“My eagle wasn’t such a mad idea,” she mused. She traced a fingertip along the graceful arch of the bird’s neck. “This is wonderful, but I daresay your singing pistol is even more fiendishly difficult to create on account of the miniature size.”
“It has its own unique challenges,” he murmured. “But then, all automata require a willingness to let one’s imagination run wild.”
On impulse—the Devil’s own wicked impulse—he took her hand and pulled her into a small anteroom off the main gallery. Unlike the main room, it had two narrow windows, mere slots in the mortared stone, originally made for archers and now covered with paned glass. A dribble of moonlight added a silvery cast to the flickering gold of the candle.
“Lord Dunbar keeps a few items in here that aren’t designed for public view.” Devlin indicated a length of black velvet draped over a large object. “Suffice it to say, they are rather provocative, so you might not care to view them.”
Her brows angled up. “Is that a challenge?”
He shrugged in answer.
Anna hesitated no more than an instant before venturing a peek under the cloth. A sound—a laugh? a squeak?—seemed to lodge in her throat. “Help me unveil it. I think it needs to be seen in all its glory.”
Devlin folded back the heavy fabric and dropped it atop a pile of other draperies. Lifting the lantern he let the light play over the exquisite detailing of carved ivory and precious metals. The automaton showed a couple on a coverlet of scarlet silk, entwined in the throes of passion. On toggling one of the lady’s upraised legs, the man’s hips began to rise and fall.
As she watched intently, he tried to gauge her reaction. However her expression, that bland Mayfair ballroom mask of politeness that she could slip on in the blink of an eye, gave nothing away.
“It’s Italian and was made by a Florentine master craftsman in the 17th century.” The lady’s head began to turn from side to side, setting her luxurious tangle of tresses to caressing the silk. “Her hair is made of real gold threads, and her eyes are Chinese jade,” he added. “Legend has it that Casanova once owned this piece.”
“I can well believe it, given his appetite for the opposite sex.” She crouched down for a closer look. “Good heavens, the anatomical rendering appears remarkably accurate.” The male lover rose and fell again. “Um, for the most part, that is.”
“Oh? Is something not quite right?” Devlin knelt down beside her.
After observing another gyration, Anna answered, “Not that I have a great deal of expertise in judging such matters, but the male appendage seems…a trifle exaggerated.”
“Are you saying I have a shortcoming?” he drawled.
Was it just the shadows or was she blushing?
“I—I haven’t enough experience to say one way or another.” Her eyes remained on the mechanical couple. “I have a feeling that the classical Greek and Roman statues I’ve viewed are not true to life. Nor, for that matter, are the sketches in my father’s books on primitive cultures and their rituals.”
Without all the layers of feminine frills between them, Devlin was intimately awar
e of the heat radiating from her body. It was making his skin prickle.
He found his gaze drawn to the pile of folded cloths beneath the windows and found the black velvet stirred a sudden rush of evil thoughts.
Evil, evil.
He had brought her here for reasons of strategy, not seduction.
Ah, but I’ve always been a weak-willed devil.
“Marble and paper are no substitute for empirical observation.” He curled his arm around her waist. “Come. Seeing as your father taught you to appreciate the importance of serious scholarship, I suggest that we further your education.”
“I’m not sure my father would approve of this sort of empirical observation.” And yet, Anna let herself be lifted up and carried to the bed of draperies. The stone-chilled air made her acutely aware of Devlin’s warmth beneath the rippling of corded muscle and hard…
She shifted in his arms, feeling a naughty thrill tickle between her thighs as his arousal rubbed against her.
“On the contrary, it sounds to me as if he encouraged his all daughters to be curious.” He set her down. “And adventurous.”
The nap of the cloth was softly sensuous against her palms. Anna imagined it would feel very nice against her bare bum. A most improper thought, she knew. But somehow wearing a man’s clothing seemed to free her of more than mere physical constraints.
Why can’t I be a little wicked? Ladies ought to be allowed the same freedom as men. On that her father had wholeheartedly agreed.
Drawing her knees to her chest, she answered, “Yes, he did encourage us to explore. But he also took care to explain that there were dangers and that we must understand and accept the consequences of our actions.”
“It sounds as if he was a very wise man.”