Chapter 34

He must be insane, he was totally out of his mind. The brazen request should never be made, but the moment it was said, he felt greatly relieved he had done it before his senses came back and ruled him. Such a sweet tempting torture she was, he just wanted to endure it a little longer.

She stood perfectly still, but couldn't bring herself to answer. Suddenly he was crazed by fear that she would reject his request. A second of wait felt like an hour of torture. When the pressure peaked to its extreme culmination, he uttered the question in measured composure.

"Do you accept my term?"

He detected a slight gleam in her eyes, like suspicion or hesitation. She stared at him in a state that seemed as if she was on the alert.

"In one condition." She answered the question with a cautious reply.

"I accept as long as I am not to be painted nude."

"God, no!!"

He chuckled, couldn't help a grin escaped his face.

"You're crazy. Where the devil did you get that insane idea?"

And his smile stole her breath. She never saw him smiling nor laughing before. He was always beautiful in any state but when he smiled he was... dazzling. His eyes sparkling with a hint of laughter. Oh, he had the most mesmerizing blue eyes. And she just loved the way his long eyelashes cast shadow on his cheeks, how it made his cold eyes tinged with wistfulness, with a hint of melancholy. Also he had dimples on both cheeks when he smiled, they looked terribly good on him.

Just a second and his smile faded but the last vestiges of it lingered, made his face glowing. When he cast his eyes on her again, they shone with amusement and a faint smile touched his lips. He never looked at her like this before. His gaze were always laced with hatred and disgust. But with just one look, a look like this, he could redeem a thousand times his contemptuous glare.

What's in her pretty head, how did it ever occur to her that he possibly wanted to paint her nude? He couldn't help chuckling the second he heard it, and the way she looked at him while saying it. The serious, overly cautious expression. He was greatly amused. It had been a long while since the last time something had tickled his funny bone. He couldn't remember it. And the idea of painting her nude was ... interesting. He would be very pleased to do it. And also painting her in that damp, transparent chemise.

"So, I gather your silence indicates your acceptance?"

"And as long as no indecent exposure required." She added quickly.

"I promise there will be nothing indecent at any rate."

Foolish, but this little bargain delighted him. He was completely unconscious that he was smiling at her now, something that was unthinkable in the past. She was definitely not a fool, she was complete with regard to every detail before accepting a term.

Ava struggled to keep a clear mind. It was hard to think when she was presented with that mind blowing smile.

"All right."

She said after a moment's consideration.

"I accept your term."

The relief and excitement he felt had never been greater or stronger, but he remained deceptively calm as he walked past her toward the studio.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow here at this hour."

She had spent hours of thinking, but she still couldn't figure out what was behind this unexpected turn of events. She couldn't believe he asked for something like that to her. So far as she knew, he couldn't tolerate a minute of her presence around him. Now suddenly he asked her to be his muse, he wanted to paint her. How curious... What turned his hatred toward her into an artistic interest in a span of their short little encounter?

In some senses, she didn't believe he just wanted to paint her. What was he possibly up to? A sudden thought came upon her. Was it a scheme against her? Did he have some bad intentions to her?

The unpleasant thought made her feel uncomfortable. The longer she thought about it, the more restless she got. It made no sense. If he wanted to get rid of her from his land, he could simply send her father and Roger to take her away.

She just noticed that she had walked absentmindedly all the way here. Before her stood the elegant county cottage. A black stallion settled nearby caught her eye, and she knew that he was positively there, inside the studio. She strolled towards the front door.

With every step she made, the uneasy feeling grew stronger. Her heart beating faster when she reached the front door. She stared down at the door handle in growing anxiety. Something held her from pushing the door open. Like her fate was sealed the very moment she stepped through the door, like she could never escape the destiny awaiting her inside if she dared to enter it. Suddenly she felt an urge to turn back and run away. She could do it in a second. If she never came, he wouldn't come to find her anyway.

"Come in."

His voice came from beyond the door. Too late, he already knew she was here. She pushed down the door handle and found him standing across the room before the fireplace. He was watching the flames as they flickered and cracked, burning the dried woods. The fireplace had been lit up perfectly well and the room was filled with a gentle heat. Some curtains had been thrusted aside, allowing some natural light to stream through the window. The studio was surrounded by a warm comfortable ambience. She had no choice but to walk toward him. At first she felt like she was a prey coming to its predator, but when he turned to her, her fear diminished gradually.

He looked calm and collected. He stood still in his sleek elegance, perfectly civilized and dignified. He would not do anything untoward. Perhaps she was just too overwhelmed by an unreasonable dread.

She halted two feet away from him.

"Shall we start?"

"Sure." He took a box on the mantelpiece and handed it to her.

"Here, you need to change your clothes."

"What is this?" Ava opened the box and found a long white dress made of silk and a strip of knitted material, looked like it was a sort of waistband. To her relief, the dress was loose and entirely proper.

"What do I represent in this outfit?"

"A meadow elf." He replied as he returned her glance shortly.

Then he made his way out to allow her some privacy. She changed her clothes quickly and stood before the fireplace, waiting for him. She felt uneasy about this situation. To spend a long hours with him in private was unimaginable.

She did feel a momentary foolish, girlish excitement two days ago when he showed some reactions to her. She did think he was the most handsome man with the most dazzling smile. After he accidentally rescued her and got terribly injured, she did feel a strong tender feeling for him and feel indebted to him. Guilt and regret drove her to do crazy things for him. When she knew that he might possibly lose his hand, she did feel a strong empathy for him.

But he was definitely not a man she wanted to stay close to for a long time, especially with no one else between. He was cruel, conceited, ill-tempered, judgmental, and domineering. He was capable of verbal abuse and perhaps physical abuse as well, though she wasn't certain about it. She had a deep sympathy for his miserable upbringing, but she knew it had caused him a permanent damage that was impossible to fix. Of course, she wouldn't say he was all bad. He was honor-bound, he was dignified, he was a true gentleman to see to her safety, but he was nothing gentle and undoubtedly he was a difficult person.

When she said she would do anything to redeem herself, she meant anything but not this one.

She glanced at the long case clock standing in the corner. It was eight past ten. She just wanted to get this over as soon as possible. She stared into the fireplace, watching flames curling and swaying. A few moments had passed but there was no sign he was coming in.

Apparently he gave her more time than she needed. Should she go and tell him she was ready? She was thinking to do so when a sketchbook laid on the commode caught her attention. It was another sketchbook, not the one she had saved from the lake two days ago.

A curious feeling tickled her senses. She glanced at the closed door before took the book and opened it. Soon she was fascinated by a series of magnificent drawing. She flipped quickly through the sheets in awe, until a sketch caught her still.

Suddenly she forgot to breathe. On the sheet staring back at her was her eyes. The face beautifully drawn in an impressive accuracy on the paper was hers. He had made a drawing of her before. Clearly he made this sketch only based on his memory, but how could it be remarkably detailed? He must spend a considerable time observing her face and imprinting it to his mind. Or was he simply a brainsick genius? She found a date written at the outer corner of the paper. It was made two days ago...

"Who gave you permission to touch my personal belonging?"

A sudden snarl startled her and she turned back. Before she could even think of anything, the sketchbook was snatched from her with a strong jerk. She stared back round-eyed at him, his face went white with fury.