Averill: Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 3)

by Jackie Ivie

  “Really?”

  “Of course. Every other woman you meet falls into your arms at the first look from your dark eyes.”

  “It takes a bit more persuasion than that, I assure you.”

  “I still can’t marry you. I can’t. And you need to move. It will soon be time for Lady Brighten to interrupt. You don’t wish her to witness this, do you?”

  “Will it force your hand? If so, I can think of…other positions she can find us in.”

  Averill’s eyes widened, and her entire body flushed. His slight chuckle wasn’t helpful, either. More breath brushed her lips. She felt him bend closer…to touch his lips to hers? And she very nearly allowed it. Because it solved so much.

  She was being offered marriage. Marriage! And with such a man! He was amazingly handsome. He would make a stunning husband…one she could paint at will, with or without his clothing.

  Oh my! That image was completely off-limits! Averill scrunched her eyes shut. It didn’t help. She forced her mouth to work. “It wouldn’t be allowed, Antonio. You know it as well as I do.”

  “What could anyone do? I can arrange an elopement. We’ll be wed before anyone knows. Say the word, and it can be done. I promise. I have contacts...”

  His lips grazed her cheek. Averill slid from around him and ran to the other side of the easel, putting it between them. He grinned at her escape, as though it was a game.

  “It would be annulled, Antonio.”

  “Not if we act fast. I can get you with child before anyone questions your absence. We may not even make it through the wedding ceremony.”

  Sweet heaven, for the images that sentence conjured! Averill slapped her hands to her cheeks to hold the reaction in. That wasn’t working, either. She had to look away. She’d known Antonio had too much sensual attraction. It was even more vivid when he turned it all toward her. She shook her head, denying the images and his advance. She knew he was coming, using his cat-like walk. She couldn’t even hear his footsteps.

  “I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “And I can’t believe you’re turning me down, with little more than platitudes of society rules. Say something I’ll believe.”

  “I don’t love you,” she told him.

  Antonio stopped on the other side of the easel and stared at her. “You paint me as though you do.”

  “That isn’t love. That’s…desire.” Averill’s voice dropped as she admitted it.

  “Very well, it’s desire. I can live with that. For now.”

  Say yes, Averill. Say yes! What was wrong with her?

  “I love someone else,” Averill whispered.

  “Who is this man? The one that leaves you so alone? And vulnerable? Well? Tell me where he is so that I might challenge him! Well?”

  “I...I left him, Antonio.”

  “You left him. Why?”

  “I wasn’t good enough,” she whispered. “I harmed him by staying.”

  “What harm? This society nonsense you preach? He has no courage if he let you go.”

  “Please, Antonio? It’s a painful memory. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  “You love him this much?”

  She nodded.

  “Then, go to him. I will help. This man must know of your actions. You shouldn’t make his decision for him.”

  “He...didn’t offer marriage.”

  “And you toss it in my face when I do? I don’t understand. Are you crazed?”

  Averill giggled. She must be.

  “How is the session going today, Averill? I understand the Dona is getting a bit anxious about your progress. I’d hate to disappoint her.”

  Lady Brighten’s voice preceded her into the studio. Averill dropped her eyes to the splotched canvas she’d been working on. Antonio followed suit.

  “We...we were just discussing that, Lady Brighten. Weren’t we, Don Antonio?”

  Averill didn’t recognize her own voice as she spoke in the subservient tone she was using whenever her patron was near. She knew it bothered Antonio. His hands were making fists at his side.

  “Oh, dear. You’re right. What has happened? Perhaps tomorrow’s session will go better?”

  “I may not be available tomorrow, Lady Brighten.”

  “Oh please don’t say that, Don Antonio. I know how much Averill looks forward to your sittings.”

  That was a lie. Averill suffered hunger-stealing nausea every morning because of Antonio’s upcoming sittings.

  “This can’t go on much longer,” Antonio spoke in low tones.

