Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

Later that evening, Elizabeth smiled up at the duke as he draped her paisley shawl around her shoulders. She shivered as her skin heated and leaned back against his chest. He made a satisfied sound and ran his fingertip along the edge of her bodice. Her nipples obligingly peaked as though begging for his touch.

When they reached the cavernous entrance hall, the duke paused to speak to his butler and then picked up a candelabrum and led her through a series of grand withdrawing rooms until they reached a set of double doors. The fading sunlight struggled to penetrate the irregular diamond-shaped windowpanes that adorned the rear of the house.

The duke struck a flint and lit the candles. Light flared in the darkness, illuminating his face. "The gallery runs the length of the east wing."

He gestured for Elizabeth to precede him into the room. Someone had obviously been in before them. The shutters were open and the thick, velvet curtains drawn back to reveal the floor-length windows. Wall sconces were lit at strategic intervals along the long gallery, bathing the walls in a soft, welcoming glow.

Elizabeth paused to appreciate the view. The room had a high ceiling decorated in ivory and gold. Rose-patterned white silk brocade covered the walls and the carpet was an indistinct swirl of gold and blue. Elizabeth drew her shawl around her shoulders as the duke came up alongside her.

"It is a beautiful room." She hesitated as he set the candles down on a small table. "But don't you think it would be better to wait until the morning? I fear I will not be able to distinguish the pictures very clearly."

"Unfortunately, we will not have time in the morning. I've always found that seeing the pictures in the twilight makes me concentrate on the details more carefully."

Elizabeth moved toward the first picture on the left. "This must be one of the oldest in your collection."

The duke came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. "Yes, this is the first Gervase. He made his fortune fighting with the usurper Henry Tudor at the battle of Bosworth."

Elizabeth leaned closer to inspect the features of the man in the portrait as the duke trailed his fingertips up and down her bare arms. She shivered as he pressed closer and tried to read the signature scrawled in the corner of the portrait. "It is a Holbein." She turned to stare into the duke's amused face. "I've never seen a picture of his held in a private collection before."

He placed her hand on his arm and drew her toward the next portrait, which depicted a family group. "This is his wife, Matilda and their seven children."

Elizabeth laughed and her shawl slithered down her arms and fell to the floor. "Matilda doesn't look very happy, does she? But I should imagine that having seven children would make most women miserable."

The duke bent to pick up her shawl. His dark hair gleamed in the candlelight and Elizabeth resisted an urge to run her fingers through it. He rearranged the shawl around her shoulders and then turned her to face him. She swallowed hard as he proceeded to tie the fringed ends into a bow, which sat just below her bodice. As he worked, his fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts.

He turned her back to face the portrait and kept his hands on her bare shoulders. His warm breath tickled the curling hairs at the nape of her neck. "I understand from the family records that poor Matilda bore fifteen children to the first Gervase. She was lucky so many of them survived."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "Now I feel badly about saying she looked sad. She has every reason to be."

The duke placed his hand in the small of her back and directed her toward the next portrait. "What do you think of this one?"

Elizabeth got as close as she could to the small portrait of a lady astride her horse, her flaming red hair streaming down her back, her expression one of challenge. "She seems a little unusual for her time. Modest women were supposed to keep their hair covered unless they were maidens." She examined the portrait again. "But this lady doesn't look like a maiden. She is far too...worldly."

"This is the Lady Marguerite de Villas. She was Gervase's mistress for most of her life."

Elizabeth snorted. "How did he find the time to have a mistress when he was busy begetting fifteen children on his poor wife?"

The duke's mouth quirked and he bent to plant a kiss on her lips. "My family has always displayed remarkable stamina when it comes to finding and keeping women." He kissed her again, this time allowing his tongue to dip into her mouth. "You of all people should know whether my family's reputation is well earned."

He continued to kiss her until her arms twined around his neck and she leaned against him. With a satisfied murmur, he took her hand to lead her to the next picture. He brought the candelabra closer. "This is the first Gervase's oldest surviving son. It was he who began to build this house."

Elizabeth angled her head to one side to observe the smug face of the second Gervase. He sat in a high-backed chair, two hunting dogs at his booted feet. His outstretched hand pointed imperiously to a map of the New World on the right of the picture. Elizabeth frowned as she tried to make out the details of the map.

After examining it and trying to ignore the feeling of Gervase's hard fingers circling her waist and nudging her breast, she wriggled to be set free. She closed her eyes as Gervase allowed her to slide intimately down his body. He kept his hand splayed over her stomach as he held her tightly against his hardening cock.

"You were saying, my dear?"

"Was your ancestor involved in the sea trade?" She sounded breathless and she feared Gervase would know why.

His fingers shifted upward and tightened over her breast as he bent his head to nuzzle her neck. "Yes, I believe he was."

Elizabeth watched his finger and thumb rotate around her nipple. When she tried to move, her knees refused to cooperate. "Gervase," she whispered as he continued to nibble his way up to her ear. "I cannot concentrate on the paintings if you do this to me."

"Well, I suggest you try harder, ma belle , for I've no intention of stopping."

Elizabeth cast an anguished glance at the long wall of portraits and wondered how she would survive. With the determination worthy of a highly educated woman she managed to walk the few necessary steps to the next portrait. A woman dressed in the Elizabethan style gazed out at her. She wore a highly starched ruff around her long swan-like neck and a low square-cut bodice edged with precious jewels. Despite her youth, she seemed remarkably self-possessed. The cat-like slant of her gray eyes was identical to the present duke's.

Elizabeth bit her lip as Gervase caged her again, one arm across her hips and the other across her breasts. A wave of desire swept through her, urging her to rub herself against the steel bands of Gervase's arms. His fingers slid inside her bodice and she went still.

"This is the second Gervase's oldest daughter. If you can guess what her name is, I will give you a kiss."

"I would assume she was called either Mary or Elizabeth after one of the Tudor queens."

Gervase turned her to face him. "Clever girl. She is my other Elizabeth." He paused to rub his thumb over her mouth. "May I claim my kiss now?"

Her lips parted and he took possession of her mouth. She allowed the rising heat of her passion to spill over into her kiss and felt his body tightening in response. When he pulled away she almost screamed. He stared down into her stormy eyes and smiled.

"I know what you want, Elizabeth, but you have not yet earned it." He gestured at the remaining portraits. "I'm so looking forward to your intelligent remarks about my other ancestors."

When they reached the end of the room and were about to turn to view the remaining portraits, Elizabeth was having great difficulty in finding anything at all to say. But whenever she stopped talking, Gervase withdrew his attentions from her needy body. Only her increasingly distracted comments about the paintings were rewarded by the sure touch of his hands and his mouth.