Dark Masterpiece (Serendipity Series 3)

by Brieanna Robertson

  “I know. It’s breathtaking.”

  “At times I paint on my terrace. Usually when the moon is full. It gives everything a different perspective.” He glanced at her. “Perhaps at the next full moon you could join me. See what inspiration the nocturnal world has to offer you.”

  She grinned. “I’d like that.”

  He nodded. “When we return, I think we should get you started on painting. You need to get over your fear of it.”

  Evie looked down and swallowed. She studied the patterns in the sand. “All right,” she said, her voice sounding meek and tiny. The truth was, she was horrified to paint in front of him. Painting on her own in her apartment where no one could laugh at her was one thing. Even painting for class was safe, but to paint in front of the greatest artist in the world? What if he thought she was no good? Traevyn was anything but tactful. He would call her a talentless amateur right to her face. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle that.

  Seth sat down next to her and put the volleyball next to him. “I dare you to jump in the ocean,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It’s freezing.”

  “Wuss,” he taunted.

  “You go jump in it if you’re so tough.”

  “I would.”

  She met his eyes in challenge. “Do it then.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t feel like it.”

  She shook her head. “Whatever. You’re the real wuss.”

  Traevyn smirked. “You know, it’s not very manly to go against your word. You’ll never be able to woo a girl if you claim false things or make empty promises just to make yourself look better.”

  Seth stared at him and snorted. “Are these words of experience? I don’t see the chicks lined up outside your door.”

  “Seth!” Evie scolded. Her face burned with embarrassment over what Seth had said. She had finally gotten Traevyn to associate with them on some sort of amicable level and now he was being completely out of line.

  Traevyn gave an enigmatic smile. “I am not actively pursuing a lady, but even though I’m not, I still do not claim false things.”

  Seth frowned and folded his arms. “Let’s see you jump in the ocean, tough guy.”

  Evie sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Seth, I think you’re missing the point.”

  Traevyn stood without a word and calmly began to unbutton his shirt.

  Evie’s eyes widened. “Don’t listen to him!” she cried. “He’s a bratty teenage boy!” He looked down at her and she thought she might have detected the faintest glimmer of mirth in his light eyes.

  “A real man also never backs down from a challenge.” He removed his shirt and handed it to Evie. “Hold this for me, if you would.”

  She stared up at his now shirtless body and her mouth went dry. His shoulders were broad and his waist and hips were narrow. His arms were well defined and muscles rippled across his back as he moved. Every line of his body seemed etched in elegance. He was just as beautiful as one of his paintings.

  Seth frowned and stood as well. Evie tore her gaze from Traevyn and looked over at her brother. “What are you doing?”

  “Like I’m gonna let him make me look like a pansy,” he grumbled. He threw his shirt down at her.

  “You are both out of your minds!” Evie cried. She watched as Traevyn started to make his way down to the shore. “You’re going to ruin your pants!” she exclaimed. “At least take your pants off!” The minute the words left her mouth, she felt her face flush with color. She shook her head and mentally kicked herself. Had she always been such an idiot? Traevyn stopped and turned to look at her over his shoulder. She waved her hand. “Can you just forget I said that?”

  He stared at her for a moment as she continued to squirm with embarrassment. The corners of his mouth quirked and, then, it was like a flower blossoming before her eyes. A slow smile spread across his lips and split into a grin. He chuckled.

  Evie watched him in awestruck silence, unable to believe what she was seeing. His entire face lit up with his smile; the brooding lines softened. Her heart melted at the sight of it. If her constant idiocy had caused that smile it had all been worth it. She smiled warmly back at him.

  Traevyn turned back to the ocean and waded out into it. When it was deep enough, he merely dove forward, directly into an oncoming wave. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t act like he was reluctant to get wet and cold. He just launched himself with grace right into the water and began to swim.

