Painting Rain (Books of Dalthia Book 4)

by Annette K. Larsen

  I descended the stairs, trying to walk with grace and dignity and probably failing. There was a room behind the staircase, not often used, and I hoped that I could make it there without attracting the attention of anyone but West.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs and caught his eye before turning away and walking down the little hallway behind the stairs and into the room. It was empty just as I hoped, and when I turned back to the doorway, he stood there, wearing the uniform of the king’s guard and looking more delectable than any man had a right to. I wanted to rush to him, to reach out and lace my fingers with his, but my nerves assaulted me and I couldn’t find my voice or the strength to move.

  So I took in the sight of him, aware of the sound of my breathing, louder than it should have been. I took in the way his hair swept back from his forehead, the way his brows shadowed his eyes so perfectly, and the small scar on the left side of his chin.

  After a minute or possibly five, he finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he said in a rush. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I never should have left you there. I didn’t have the right—”

  He cut off when I shook my head vigorously. “You did the right thing. I hated it,” I admitted, “but I needed it too.”

  His whole frame relaxed as he let out a sigh. He stepped forward and I was able to meet him halfway, dropping my book as I reached for him. He took both of my hands, holding them against his chest. “I missed you,” he murmured before bringing one of my hands and then the other to his lips to leave a kiss on the back of my fingers.

  “And I you,” I whispered, drawing closer, pushing myself up on my toes without consciously deciding to.

  He bent to meet me, his lips firm and insistent as his mouth pressed to mine and I breathed him in, happy to be reminded of just how right it felt to be surrounded by West’s warmth.

  He pulled back and ran his fingers through the hair above my ears. I dropped my eyes to where my hands rested against his chest and fingered the gold tassels that adorned the right side of his uniform.

  “My father’s colors look good on you.” I looked back up at him with a grin.

  He smiled, but looked away, almost as though my compliment had embarrassed him. His brow furrowed in amusement or confusion, or possibly both as he looked at the ground beside me. Then he bent and picked up the sketchbook that had fallen, a smirk curling his mouth as he straightened. “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

  I looked at the sketchbook and realized it was open to a drawing of him. I flushed and tried to pull it away, but he held on with a teasing grin.

  I tried to look defiant, or at least confident as I answered. “Who else did you expect me to sketch as I waited to see if you would notice my return?”

  “Believe me, no one was more annoyed than I when I realized you were here and I hadn’t known it right away. I had an assignment that took me away from the castle for most of the day.”

  A little surge of happiness made its way through my chest, but I was also reminded that he was probably on duty just now. “And what of your duties this evening? I don’t suppose you can simply while it away with me.”

  He rested his hand against the side of my neck, and I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. “I’m afraid not. I’ll need to report very soon.”

  I nodded, trying to be understanding and not show my disappointment.

  “But I will find you as soon as I have a moment.” He tapped the edge of my sketches. “And when do I get to see the work you’ve done while away?”

  I bit my lip, suddenly nervous and anxious. He wished to see my work. “I still need to unpack them. Perhaps tomorrow sometime.”

  “I look forward to it.” He pressed one more kiss to my mouth before bidding me good day.

  I spent the evening unpacking and arranging my paintings in my studio with Ella’s help. I even convinced myself to confide in her, to tell her of West and the sweet romance I had lived over the past six months. I enjoyed her astonishment, as well as her complete willingness to be thrilled for me. She didn’t once mention propriety or duty. She reveled in my happiness with me and poured out her praise over each of my paintings.

  Once I had them arranged to my satisfaction, I retired to bed, anxious to see West on the morrow.

  ✼ ✼ ✼

  Something woke me from my sleep. I turned over, looking out the window, which framed the stars and a moon high in the sky, but no hint of dawn. I turned the other way, looking at my door, and noticed a faint glow coming from beneath it. Was it a candle? Had someone forgotten to snuff it out?

  Then a soft knock sounded at the door, and I sat up, fully alert. I slipped from my bed and donned my wrapper before padding ever so quietly to the door. “Yes?” I asked.

  “Will you come out?”

  I smiled at the distinct sound of West’s voice. What was that scoundrel doing coming to my door at this hour? I opened the door to see him standing there, still in his uniform. Saints, but he was handsome.

  I slipped into the hallway with him, my smile no doubt matching the mischief in his. “Are we going to go for a midnight stroll?”

