“Are you sure, Sara? I would be more than happy to accompany you to the ceremony, if you wish.”
“Oh, no, Edward, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” I gazed at him with wide eyes, holding back my tears. I knew my reasons were shallow, that it was spineless of me not to attend, but although I was happy for both of them, it only made my situation all the more dire. I was pitiful and selfish, and it was easy for Edward to see through me, I was sure.
He waited a moment as if he understood. “Then how can I help?”
“I wish to send a monetary gift, to be used for their honeymoon.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed intently on me. “That’s very generous of you, Sara.”
I leaped to my feet, hoping that my generosity would somehow appease my own fears and sadness. Fear that I would grow old without someone to care for me as Deven had. I consoled myself that as a model there would be more work, if not with the brotherhood, then perhaps with other artists. I could build up my funds again and, in the meantime, plan my future travels. “Shall we get started, Edward?” I asked.
“You’re sure you’re feeling up to it?”
I rounded the edge of the table. “I’m fine, truly…at least, I will be. Let’s not speak of this again, agreed?” I stuck my hand out, hoping we could shake on it, be done with it. Edward’s grip was strong and my hand felt small in his. Then he did something I didn’t expect—he kissed my hand.
I pulled it away. “I do not want nor need your pity,” I warned.
“That’s not what I meant…” he started.
“No, marriage is not meant for women like me. I want more. I need more. There are places I want to see, things I want to learn.” Tears choked my throat. “How can I expect you to understand?”
“Sara, you don’t need to explain yourself,” he stated quietly.
I waved away my concern. “I just need some time to put it all in perspective. Just give me time, I’ll be fine.” Perhaps if I repeated the words enough I would truly believe them. “I’ll be fine.”
“Of course,” he said, offering me a smile, but his expressive green eyes gave away his true thoughts on the matter.
Two weeks before the holidays, Edward sold his painting of the Madonna, for which I’d posed, to a private buyer that Woolner had arranged. Thomas was not happy, however, stating that he should have saved it for the Spring Exhibition where he would have gotten top dollar for it. All the same, the sale had given Edward validation for his work and a boost to his artistic self-esteem.
Frustrated that his protégé did not consult him and notably agitated with his inability to come up with his next project, Thomas announced that he was leaving London for the holidays and going on a trip with his friend, John Millais.
“It will be a grand time, Edward. You should come with us. View the old churches, carouse the streets of Rome. I hear they are filled with stunning women.”
I stood on the balcony watching the first few flakes of snow beginning to fall on the city. Thomas thought I couldn’t hear him since the doors were closed, but he was mistaken. I heard every word.
“I have another project I’d like to start, Thomas. One I have in mind for the exhibition,” Edward said.
“Well, fine then, but don’t say I didn’t offer.”
“What about Sara?” Edward asked. “I wager she’d love Rome.”
“Sara, traveling in Rome with a group of men?” Thomas laughed. “No, not this time. Besides, if you’re going to have another project by deadline, you two will be working night and day.”
I was grateful that Edward had tried to persuade Thomas to take me with him. I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to tell Thomas about Amelia’s wedding, but it was apparent that he wouldn’t have gone even if I’d decided to attend.
“Sara?” Thomas bellowed.
I wrapped my coat tight around me and hurried inside, my face chilled from the cold. “Yes, Thomas?” I said, pretending I hadn’t heard their conversation.
“I’m off to Rome, my dear. I’ll write of course, and I don’t want you to worry. If you need anything, just put it on my tab at the store.”
“May I ask who else is going?” I flung my coat across a chair.
Thomas glanced up as he continued to stuff a few books into a small bag. “Oh, Millais, Hunt…”
“Grace?” I looked away. I felt cheap, as if I’d been discarded for the next best thing.
He lifted my chin. “There are no women joining us, Sara, or I would have asked you first.” He glanced over his shoulder at Edward. “As it is, it appears that you and the great artist have much to accomplish.” He placed a kiss on my forehead. “I’m off, you two. Stay out of trouble. You’re a lunatic, of course, for starting a project this late,” he said to Edward. “Happy Christmas!” He tromped down the stairs and the front door slammed.
“Happy Christmas,” I muttered.
I dug into the bottom of my dresser and found the stocking where I’d been hoarding my life savings. I carefully counted out half of the total and wrapped it in the brown paper that the art canvases came wrapped in. Spotting a fancy hair ribbon, I tied it around the packet and wrote a quick note to Amelia. Edward hired a carriage and took it himself to the farm. He told me later that he’d left it with a delightful woman with sparkling brown eyes.
I was pleased by his description. “She was happy, then? You stayed with her while she opened it?” I asked.
He cocked his eyebrows in question. “Those were your instructions, were they not?”
“Yes, thank you.” He grinned openly and I felt a small flip in my stomach.
“Over-the-moon would be a better way to describe her reaction, Sara.”
I sighed. “Good, I’m glad.”
“She asked me to thank you.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek.
I gave him a dubious look. “She told you to kiss my cheek?”
He stared at me a moment, stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and strode to his easel setting to the task of mounting a new canvas.
“I’ve got a new project in mind.”
