I have another appointment after your sitting.”
Following the women from the waiting room, Jamie contemplated the stark differences between the two beauties, the lively contrasts of blonde femininity intriguing. Miss Eastleigh was slender with hair the color of sunshine on snow, her pale loveliness poetic and ethereal—like an Arthurian Isolde who might bruise with the slightest touch. Isabella, on the other hand, didn’t bruise at all, as he well knew after two days of wild, untrammeled sex. Bella’s golden splendor was that of a robust flesh-and-blood Valkyrie, passionate, impatient, demanding. He understood why Charlie preferred his sweet, young mistress in Chelsea from time to time if for no other reason than to rest.
A few minutes later, they entered the small conservatory where Sofia had set up her easel. Isabella disposed herself on the chaise in David’s Madame Recamier pose, waved Jamie into a chair opposite her, and sweetly cajoling, murmured, “Darling, tell me how I might tempt you to stay. Surely, your Highlands can wait for a day or so.” She spoke as if Sofia didn’t exist. “And don’t say you must go immediately because you don’t when you’re here for an entire fortnight.”
“If Davey wasn’t coming down from the hills to meet me, I could change my plans, but it’s a long, rough trek for him. It wouldn’t be fair to waste his time.”
“He’s your gillie for heaven’s sake. Send him a telegram. He can wait for you in Inverness for a day or so.”
“We can talk about this later,” he quietly said.
“Why? Oh, you think Miss Eastleigh is mindful. Of course she isn’t.” A duke’s daughter would, of course, hold such an opinion; servants were invisible.
“That’s enough, Bella.”
The countess offered her lover a sultry smile. “Will you beat me if I don’t obey?”
“Of course not.”
He spoke with soft restraint, but something in his tone apparently struck home, for the countess said with a complacent sigh, “Very well. You must always have your way.” She smiled. “For which I’ve been extremely grateful on any number of occasions, my masterful darling.”
“Are you quite done?”
“I suppose I must be with you frowning so. Was Vicky pleased last night that you finally arrived?” She knew when to be accommodating, particularly with Jamie. While they shared mutual pleasures, he wasn’t in the least enamored or adoring like so many of her lovers.
“Vicky was very pleasant,” he said, relieved Bella was finally minding her manners. “John’s a lucky man.”
“His wife is lucky as well. You and your cousin share a certain charming expertise. I was surprised when he married.”
“He’s in love.”
“You don’t say. How quaint.”
“It happens.”
“But fortunately not to you”—she smiled—“or me.”
“Could we talk about something else?” Or not talk at all?
“Of course, darling. Did you hear that Georgie Tolliver left his wife for his children’s governess? Isn’t that droll?” At which point, Bella lapsed into a gossipy discussion of their various acquaintances who were involved in affaires of one kind or another—the favorite amusement of the aristocracy.
Sliding down on his spine, his eyes half