  “Let’s try again. I’m certain Averill can get it right. I’m certain tomorrow will go better.”

  “I’ll not stay at your whim forever. You realize this?”

  He wasn’t speaking to Lady Brighten, although she answered.

  “Of course we do. Don’t we, Averill? We’ll see you on the morrow then, Don Antonio?”

  “Perhaps the day after. I have business on the morrow. It has to do with a small banking matter. You understand?”

  Averill met his gaze and he winked. Just like that first time. And the same thing happened. She blushed and averted her eyes.

  “Of course, Don Antonio, of course. It must be a trial to come here day after day for a busy man such as yourself. Averill will paint you when you can find time. Won’t you, Averill?”

  “Of course,” she answered.

  He bowed briefly toward them and left. She watched him the entire time. Lady Brighten did, too.

  She really was crazed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “There’s a masquerade tonight, Averill. Will you meet with me?”

  Averill looked up from contemplation of her palette to the dogs she was adding to the comte’s family portrait. Neither of them could speak, and she wondered where the voice she recognized came from.

  “Antonio, show yourself.”

  “You shouldn’t leave your windows open, beautiful maiden. You never know what sort of thief may be lurking about.”

  He stepped from behind the drapes and looked at her with those fathomless, black eyes. Averill gasped. “That window is three stories above the street!”

  “True. But I am very agile. Would you care for a demonstration?”

  “Oh. Antonio. You really shouldn’t be here. You can’t be seen! Your portraits were sent over yesterday.”

  “True, but they didn’t come with an answer. So, I asked myself. How can she avoid me? And how could I breach the fair maiden in her tower? You do understand, don’t you?”

  “I’m not discussing marriage with you, Antonio.”

  “Will you be my mistress, then?”

  Averill’s lips quirked, and then she chuckled. “You’re outrageous.”

  “Is that a yes? Or close?”

  “You have so many to choose from Antonio. Why do you pester me?”

  “You call my attention pestering? I’ll have you know I am much in demand with the ladies. I do not have to sneak up here and listen to such rejection. The more I think of it, the more crazed I think I am becoming. Why am I here?”

  “I’m the forbidden fruit, remember?”

  “Oh. Yes. That’s it. So, will you attend?” He settled the drape back into position and came toward her. “I don’t know why I ask anything. You continually say no. Have you considered saying yes to one of my offers? Perhaps that would make you easily conquered, and I’ll be off to find my next forbidden fruit. Well?”

  “Yes, I’ve considered it, and I’ve decided that maybe I like your attention.”

  “Truly? That’s encouraging. So, what do you say?”

  “To the marriage? Or attending this fest with you?”

  “Both. Either.” He sat on the floor near her feet and studied her subjects. “They’ve got you painting dogs now?”

  “They aren’t just any dogs, Antonio. They belong to Dachon.”

  “The comte? Oh. Forgive my ignorance. I stand corrected.” He didn’t sound the least apologetic.

  Averil
l picked up her brush again. “You can’t be in here, Antonio. Imagine the scandal.”

  “It was as nothing in comparison to your portrait, Averill. Grandmamma was in ecstasy. I’ve rarely seen her so spry. She doesn’t realize it’s the same one, either.”

  “Oh, Antonio, forgive me. I will reimburse my share of the fee, but with Lady Brighten...I—well. My hands are tied. I’m sorry.”

  “Marry me, and all these debts? They will disappear.”

  “That isn’t what you said yesterday.”

  “Oh, very well. You have no debt. Not after the black picture. You already know how I feel about it. Do you want me to show it to Grandmamma?”

  “Her heart might not be able to handle the shock.”

  “I think you would be surprised if she ever told you of her past. She and your father...well, I leave it to you to imagine.”

  “Antonio!”

  “Do you ever wear anything other than that shapeless smock? I’ve a mind to see you in something...more revealing.”

  “You mustn’t ask such a thing, Antonio, and I mustn’t listen to you. It’s indecent.”