There were times when I sensed there was much more to Edward Rhys than he let on. Perhaps I was simply fearful of getting too close to him, afraid of what I might find. He exuded an odd blend of masculinity and compassion, which I found intriguing. As he worked at mixing his paints, I sauntered to the corner where the props were stored. The brotherhood—Thomas in particular—took pride in their ability to bring a theatrical element to their work. Thomas had managed to acquire many interesting items while speaking to stage players over a drink, after a show.
“Is it mythological?” I looked over my shoulder and held up a gold urn, twice the size of a good melon.
He shook his head.
“Someone from the holy book, then? Rebecca, perhaps? Her story is a good one.”
“Could you face me, Sara?”
The insistence in his voice surprised me. I turned around. “You needn’t get nasty, Edward.”
His hand worked feverishly over the canvas and he swore under his breath every time a piece of his charcoal snapped off. This was his elusive side—serious, focused and obsessed. He was admittedly a handsome man, even with the scowl he had on his face at this moment. The thought caused gooseflesh to rise on my arms. We’d been cooped up too long in this studio. Part of my problem was that I was still angry with Thomas for going to Rome without me, and my only consolation was that Grace hadn’t gone with them.
“Edward, I think you and I should treat ourselves to a night out. Perhaps go to the theater. It is almost Christmas and we have not been out in weeks. We could go down to McGivney’s and see who’s there.”
He attacked his work with greater intensity. I waited patiently for his response, folding my hands in front of me. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” he replied, not looking up. “They’re all in Rome.”
“Maybe Grace will be there.”
“I have a deadline, Sara. Please be patient.”
The r
eprimand, however gentle, took me aback. “Fine. Do I need to stand?” I huffed.
“No, you can sit.” He peered over the edge of the canvas. “I didn’t think you liked Grace.”
I had pulled over a chair and started to sit, when Edward pointed to the couch. “I would prefer you sit over there.”
The memories of Thomas and that couch were too painful to dismiss. “I would rather not,” I said.
He peered over the edge of the canvas, his eyes steady on me.
“I’ll just sit here. It would be helpful if I had some idea of what your project involved.”
“Dammit to hell,” he muttered, clamping his hand over the edge of the canvas. “You,” he stated with a final bluntness.
“Yes, I know, and I’ll do my best, Edward. Just tell me what you want.” I was growing exasperated with his elusiveness.
“I…” He sighed and raked his hands through his wavy hair.
“Edward, calm down. Let’s just start at the beginning. What is your concept? What is it you wish to convey?” I folded my hands in my lap.
“Sex,” he bellowed.
“I see,” I stated quietly, and reached for the buttons on the front of my dress.
“No.” He tapped the top of the frame and looked out the French doors.
I waited for him to make up his mind. “Do you wish me to undress, Edward?”
“Yes.”
I undid a few more buttons.
“No.”
I stopped.
“I can’t do this, Sara. I can’t paint you. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
I was inclined, at the moment, to agree. Then again, I’d just given away over half my savings and where would that leave me if I quit now? I’d be without an income and with no prospects of one in sight over a very long and cold winter. I searched how best to encourage him. “It’s only temporary, Edward. All artists have their moments.”
“Dammit, this isn’t going to go away so easily, Sara.”
He grabbed the canvas and flung it across the room. I watched in surprise as it flew across the room, sailing over the writing desk and sending a crystal vase shattering to the floor. He paced back and forth, like a tiger I’d once seen at the zoo. I’d never seen him behave so violently. My heart pounded as I cautiously walked over and began to pick up the shards of glass.
“I’m sorry, Sara,” he said. “I don’t mean to frighten you.”
I found my tongue. “Well, I’m afraid you’re not going about it very well, Edward,” I said. “Maybe you could find me a dustpan?” He stalked to the kitchen and returned with one.
I started to sweep up the mess. “You’re a fine artist, Edward. I’m sure we can find you another model, better suited—”
“Where did you get that idea?”
I continued to sweep up the glass, dumping it in the wastebasket.
“You said you didn’t want me,” I tossed back.
“As…my…model,” he enunciated each word.
“Yes, I understand. I think I should go see if I can find something for us to eat, perhaps that would help.” I’d only taken two steps before he caught my arm and backed me up against the desk. “What are you doing?” He held my wrist, his stormy eyes piercing.
“I know you miss Thomas,” he said.
I grappled with the truth. “No, not that much, really.” I swallowed, my skin feeling flushed.
His gaze fell to my mouth “You’re certain of that?”
I licked my lips. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I am going to kiss you, Sara. It’s been eating me alive.”
“How do you know I want you to kiss me?” I swallowed.
The corner of his tempting mouth curled into a half smile. “I don’t, lass. But I’m willing to find out.”
I curled my fingers on the edge of the desk in anticipation.
“Sara, I am no good with flowery words. I had to be sure you were over Thomas, that nothing would come between us. I wouldn’t want to hurt either of you.”
His meaning now became clear. Good Lord, was I over Thomas? I looked into Edward’s eyes, thrilled by the hunger I saw, knowing it was for me. “What exactly are you trying to say?” I searched his face, needing to understand whether he imagined a quick affair or something else. Though in my present state, an affair would have sufficed.