  He shook his head and reached for my hand. “No, there’s merely something I needed to say.”

  “Very well.” I slid my hand into his and stepped closer, close enough to see the candlelight reflected in his eyes. Reaching up with my other hand, I traced my fingers along his brow.

  He sighed at my touch. I smiled and covered my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “You shouldn’t distract me,” he chided.

  “My apologies,” I responded, trying to contain a grin. “What was it you needed to tell me?”

  He took a deep breath before beginning. “I have every intention of asking your father’s permission to court you properly—very soon. However, I wanted to be sure that I did this first. Just you and me, without anyone else to interfere or make demands or lay their expectations on our shoulders.”

  I bit my lip and waited.

  His eyes searched mine, leaving a soft caress on my face. “I love you, Raina. I want you to know that. I can’t say when exactly it happened, only that by the time I recognized it, I was so in love with you that I knew there was no going back, no getting out of it. And even if there was, I didn’t want a way out.”

  I looked down, my eyes stinging as I realized how long I had waited for those words. I stepped a little closer before looking into the intensity of his waiting eyes. “I never thought I’d hear such words from someone as good as you. I don’t think I can ever deserve them, but I will joyfully accept them.” I smiled and blinked back my tears. “I didn’t realize how much I could love until I discovered what loving you felt like.”

  He set the candle on a table so that his hands were free to wrap around me, to pull me closer. He left a kiss on my lips so sweet that it made me tingle.

  “And I do love you,” I whispered, “so much.”

  He smiled and returned his lips to mine, allowing me to soak in several moments of bliss, before saying, “Until tomorrow,” and sending me back into my room.

  I leaned against the door, warm with the euphoria of being loved, and listened to his retreat. I grinned at the impropriety of his coming to my door in the middle of the night. I should be ashamed, but his intentions were so clearly noble that I couldn’t manage it.

  I went to sleep happy and woke in the morning energized.

  ✼ ✼ ✼

  After breakfast, I went to my studio, happy to have the chance to see my paintings in full daylight. The final arrangement had put my Painting Rain piece on full display, because that was what I most wanted West to see. Sarah helped me to adjust their positions so that they caught the light, and when we were nearly finished, she asked, “Has West seen them yet?”

  My spine stiffened, but I tried for a normal tone as I asked, “What do you mean?”

  She tilted her head and gave me a wide-eyed look that clearly indicated she wasn’t fooled by my nonchalance. “It was my idea for father to
ambush West. I knew you were waiting to see him, so I thought I would speed things along.” Her expression suggested she was quite proud of the ruse.

  My mouth gaped for a moment before her meaning sank in. “How long have you known?”

  She smiled. “Long enough. And I wish you both the very best. He’s a good man, Highness.”

  I blushed to think what she might have witnessed, but was glad of the support. “Thank you, Sarah. And thank you for keeping my secret.”

  She dipped into a curtsey. “A pleasure, Highness.” She excused herself and I was left to shake my head. All this time I had had an ally and hadn’t known it.

  I stepped back to survey my paintings once more, nodding to myself in approval. West had told me he would find me when he had a moment, so I escaped to the gardens to sketch and pass the time until he was off duty.

  Even though I was anticipating his arrival, he managed to sneak up on me, asking, “Is that Ingrid and Maxwell?” and making me jump.

  “Sorry,” he said through a laugh as he sat close to me, placing a kiss on my cheek. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Always,” I answered. “And yes, this is Ingrid and Maxwell.”

  He returned his attention to my sketch of Ingrid and Maxwell’s faces gazing at one another. He raised one eyebrow. “Is this true to life?”

  “They’re quite smitten with each other. I’m hoping to hear of an engagement soon.”

  “Mm,” he murmured, leaning in. “Very exciting.” He touched a teasing kiss to my mouth, leaving me grinning. “And what of your other works?” He kissed me again. “Do I get to see them now?” Another.

  I laughed against his lips. “Not if you are distracting me so thoroughly.”

  Another kiss. “You mean I must choose between kissing your sweet mouth and seeing the brilliant work you’ve created?” And another.

  I placed a hand against his chest and pulled back so that I could look him in the eye. I tried to look stern as I said, “Yes.”

  He gave a dramatic sigh and hung his head. “Very well. I suppose I can be a gentleman if it means I get to see your recent creations.” He stood and pulled me to my feet, leaving one more peck on my lips before turning toward the castle.