  “Why? Because you won’t say yes? You are cruel. I’ll be forced to ask for my betrothed’s hand, yet.”

  “You see? I was right. You do have one.”

  “I’m the Marchese Dilan-Fiorri, Averill. I’ve been betrothed since birth. But I’m not wed yet, despite their words. Ugh. I shudder at the thought.”

  “Of their censure? Imagine how much worse it would be if you eloped with me.”

  “No. I shudder at the thought of bedding her. They don’t know what they ask.” His dark eyes clouded over. “I hate her. How can you – forgive my bluntness – but how is it possible to bed someone you hate? Is there enough wine, do you think?”

  “Perhaps it won’t be that bad. You’ll see.”

  “You sound like my uncle.”

  “Why must you marry a woman you hate?” She added purple to the spaniel’s coat on the canvas. The color brought out a reddish shine.

  “Because you won’t have me.”

  The dogs might have soul-filled eyes, but Antonio rivaled them. “Are you trying to force my hand?” she asked.

  “Is it working?”

  “Almost.”

  “Then, I must torment you with thoughts of my future some more. Yes, I have an ancient title. It comes with a villa in the countryside, a mountain chateau, controlling interest in the Fiorri Bank, several more properties that will pass to me upon my grandmother’s death…oh! I also have a stipend of eighty liras a month to spend as I please. Does any of that impress you?”

  “Yes,” she said tightly.

  “The last can’t be taken away, either. No matter what horrid deeds I do. Why, you ask? Because it was part of my mother’s dowry and passed to me upon her death. I don’t need my betrothed’s dowry, I don’t.”

  Averill’s mind was spinning. Antonio wouldn’t be destitute if he married her. The instant thought was unsettling. It made her feel calculating and cold like the Lady Brighten.

  “Does that influence you, at all?”

  “I wish you hadn’t said anything about it, Antonio.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now I can’t think without knowing there’s security. I…I don’t think I can marry for such a thing.”

  “You are a difficult woman. You don’t want the danger of a penniless rebel, and you don’t want a wealthy, young, masculine, handsome, ‘god-among-men’. Do you know what you want?”

  “I already told you. I want love.”

  “Oh! How I wish I were you! Imagine being able to hold out for such a thing! Free to go as I please, see who I please, and do what I wish to do. The world would be at my feet. Think of the excitement.”

  “Antonio, I’m painting dogs.” She gestured at the animals.

  “Are you attempting to argue with me?”

  She laughed. The child kicked, startling Averill with the strength of it. She was nearing her fifth month. The bulge would be easily seen if she wasn’t wearing high-waist European fashion beneath a bulky smock. Any desire to laugh died.

  “I was starving, Antonio. I barely earned one meal a day before Lady Brighten sponsored me. I was lucky she found me.”

  “What? You owe her nothing! As far as I am concerned, the woman is a thief.”

  “Hush! Someone might hear you.”

  Fear made her voice sharp. One of the spaniels looked up from its pillow. Averill held her breath until the animal settled down again.

  “Will you be there?” Antonio whispered the words and raised his dark eyes to her.

  “Where?”

  His shoulders fell. “I talk and I talk, and you fail to hear a thing. Will you be at the masquerade?” he asked impatiently.

  “I can’t say.” She tipped a snout with a touch of winter white, making it look wet.

  “If you continue this lack of interest, I may have to find another petite l’amour.”

  “I think I shall envy her,” Averill said.

  “You are crazed.”

  Dark brows drew down over dark eyes as he lifted that one brow and regarded her. Averill had to lift her brush or the painting would suffer her reaction.

  “Not crazed. Realistic. She’ll be free to respond as you desire, whereas I? Alas, sweet prince, my heart is already taken.”

  “You treat me like a child. I don’t know why I stay and put up with it, either. It must be some flaw in my personality. Some weakness. Something.”

  “Forgive me, Antonio. I simply seek to keep it light-hearted. Life is too serious to have my time with you heavy-hearted, too. Will you forgive me?”

