She chuckled. “Of course not. Music is, after all, art. Sit, then, for me. For a silhouette.” She’d not meant to say that but was glad she had. Not only because she wanted to catch the angle of his nose, the strong slope of his jaw perfectly, but because sitting for a silhouette could be an intimate experience. So muchgazing.
He winced and dropped the list to his lap. “No.”
“You will. You’re here as my guest, and I must take your silhouette.” She stood and moved toward the door in the corner of the room. It led out into the rose garden. A stroll would be nice, even in the cold and amidst the barren thorns. She felt too hot across from him. And she would give him no opportunity todeny her again. She did not look back to see if he followed, but the crunch of gravel behind her told her he did.
Soon, he came into view, matching his long stride to her shorter one, and as they walked in companionable silence, she floated off into a dream. This seemed an impossible thing coming to life between them, an opportunity she’d never hoped for. She must make the most of it, but she must exercise caution, too. What she wanted was not a cold partnership. She wanted love, if she could get it. But the man she wanted it from was not a creature of emotion.
Not quite true. The man felt deeply, and worked hard to hide it, to lock it away.
What would happen if she unlocked him?
“It is beautiful here,” he said. “I can smell the ocean. Why have you been away from here so long?”
“It is beautiful. But it is also isolated. I like people.”
“I think I’d prefer it here.”
“Briarcliff is beautiful, too.”
He shrugged, and his steps slowed. “It can be. I suppose I have no love for it anymore, though.”
“Why?”
Birds wheeled overhead, filling the silence with morning song.
“What’s that?” He put an arm out before her, and she knocked into it, the hard muscle of his arm a bar against her belly.
She gasped, her gaze riveted to the spot his was. “Who is that.”
They crept closer to the body stretched out before them.
“I think we can see that well enough,” he said.
Miss Angleton lay, snoring, a log across the gravel path before them. Drew cleared his throat. Still she snored. Ameliamarched right up to her and nudged Miss Angleton’s leg with her toe. Still the lady snored.
“Wake up!” Drew barked.
Miss Angleton snapped upright, eyes wide. “Oh!” She rubbed her eyes and blinked up at the sky, at them. “Lord Andrew. Mrs. Dart. Good morning.” She winced and pushed her fingertips into her temples, glared. “It’s much too bright out. What time is it?” She flopped back down into the grass.
“A quarter to eight last time I checked,” Drew informed her.
“Oh? Off to bed, then.” Miss Angleton stood and pushed between Amelia and Drew, then strode for the castle.
“Miss Angleton,” Amelia called out. “Did you sleep outside last night?”
“Who won the bottle of wine?” Drew mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and looking about the garden.
“I suppose Ididsleep outside,” Miss Angleton said. “Have you ever slept under the sky? It’s marvelous. I quite recommend it.” She narrowed her eyes and peered at Drew. “You look rather… approachable in the morning sunlight. My. The women at the agency may have been right about you.” She waggled her eyebrows, winked, then turned and skipped the rest of the way into the house.
“What did she mean, do you think?” Drew scowled, watching the young woman disappear inside. “When she said the women at the agency were right about me?”
“I cannot say. It is quite clear, however. We cannot hire her out.”
“No.Wecannot.” Drew grinned.
And Amelia almost expired on the spot.We. Perhaps this would not be as difficult as she’d anticipated.
“I am glad we are in agreement.” She set her steps away from the garden and down the path that would lead across the fields and to the cliffs that overlooked the ocean.
