Chapter 39

Every voice in the back of his mind warned him in extreme urgency to stop whatever game he played. That he would be the one who failed the test instead of her. Again he chose to ignore it.

"I'm sure you will have no difficulty in finding a man who would be willing to provide you safety and security in return for your companionship."

Most women would know what suggestion behind this statement, and if she was the same sort of women with her mother, she would undoubtedly know how to respond.

Ava looked back at him warily. It surprised her that he had said such a thing to her. Could it be possible that he had an implicit purpose in his statement? Could it be a covert invitation? But she couldn't tell exactly because his statement was also innocuous enough to be considered so. Perhaps he just said it idly, with no particular purpose or reason. After a moment's consideration, she decided she didn't need to know his true intention. She already knew her answer.

"I'll never choose that path, under any circumstances."

"Even if it's the only way to survive?"

He replied with a raised brow.

A high-born man like him would never understand what it was like to be a bastard, especially for women.

"Even if my life depends on it. I don't want to pass my ill-repute to my future children."

She was utterly resolute in her statement.

"You'll never know how it feels to be an illegitimate child like me. To be loathed and despised by public for something you cannot help, you cannot control, for something you never choose to be. To be considered low, unworthy and undeserving of a proper life, to bear the consequences of your parents' misdeed. I will never let any child I might be blessed with to suffer the same fate. I will never let it happen."

She paused a second, and fixed him with an unswerving final line.

"It's more important than my own happiness or safety, even my own life."

It pricked his conscience instantly. She had answered him in the most explicit way possible, leaving no room for confusion or doubt. Such an irony, it was her who should be morally corrupt instead of him. He should be ashamed of each and every filthy notion he had for her.

He came to a new comprehension. She deserved his utmost respect. It should extinguish his desire for her entirely, knowing there was no chance. Unfortunately, it just dreadfully inflamed whatever feelings he had for her.

Day 3

As she watched him secretly while sitting on the settee, the suspicion that plagued her yesterday had completely diminished. At first, she wondered if he had any malicious intention to her, but he didn't make the slightest advance to her afterward. Not a bit, not at all. After thinking about it again, she realized that the idea was ludicrous.

He never leered at her like some men often did. He didn't try to come close to her or touch her, not at all. He never showed any sign of admiration. Most men tended to be gentle toward her, they spoke softly to her, they helped her immediately when she was in need, they gave what she asked for quite easily, but seemingly, this one was an exception. She thought his interest to her was purely for the purpose of the art project. She wondered what kind of woman could allure him. He looked cold and detached, heartless. Except for anger, she couldn't imagine another emotion would ever move him. She doubted he ever had experienced another emotion.

Suddenly, he raised his gaze from the canvas. She made it just in time to pretend to look at the mantelpiece behind him.

"The elf's face is half-finished now, though I still have to work on some details. Do you want to take a look?" He asked.

For a moment, she remained still. Though she preferred to stay in a proper distance from him, it would be impolite to deny his invitation. She rose up and walked toward him reluctantly, feeling some curious alertness that always assailed her everytime she was being too close to him. She stopped, turning to stand next to him and looked at the painting. In a second, she was captivated by the beauty.

"I can't believe it is me..." She stared at the image in fascination.

"You don't like it?" He watched her with a sidelong glance.

"No... It's just..... It's very beautiful, it's not like me. No, don't get it wrong, the detail is perfectly accurate, I mean, it's many times more amazing. I look... otherworldly here..." Her eyes lingered on the canvas, sparkling with pure admiration.

Otherworldly, it was a perfect word to define her beauty. Actually, he felt he could never be good enough to capture perfectly the beauty she possessed. In fact, for him the image depicted in the canvas was many times more amazing in real.

"It's brilliant. You're very talented."

Despite the boost of his pride, he replied nonchalantly.

"Many people can paint as well. You just haven't seen enough."

She lingered her gaze on the canvas again.

"I visited some art galleries when in London and yes, there are many who can paint, but only a little who can make a painting like yours. It's like they have souls and mysteries, it's more than just shapes and colors in light and shades, there are depths, there are something underlying beneath..."

Just like him, there was something about him that provokingly intriguing.

"I wonder what it feels like to have such a gift." She said rather musingly.

"What gift?"

"To have the talent, the ability to make something beautiful, like a song, a poem, or a painting like this. Something that can touch the soul of the beholder, and make them feel beauty... I wish I could, unfortunately, I don't have any artistic talent."

"There must be something you're good at."

She shook her head, smiling at the thought.

"My music skill is pathetic. I can't even read the simplest musical notation. My drawing skill are just a little better. My father changed my tutors dozens of times, yet no significant progress was ever made."

"Many girls are not interested in other than dresses and fancy things. What makes you care about creating a song or a painting?"

"I really appreciate the beauty comes from all sorts of art. A good artwork can be very moving, like a beautiful song or a poem or a painting. It makes me feel like... going through an emotional experience, it evokes a deep feeling inside, I feel very much in awe. It fills me with wonder and amazement."

She was still absorbed in contemplating the beautiful painting, completely absentminded that she was speaking to him profoundly.

"Are you interested to learn how to paint?"

"Of course, perhaps someday I will have a chance."

"I think I can teach you some basic steps."

"No!" She replied quickly with widened eyes, astounded with the unexpected suggestion.

"I mean... I don't want to bother you..."

She corrected in a less offensive tone.

"Not at all." He left the stool and walked past her toward the door. Ava watched him in consternation as he pushed the door and went outside.

"Where are you going?"

"Find an object for you."

She stood and came after him in confusion. It wasn't something that she expected. She didn't want it, but she didn't know what to do. As she watched him walking with a firm step in front of her, a realization came upon her. When he said something, it was hardly a suggestion, it was a command.

She followed him to the meadow near the lake, where purple prairie clover jutting out of the knee-high yellow grasses. He surveyed the area thoroughly as he walked to the midst of the field. A rich variety of fall wildflowers spread over the land. He bent down and picked some wild blue aster.

"They will be perfect for a beginner."

He passed the wildflowers to her and she took them. She never saw wild asters in that color before. In her hometown, they were mostly in white and yellow.

"So beautiful, I've never seen this shades of blue." She looked at the flowers in awe.

"What's your favorite color?" He asked.

"Blue, definitely." She ran a fingertip along a delicate petal, and he couldn't help recalling her doing the same thing to his hand not so long ago.

"Which blue do you like best?"

She looked up at him while thinking of the answer, and unintentionally held captive by his eyes. She tried to think of a dozen shades of blue. There were many, so many, many lovely blues, but none of them could be compared to the blue she was staring into right now.

"I think ..."

I think it's the blue of your eyes.

The thought just flew out of her mind. It struck her by surprise. Was she going insane? How could she ever think like that? She stepped back abruptly and looked down to the flowers in her hand.

"I think these flowers have the most beautiful blue color."

He tried to guess what she was thinking about. Although she plainly admired the blue of the flowers, her answer didn't feel right.

"Then you just found your favorite blue at the moment."

"Yes." She turned and walked away, suddenly couldn't meet his eyes.

"No, it was the sky. But it turns out I like this color more."