  “Hey! Wait for me!” Seth shouted. He tramped through the waves after him, splashing water every which way, and sort of belly flopped into the water. He jumped out almost immediately, screaming. “That is friggin’ cold!”

  Evie laughed as Seth stumbled out, trying to escape the freezing water as soon as possible. He had a strand of seaweed tangled around his leg, and he tried to kick it off. He only succeeded in tripping himself, and he collapsed right into the sand. Evie fell backwards, laughing hysterically. She looked up just in time to see Seth fling the seaweed as far as he could and curse.

  Traevyn had stopped swimming and was treading water, watching the scene unfold. Seth turned to him and gave a dramatic salute. “You’re a better man than me!”

  He ran back up to where Evie sat, shivering. “Gimme my shirt!” he demanded.

  Evie handed him his shirt, still laughing until her stomach hurt. He was only in his boxer shorts and the backs of his legs and butt were completely covered in sand. She glanced over at Traevyn, who was making his way out of the water, shaking droplets from his long hair. He walked leisurely back up to where Seth and Evie were, a small smile still playing about his lips. Evie held his shirt out to him and he took it with a nod.

  Seth still shivered and he looked at Traevyn, who was buttoning his shirt back up with calm, sure fingers. “You’re not even cold?” he cried. “Man, I don’t think you’re human.”

  “I swim in the ocean sometimes,” Traevyn stated. “The cold is invigorating. It wakes your body up. It makes you feel, reminds you that you are alive.”

  He said the words softly and it made Evie look up at him. It was so different from the bite that his voice usually had to it. He gave her a gentle smile and offered his hand to help her up. She took it, and marveled over how the iciness surrounding him seemed to have melted slightly.

  “I don’t feel invigorated,” Seth grumbled. “All I feel is sand up my butt crack.”

  Traevyn gave a soft laugh. He patted Seth on the back as they started back to the car. “It was a very valiant attempt.”

  Seth glanced up at Traevyn and shook his head. “I think the real lesson you were trying to teach me is not to be such a macho big mouth.”

  Laughter flew out of Traevyn’s mouth and it startled both Seth and Evie. Evie wanted to cry at hearing his laughter. It was beautiful. Deep and resonant, like music. All the shadows of pain and sorrow on his face seemed to vanish and, for a brief moment, he resembled that picture in his office. Hearing his laughter was so much better than hearing him sob. She wished she could have kept him laughing forever.

  She unlocked the car and opened the trunk so they could load their stuff in it. Seth got in the back seat and, as she went to close the trunk again, Traevyn came to stand beside her. “Evie,” he murmured. She looked up at him and he lifted her chin with his forefinger. He bent to press a light kiss to her cheek.

  Evie froze and her heart made a dull thud in her chest. As he pulled away, she gazed up into his light green eyes in confusion.

  “There was a time when I most certainly thought I would never laugh again,” he said. “Truly, I had forgotten what laughter felt like. Thank you for reminding me again… Even if it is just for a moment….”

  She stared up at him, finding it difficult to breathe all of a sudden. Who said stuff like that? And who said it like they were from a different century? She wondered if Traevyn really had time traveled at some point. She couldn’t think of anything to say in response so she just gave a lame nod.


  He smiled. “We shall paint when we get home, all right?”

  She nodded again. There went that formal, medieval speech again. She didn’t know why, but she found it terribly sexy. He brushed past her and went to get in the car. She headed to the driver’s seat, wondering why her hands were shaking so much and why her heart felt like it was going to explode at any given moment. She touched her cheek absently, thinking it was a little bit strange that she could still feel the soft impression of his lips there.

  Chapter Eight

  Evie hated that she was a nervous wreck while waiting for Traevyn in his studio. She twisted her fingers, then adjusted the canvas on her easel again just to try and give herself something to do. The door opened and she jumped as he strode in with clean, dry clothes on and his hair pulled back in a damp ponytail. He looked at her and smiled.

  “Are you ready to get started?” he asked.