  “I have no choice but to accept such an apology. It is as sweet as the lips which speak it.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Oh. I forgot myself. I haven’t been allowed to touch them as yet. So, tell me. Will you attend?”

  “What is it about? How late will it be? Who else will be there?”

  “You’re worse than a debutante with her duenna at her heels, and I thought them formidable.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. It’s like a contest. And I always win. I have little trouble taking my kisses wherever I desire. Debutantes are fresh and unspoiled, but very well-guarded. They present a challenge to one such as I, and—! Why am I saying such a thing to you?”

  Averill grinned. “I don’t know,” she answered.

  “It’s because you are such a good listener. Most women make your head spin with constant chatter about nothing. You? You’re so different. So, will you?”

  “Attend the masque?”

  “Or marry me. I offer that, too.”

  “There are too many women out there for you to settle down with just one, Antonio.”

  He groaned. “You are setting me up to be an unfaithful husband like everyone else is. I detest that, although it is what makes the masquerade the excitement it is.”

  “Oh. I don’t think I wish to go, after all.”

  “Please, Averill? I misspoke. It’s nothing more than a big carnival. The waterways and streets will be filled with revelers. I’ve been designing my costume for ages.”

  “A costume? Why wear a costume?”

  “Everyone dresses for the masquerade. It’s great fun. Everyone – rich and poor alike – wears a mask. You don’t know who you might meet, or pair up with, or steal kisses from.”

  “It sounds…rather frightening.”

  Averill stepped back to review her work and tried to ignore his words. If she wore a mask, no one would know.

  “Frightening? No. It’s exciting, but if you’re frightened, I could meet you first. I would keep you safe.”

  “It would be boring for you to be saddled with a frightened woman, Antonio. Think of the dances you’d miss.” Averill reached for her solvent jar, doing her best to avoid where he sat beside it.

  “It wouldn’t be boring. I’d dance every dance with you, as many as you can take. Please, say you’ll com
e. Please?”

  “I…have no mask.”

  He grinned, his white teeth contrasting nicely with his coloring. “I’ll find you one. What color will you wear?”

  “Oh, Antonio, no. Help me see sense. I can’t go to a masked dance with you.”

  “You ask my help for that, when I’ve been pleading and begging for any attention at all? You can come, and you will. I’ll bring masks in several colors.”

  “I can’t be out too late. That is…if I decide to go.”

  “You must come! Even the Lady Brighten is attending at least one party tonight. I heard her speak of it at one of the functions I attended.”

  “What if I meet up with her? That wouldn’t do at all…especially with you as my escort. It’s best I don’t go.” Her shoulders sagged. She’d been insane to consider it.

  “You’re ashamed to be seen with me? This, I hadn’t considered. Is that why you continually turn me down?”

  “That isn’t it at all. You twist all my words. I would be honored to be seen beside you, but…she is my employer. I am a glorified servant. I am also a woman. And you are a very handsome man. A bit too handsome, I think.”

  “You finally notice? I have been doing my utmost to preen for you, and it takes you more than a month? Will I need wait another month for the right answer to my proposal?”

  Averill giggled again. “You are extremely handsome, Antonio. But I can’t marry you, although I do thank you for asking.”

  “Asking? I’ve been begging, pressuring and cajoling. I am ready to steal you.”

  “You aren’t planning...something like that at this masquerade, are you?”

  “I would never do something so under-handed, Averill. You have my word on it. I merely tease. It’s the only thing left me, isn’t it?”

  He was too handsome to absorb. Averill toyed with allowing a kiss, just to see if it would feel the same. She instinctively knew it wouldn’t. She didn’t love Antonio, although he elevated her pulse and stirred every sense.

  She wondered why that wasn’t enough.

  “I’ll meet you out there. Outside the gate. Leave your brush and come. See?”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. Averill could sense a tingle through her palm, especially when he didn’t let it go once they reached the window. Why wasn’t that enough?