“I’m trying to say that I don’t want you as my model anymore. I want you and quite desperately, but I won’t come between you and Thomas.”
His hand cupped my cheek and his fingers slid around my neck, drawing me to his mouth. “I have been in love with you for weeks—painting you, watching you day after day. I’ve rejoiced when you smiled and ached inside from your pain. You are a good woman, Sara—kind and generous. Is it any wonder that I would fall in love with you?” His thumb softly brushed the underside of my jaw.
His mouth followed the path of his thumb, causing my blood to course through my veins as he nibbled the sensitive spot beneath my ear.
“You can tell me to stop, Sara,” he whispered, heating my flesh.
He traced the low collar of my gown, his fingers skimming the swells of my breasts. My eyes drifted shut and I tipped my head to allow his tender exploration, my pulse pounding furiously.
His hands covered mine as he leaned forward to meld his mouth to mine in a slow and thorough kiss that caused my head to spin.
“God in heaven, don’t ask me to stop,” he said quietly. “This gown has got to go, Sara, I’ve got to have my hands on you.”
I lifted my arms and he drew the dress over my head. His eyes glittered with wicked hunger, seeing that I wore only my chemise beneath. He captured my mouth in a searing kiss, pressing against me to preview what I could have if I so desired.
“I mean to take you, Sara. Unless you have no desire for me.” He lowered his head and latched his mouth over my right breast, sucking hard and sending a current of pleasure to my center. I couldn’t believe this was Edward. He reached around me, shoving away everything on the desk, sending it flying in all directions as he hoisted me to the table. He eased me onto my back, gliding his large hand down my body, and lifted the hem of my chemise as he nudged apart my legs. The smooth wood was cool against the pads of my bare feet, braced on the edge of the table.
His breath played against my inner thigh as he parted my quim with his gentle fingers. A lusty sigh escaped my mouth and I lifted my hips to meet the insistence of his velvet tongue doing wicked things to my drenched clit. It had been so long since I’d felt these decadent sensations.
My hands roamed over my body, delighting at the luxurious pleasure. Between the delicious stroke of his finger and his ardent tongue, my body was driven to a frantic need. I heard the sound of my own cry as my body broke free. Edward yanked me upright, kissing me hard and rolled me to my stomach against the table.
“My turn,” he whispered, bending down to tease my ear with his tongue. He brushed my gown high over my hips and pushed into my slick heat with a guttural sigh. My breath caught as he began his slow and steady thrusts.
The hard tabletop caressed my breasts with each lunge, causing my body to grow tight. My reason grew dim as I surrendered to the euphoric bliss. He stopped suddenly, filling me to the hilt as he placed tender kisses at my neck.
His tenderness, combined with the fierce thrusts that followed brought my body to a dizzying need. “P-please, Edward.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear, Sara.”
His large hands were warm. I leaned my cheek against the desk, relinquishing my body to the pleasure building inside me. The low-timbre sounds he made heightened my arousal. His magnificent cock made me want to forget about Thomas and how he’d hurt me by not asking me to Rome. If I’d gone with him, I may have never experienced this. In a blinding moment, a strangled gasp tore from my throat and I felt my muscles clench around him. With a deep growl, he finished in a wild driving force, his fingertips digging into my flesh as his body jerked against me, emptying his hot seed.
&nbs
p; He pulled me into his warm embrace, softly whispering words in a language I didn’t understand. His hands rubbed my back, gently caressing as I listened to the steady thrum of his heart against my cheek. There was a sense of security, something I was not sure I’d ever felt with Thomas and would never have expected with Edward.
“Marry me, Sara,” he said quietly. “I’ll see to it that we go all the places you’ve always wanted to go.”
I molded my body to his, holding him tight, wanting to believe him, wanting to believe that it was possible to have a man to care for me and encourage my dreams, as well.
“I don’t want to wait, Sara. There’s a little chapel just over the border in my country. We can be married right away.”
“I don’t know what to say, Edward.” I leaned back in his arms and searched his face. Had I suddenly found the man who was everything I needed? It would be a surprise to many if I accepted his offer, especially to Thomas—and I realized I did love Edward in many ways. Companionship, trust and loyalty were as good as any building blocks to any happy marriage, weren’t they?
“How far away is the chapel?” I asked, feeling reckless.
He grinned with a confident, sensuous smile that promised a lifetime of carnal delights.
“We can leave tonight and be there by morning.” He picked me up and kissed me again. “Do you wish to wait until you’ve had a chance to speak to Thomas?” he asked, searching my eyes.
“I think he will be pleased for us, Edward. I shan’t worry about him, nor should you. The decision is mine.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him lightly, the kiss quickly turning heated.
“Sara, you’ve made me a very happy man,” Edward said against my lips between kisses.
I smiled and hugged his neck. “Do you mean to take me again, Mr. Rhys?”
He offered a roguish grin as he stepped free of his trousers and scooped me into his arms. “Aye, lass, and this time in my bed.”
I curled into his chest, hoping this feeling would never end.
Chapter 9
The Master & the Muses Page 21