  She heaved a sigh. “I guess so.”

  He frowned. “You guess so? You are an artist, correct? Do you plan to make your living off of sketches alone? I somehow doubt that you would be Professor Roth’s chosen one if you did.” He pulled a fresh canvas out and set it on his own easel. “Why does painting intimidate you when drawing does not?”

  She shrugged. “It’s more permanent. If I mess up, I can’t erase it. Not everything’s in black and white. Color is important. I’m always afraid I won’t be able to convey what I’m trying to.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry about trying to convey anything. Art shouldn’t be about thinking. Art is self expression. Colors represent feeling. Close your eyes and think about how you feel, then choose a color to represent your emotion. It doesn’t matter what color it is. Some people may choose blue or gray to represent melancholy, but there is no standard set for what you have to choose. That’s the beauty of art. To you, maybe chartreuse is a depressing color. No one has the right to tell you otherwise. It’s your self expression.”

  She felt color creep into her cheeks for no reason at all. Even though her experience with Traevyn had been anything but what she had expected, the fact that she was still learning from the greatest artist of their day floored her. Sometimes she couldn’t believe she was actually there.

  “There are no limits in art,” Traevyn continued. “This—” he held up a paintbrush, “—is just an expression of this.” He placed his hand over her heart. “You paint what’s inside here and nothing else. Let this guide you and you will never make a mistake. The trouble is you have to free yourself. Remove all of your own limitations and criticism. Just let what’s inside of you come out.”

  She nodded, looking at him with rapt attention. Her heart beat out an erratic pattern beneath his palm and she hoped he didn’t notice. She realized that one long strand of his hair was free of the ponytail and hanging loosely in his face. She stared at it and had the insane urge to reach out and tuck it back. His jaw was very defined and his chin had a small cleft in it; for some reason, she found that very attractive.

  “Evie?”

  She snapped out of her wandering thoughts and met his eyes. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  His lips came together in a thin line of disapproval. “I can see my words make a real impression on you.”

  She blushed. “No, I’m sorry. I was just—” She shook her head. “Please go on. What you have to say is very important. I’m just…tired, I guess.”

  “Well, choose the kind of paint you want to use and we’ll get started.” He turned away and began to gather his supplies.

  Evie looked around and decided on acrylics. She didn’t think she could manage oil with her suddenly trembling hands. She selected her brushes and put a small amount of several colors on a pallet. She dipped her brush in red and poised her brush over the canvas, but couldn’t seem to hold it steady enough to draw a straight line, or anything else for that matter. Her hand shook like she was having a seizure. She frowned, put the brush in her mouth, and rubbed her hands together. This was stupid. So she was working with her idol. No big deal. He said himself there were no limits in art. He technically couldn’t laugh at her for her own “self expression,” unless he wanted to be labeled a hypocrite.

  Evie saw Traevyn glance at her out of the corner of her eye after she had prepared her materials. She knew she looked ridiculous. She pointed her brush at the canvas like she was trying to cast a spell on it and her hand trembled badly. She made a frustrated growl and tried to shake her hands, only to assume the same position with the same result.

  Traevyn smirked, set his tube of paint down and closed it, then went over to her. “Evie,” he said softly. She jumped and whirled to look at him. He gave her an amused smirk and placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “For goodness sake, take a deep breath.”

  She closed her eyes and forced air into her lungs, letting it out in a powerful rush.

  He took the paintbrush from her fingers and set it aside, then took her hands in his and rubbed them lightly. “Why are you trembling so much?”

  She looked down, a little more than humiliated at having him notice, and a little more than flustered at having him touch her. “I—I—It’s just…”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Evie. This is not a job interview and I am not appraising you for your worth. Just paint. I would never criticize, never condemn. Here, turn around.” He turned her toward the canvas and went to stand behind her. He picked up the paintbrush and put it back in her fingers, keeping his hand over hers. “Just let it flow through you,” he instructed. “The vision, the emotions, the inspiration. Let it come from within you. You are just the vessel the image is using to tell its story. Listen to it; let it guide you.”

