Chapter 40

What was happening to her? She felt silly and awkward and warm all over. She shook her head slightly to get rid of the strange emotion and tried to steady herself. She heard the grass made a soft, rustling sound as he stepped behind her.

Ashton followed her in silence, watching her back as she moved across the field. His interest for her found an echo on her feelings. The signs were brief yet unmistakable. In split second her pupils dilated, almost smothering the green of her orbs, and she licked her lips, not in a seductive way, rather unconsciously. But as much as she was attracted to him, she was denying her own desire. She maintained her distance from him and wrenched away everytime he was near. It seemed like she had yet to perceive her own feelings.

After a moment, Ava considered that she was still feeling unsound. No way. She couldn't have a crush on him, not a bit, not at all. He was a man whose good looks excited an immature romantic feelings in women. That was the only sensible explanation. Since the first time he caught her eye, she got hooked. It was pure girlish admiration. She never took it seriously, never thinking about it afterward. But in the past she just looked at him from a distance, or met him sometimes in a brief, terrifying encounter. Now that she was alone with him for a long time, his nearness affected her like a fever.

She stopped a few steps away from the door and stood aside, letting him to enter first. When he walked past her, from sideway glance he saw her looking down as though she was afraid to see him. This was getting more and more interesting, he thought as he closed the door after she walked in. She was going to be engagingly awkward. And he was going to deliberately enjoy it.

The intimacy of being alone with him behind closed door suddenly became overwhelming. Somehow the atmosphere grew thicker. She was sensitively aware of his presence, every footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, every rustle of her dress caused by every little movement.

He took another easel and positioned it next to his. She watched as he set down a new canvas on the easel, took another chair and removed the stool in front of the new canvas. Then he took a crystal vase on the mantelpiece and pour water from the jug on the table. She held her breath when he approached her.

"The flowers."

He gestured with his eyes, tickled by amusement at her alerting expression. She put the flowers in the vase, feeling embarrassed by her awkwardness. The stupid feeling meant nothing, she said to herself. It was nothing at all. The uneasiness she was feeling now was a clear evidence. It was breathtaking to look at him from a far, unseen place. It was breathtaking to have a short, intriguing moment with him. But to be close to him, for a long time, it was breathtaking too, as much as uncomfortable. He placed the vase on the chair near the new canvas.

"You can start now."

She sat reluctantly on the stool, taking the paintbrush and the palette he handed to her.

"Begin with the center part first."

When she mixed the color on the palette, he could see her hand trembling faintly.

Ava tried to focus on the flowers in the vase, but she could hardly concentrate. She was intensely aware that he was standing close behind her, watching her every move. She could feel his heat as surely as if he was touching her. This painting lesson was a bad idea. She couldn't believe she was the one who started it.

At first, Ashton thought he would be perversely pleased to be causing her nervousness, but somehow this girl never failed to tickle his conscience. And she didn't even know it. He moved away from her to the table, pretending to have a drink. She watched him leave in relief. She swept the brush on the canvas, making a circle shape. Her hand moved clumsily and unintentionally she dropped the paintbrush on the floor.

"Sorry!" She bent down to take the paintbrush and saw the wooden floor was stained with a smear of yellow ink. She put down the paintbrush on the easel and wiped the dirt with her palm.

"What are you doing? Leave it!"

She heard his voice filled with surprise.

"It's easier to clean up when it has yet to dry..." She rubbed the surface with the heel of her hand, trying to remove some difficult dirt.

"Do you have a cloth..."

She halted midsentence as she felt his hand grasped her arm and strongly pulled her up. Now he was standing very close to her.

"You don't need to do this."

"But I cannot just leave it, who is going to clean it up?"

"I'll send a servant tomorrow."

Send a servant just to clean a little dirt in one spot? That's extremely inefficient.

He released his grasp and walked to the commode, pulling out a drawer to take a small cloth. He dampened it with water from the jug before offering it to her.

"Clean your hand."

Ava took the cloth and cleaned her hand. The sight of the sticky substance on the floor still disturbed her. If somebody stepped on it, the dirt would travel across the path. She bent down again and wiped the greasy residue with the cloth. Evidently the damp cloth was a more effective tool, the dirt vanished easily.

"I've told you to stop, just leave it."

He pulled her up again.

"Let me finish it, I'm almost done."

"For God sake, stop doing it. It doesn't fit you!" He snapped.

"Doesn't fit me?" She echoed his words in confusion.

"It's a servant's job. A lower servant's job, I might add."

"It's just a simple task, I can finish it in a second..."

"Sit down and continue with the painting."

He cut in with an uncompromising tone.

She obeyed immediately, sitting back on the stool and starting to brush again. After a momentary silence, she said quietly.

"You forget that I'm a peasant now."

"You forget that your father is a bloody duke."

"You forget that I am an illegitimate child so it doesn't matter."

She added after a short pause.

"Besides, I'm used to do sort of things now..."

"What? Rubbing the floor?"

"Yes, and worse. I clean up a henhouse too, it's always full of chicken waste."

He frowned at the imaginings.

"That's disgusting. You can't be serious."

"It's true."

"Nonsense. You bring your maid with you."

"And you think I just sit down and do nothing while she does all the work?"

"Of course, that's what a maid is for."

"She's no longer a maid of mine. I cannot afford her salary. In fact, the house that I live in is her property. I have nothing. Practically I'm relying on her kindness."

He absorbed the information for some time.

"You're fortunate to have such a loyal maid."

"I consider her a loyal friend indeed."

"However, are you sure you want to live like this for the rest of your life?"

She glanced at him and said carefully.

"I daresay you never wipe a muck for once in your life."

"Never."

Except for his own body parts, personal belongings and painting tools, he never wiped or rubbed anything, not even his personal desk, let alone the floor. There were always servants to do it. He watched her again. It was hard to imagine she did all the servant's job.

A strand of hair fell on her face, she tucked the hair back behind her ear, her fingertips brushed her cheek lightly.

"You made your face dirty." He commented.

"What?"

He gestured, pointing a spot on his own face to show her.

"There's a little stain on your right cheek."

She put the paintbrush and rubbed her cheek to locate the stain.

"You made it worse, your hand is awfully dirty."

When she looked down on her hand, she just considered her fingers were smeared with inks. She used the back of her hand to wipe the ink stains off.

"Stop, now you're smudging the dirt all over."

Frustrated and embarrassed, she looked around to find the damp cloth. She took it and brought it to her face. Before the material touched her skin, suddenly it was snatched away from her. She looked up and found him towering above her.

"What are you doing? You just wiped the floor with this. How could you ever think to use it on your face?"

"But I need to clean it as soon as possible. It would be more difficult to remove if it had dried up..."

She ceased talking and watched with round eyed surprise as he cupped her cheek and tilted her head so she was looking straight at his eyes now. He brushed the dirt with his thumb while he lifted another hand and rested his fingers on her chin to hold the angle. Her mouth gaped open in bewilderment. She froze in her seat, entirely still.