Chapter 37

Day 2

Ashton contemplated the unfinished image on the canvas, the painting of a face he was staring at was such a perilous beauty. She had misguided him out of his path. He had acted in contradictory with his own words. He had been inconsistent with his orders. He said to her that art was nothing important to him, yet now he asked her to be a part of his artistic project. He said to her that he wanted her to stay away from his properties, yet now he tricked her to come over and over again.

Women like her would lead men astray, would lure men into sin. Women like her would bring men to fatal destruction, like a siren tempted the sailors to crash onto the rocks with her sweet singing. But she wasn't a vixen at all, she didn't manipulate him to do something for her advantage. Instead he was the one that trapped her into his wickedness.

A week. What made him go to such length? At first, he just meant to have one last time with her. Yesterday he was caught on a whim in the last moment to extend it a little more. He just couldn't lose her that quickly. He was stoked to see her. Only thinking about it made him excited, waiting for it, anticipating it. It was like he was falling ... into temptation.

He tried to think about Selene to drive all the nonsensical thought away. He had sworn that he would never take a mistress, so he couldn't be more pleased the first time he met Selene. Apart of her superior bloodline and the substantial advantages she would bring to his family, she was any man's dream. She was perfection. She had anything he had always imagined in a woman. But never had Selene made him feel like waking up every morning with a purpose like this, as though the stream of sunlight filled him with vibrant energy. Habitually he always got up early in the morning, determined to do his duties, but he never felt thrilled and high-spirited like this before. What wild magic was it which had possessed him?

Ashton battled an insane idea that suddenly sprang to mind, suggesting a name for this unknown emotion, a word that he never used to describe his feeling to any of a few women he had had romantic encounter with. He always thought that 'the word' was overrated. It made no sense. He barely knew her. It couldn't be anything but a temporary madness, a fleeting obsession. Whatever feeling he had for her right now, it didn't mean to last. He perceived reluctantly that he had somewhat infatuated with her. A meaningless infatuation, strong and intense as much as fickle and short-lived, and soon would be forgotten in the passage of time.

A soft knock on the door broke in. The door clicked open and she appeared in the doorway, looking at him shortly before she turned to close the door. Strange, she couldn't be more beautiful now than the first time he saw her in her glorious entrance at the evening soiree, when each and every one of his noble fellow judged her as a diamond of the first water. But at that time, she didn't move him as she did now, in her plain, dull-colored Cinderwench outfit.

Her witch-black hair was set in a simple loose braid that twisted at the back of her head, a mass of free locks tumbling over her shoulders. Her dress was as simple and plain as most of the village girls, in a somber grey color. She wore no jewelry at all, but plainly she needed no jewel to enhance her loveliness. Her eyes were the most sparkling jewel, they had their own inner light.

She took the box carrying the costume on the commode and stood there, waiting. He left her to change and the day began just like yesterday, but apparently quieter. None of them spoke until he brushed the canvas for some time. Better be this way. The last thing she wanted was to have another drama for today and the days to come. Even though he wanted her as a muse, it didn't change the fact that he detested her. That was why their communication led to an unreasonable clash yesterday. It would be wiser to limit her talking as short and little as possible, no more than necessary. Still, this whole situation unsettled her. She wasn't certain what it was precisely, but she got a feeling that he had something in his mind that she could not foresee.

He seemed absorbed in perfecting some details on the canvas, his eyes focused there and not drifted to her for a long while. She took the chance to contemplate him while he was entirely unaware. When he was in a calm state of mind like this, perfectly relaxed and comfortable in his doing, the taut expression in his face softened, camouflaged the arrogance that so characterized his very existence. When his cold, calculating eyes cast down on the canvas, half hidden underneath the long dark eyelashes, he looked so infuriatingly beautiful, like a fallen angel. Angel of death, she reminded herself. He was cruel, conceited, ill-tempered, volatile... she struggled to find more  unfavorable adjectives to describe his contemptible characteristics. Suddenly he glanced at her, she didn't expect to be caught watching him, she lowered her gaze instantly and felt her cheeks burning. Ridiculously, she felt shy.

Ashton knew she had watched him for some time secretly. When he looked back at her, her eyes darted down and away. It was a clear sign of attraction. He found it interesting. He had sensed that she had something more than just moral duty to keep coming back to him, despite her reluctance to be near him. What was he going to do with her?

"Are you tired?" He asked.

"No." She was still looking down to avoid meeting his eyes.

She was curiously quiet today, and despite her calm expression he could sense that she was cautious. There was a slight hint of trepidation she tried to conceal. She sat with her shoulders tensed and her whole body rigid. What was she possibly afraid of?

"Would you prefer to take a break?"

"No, thanks."

"I think we will."

He sprang from his seat and walked toward a large wooden table in the middle of the room in fast, long strides. On the table were a bottle of white wine and some crystal glasses, and her reticule at the edge.

"Come here."

She rose instantly and followed him before she knew it. A moment later, she recognized with a slight annoyance how easy for him to command and how easy for her to obey him. He possessed such authority that made her feel like she was obliged to take his order, to answer to his call immediately. He just had that air about him, a man who had the world at his feet. She imagined he never had to answer to anyone.

He poured the pale sparkling liquid into two crystal glasses and pushed a glass toward her across the table. This was going to be terribly awkward, to have a drink with him, a man she barely knew, a man who disliked her. She glanced at the chair next to her and wondered if she was going to sit there. He was still standing there, started to sip the wine slowly. Suddenly she felt like she wanted to fly back to the armless settee and sat still until the clock struck twelve. She'd rather be thirsty for the next few hours, no, the next twenty four hours, than sitting across from him and drinking some wine with him like they were bosom friends. What did she suppose to do while doing so? Bring on a polite conversation? She didn't think they could talk to each other normally.

"What are you waiting for? Drink."

Her hand shaking a bit in a sudden nervousness and she caught the glass hastily, unintentionally knocking the reticule to the floor. Everything inside it scattered about her feet and she gasped. She bent down quickly, hoping that he hadn't seen ...

"Jesus Christ! What is that??!!"

She looked up at him instantly and met his astounded expression. His widened eyes nailed the pistol on the floor, half covered by her hand. She looked down at the pistol again as though she wanted to confirm what he had seen. For a moment, they both just stared at the beautiful weapon. She tilted her head up again when she heard his voice.

"If you, by any chance, think that I mean to do anything untoward..."

He stared at her in extreme disbelief, his face looked almost comical in his shock.

"No, no, no! It's not! I know you're not that kind of man!"

"Then give me one good reason..." His eyes never strayed from the gun, watching her every little move in alert.

"Why do you come to my place with a concealed weapon?"