  Evie closed her eyes as she listened to his deep voice. It was like black seduction, and he was standing very close to her. She felt the heat of his body and her fingers tingled from the touch of his hand on hers. She opened her eyes, swallowed hard, and applied the brush to the canvas, drawing out a sleek line of red.

  Traevyn smiled. “Good,” he murmured, keeping his hand in place over hers. “Just feel it, Evie.”

  Her heart refused to beat in a normal way, and she kept getting flashes of Traevyn at the beach shirtless and wet, laughing, grinning, kissing her cheek… Of his voice, and the feel of his touch, and that stupid strand of hair in his face… Before she knew it, she was painting almost wildly, her hand moving on its own.

  Traevyn stepped back, watching her. After a moment, he returned to his own canvas and began to work.

  An hour went by before Evie stopped. When she had exhausted her inspiration, she stepped back and looked at her work with a frown. It was the image of a heart being consumed in flames, but it was camouflaged in a background of blazing red and orange. She scratched her head. She knew it wasn’t finished, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

  “That’s very good, Evie,” Traevyn remarked as he glanced over from his own project. “What is it?”

  “I—I don’t know.” She gave him a nervous glance. There was a strong possibility that it might be lust, but she was not going to tell him that. “I don’t know how to finish it. I don’t feel it anymore.” Maybe if he came and stood close to her like he had done before… And speak to her in those sensual tones…

  “That happens,” he said. “Just leave it be. Finish it when it comes back to you.”

  She silently hoped it never did. Lusting after Traevyn Whitelaw was not something on her to-do list. It troubled her that she had felt it so strongly in the first place. The man was thirty years old and she was pretty sure that lusting after the person who was technically your teacher was ethically wrong somehow… Even if he was amazingly good-looking.

  She glanced over at his painting and raised an eyebrow in surprise. She wasn’t sure what it was going to be yet, but the colors were bright and vivid, something she had not seen in his work in quite some time. She smiled.

  The phone rang and he stepped away from his painting with a frown. Setting his br
ush down, he went to answer it. Evie studied his work while he was gone, then looked at hers some more. She smiled as she thought of how he had instructed her with such patience. She felt bad that she had thought he would be harsh and critical. The past several hours had shown her a side of Traevyn that she was eager to learn more about.

  The door opened and he came back in. Evie turned toward him with a smile. “Anyone import—” Her smiled faded and morphed into a look of concern. He was horribly pale and no trace of the momentary happiness he had been experiencing remained. He looked drawn and fatigued and so sad. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  He said nothing. He walked slowly to the painting he had been working on and stared at it for a long moment. Then, without warning, he grabbed a pocket knife that he used to sharpen his charcoal and drove it into the canvas.

  Evie let out a shriek and jumped backward in horror.

  Traevyn’s hand was shaking as he released the knife. He stared at the marred painting, breathing heavily. “I call this one Death of Passion. What do you think?” He fixed her with a sinister look.

  Evie let out a slow breath. “I think I need to go change my pants,” she grumbled. “Because I’m pretty sure I just crapped ‘em.”

  He kept his eyes on her for a breath or two, then lowered his gaze and gave a weak, sad smile. He sat down in his chair and rested his head in his hand wearily.

  Evie watched him, unsure of what to do. It was only after a moment that she realized he had tears running lonely trails down his cheeks. She stood frozen, immobile. What was she supposed to do? Traevyn was such a loner. She was still, more or less, a stranger. She had no idea how to offer comfort to someone who could be so cold and distant. She didn’t know how he would react to her attempt at comfort. Would he be offended? Or feel intruded upon?

  “Do you know what today is, Evie?” he murmured.

  She said nothing.

  “Three years ago today my daughter was killed.”