  He could always make me smile.

  I tried to control my grin as we entered the palace. West followed me into my little studio, leaving the door open. My stomach gave a flutter of nerves before I stepped aside, leaving him with a clear view of the painting set up in the corner. I knew the moment he saw it. His step slowed before he continued forward, his gaze fixed on the image of me putting my brush to the raining sky.

  Watching him made me nervous. I felt like he already owned a piece of this painting, and his opinion would mean everything.

  I reminded myself to breathe as he stopped directly in front of it. His body stilled, but his eyes swept the canvas, taking in every detail. The regular bustle and palace noise was just a hum, indistinguishable and unimportant in the moment.

  “You told me to paint something spectacular,” I said.

  He didn’t turn to look at me, but shook his head slowly back and forth. “It’s extraordinary…. It’s so different from anything I’ve ever seen you do, anything I’ve seen anyone do.”

  “It’s not perfect,” I said, though that fact didn’t bother me as it once would have.

  “That’s what makes it brilliant,” he stated immediately.

  I stepped forward until I was at his side, then reached for his hand. His fingers slipped easily around mine. “How so?” I asked, tilting my head to try to see what he saw.

  “It’s not reality.” He reached out a finger, but didn’t quite touch the canvas. “It isn’t trying to be true to life. Instead it captures a dream, a fanciful, unusual reality. It should be imperfect because it’s about reaching for other possibilities.” He turned to look at me and gave a little shrug. “At least that’s what I see.”

  “Possibilities?” I wrapped my other hand around his.

  “Endless possibilities.”

  My eyes crinkled and my cheeks almost ached with happiness. “Funny. That’s what I see when I look at you.”

  He smiled, leaning in, and I closed my eyes and let him kiss me, let our possibilities reach for one another and create a new reality, one that was beautifully imperfect.

  The End

  About the Author

  I was born in Utah, part of a crazy, fun family of nine. I grew up in Flagstaff, AZ and St. Louis, MO before striking out on my own college adventure in Virginia. I decided to try my hand at writing novels after I was married and living in Idaho. I write clean romance because it’s my favorite genre, but often difficult to find.

  I have Charlotte Brontë to thank for the courage to write novels. After being bombarded with assigned reading about women who justified abandoning either their families or their principles in the name of love, I had the great fortune of reading Jane Eyre. And that was it: finally, a heroine who understood that being moral and making the right choice was hard, and sometimes it hurt, but it was still worth it. After rereading it several years later, I realized that if I wanted more books to exist with the kinds of heroines I admired, then I might as well write a few myself. My books are about women who face hard choices, who face pain and rejection and often have to face the reality of sacrificing what they want for what is right. The consequences are often difficult or unpleasant, but in the end, doing what’s right will always be worth it.

  I believe there is no substitute for good writing or good chocolate. Fortunately, one often leads to the other.

  Acknowledgements

  I never imagined when I started writing Just Ella that writing was something I could turn into a career, one that I love. So many people have helped me along the way. This book in particular required a lot of prompting because I knew I had to tell Raina’s story, but it didn’t come as easily as the others have. Thank you to all those who insisted that her story must to told.

  Thanks to Cameron, my love, for supporting me in endless ways. Thanks to my kiddos who like to ask me if I’ve finished my next book yet. Thanks to my editor, Jana Miller, who not only makes me sound smart, but helps my stories shine. Thanks to Jennifer Fauset for another wonderful cover image, and to my niece, Madeline, for being a willing model. Thanks to Christine Anderson for calling me and wanting to brainstorm plot ideas. Thanks to Cherise Davies for lending her artistic expertise. Thanks to Kimberly Jepson for the extra copyedit, and to my parents, who are always excited for me, no matter how many times I bug them about my writing.

  To My Readers

  Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed Lorraina’s story. As an indie author, your support and feedback makes all the difference in how I judge the success of my books. Please take just a minute to leave a review for other potential readers on Amazon, Goodreads or anywhere else. Word of mouth is essential for me to get the word out, so if you enjoyed reading Painting Rain, tell a friend!

  You can also visit my blog (www.annetteklarsen.com) and leave me a comment, follow me on Twitter @AnnetteKLarsen, or on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/authoraklarsen.

  Happy reading!

  -Annette Larsen