Chapter 48

He frowned at her reaction. He was rather uncertain what really was going on. Her eyes wandered over his body and rested somewhere along his chest. What was the meaning of it?

"What are you doing?" She asked nervously as he halted just inches away from her.

"Help you to the sofa." he replied shortly as he gripped her upper arm and pulled her up. She rose from the settee, too late to realize her body was shaking like a leaf and suddenly a rain of blinding spark fell on her vision, the room was smothered by darkness.

Her head crushed something sturdy and she felt a strong grip on her other arm. Everything was black for a while and when she began to regain her consciousness again the first thing she recognized was her own breath, short and unsteady, then a scent, a familiar scent of clean male skin and fresh linen, and a subtle smell of oil paint, and that warmth generated from the body holding her still. Next, she was cradled in his arms and carried somewhere and lowered until she was sitting on a plump cushion. She felt his hand on her nape, pushing her head down to her knees.

"We need to bring the blood back into your head."

She heard him saying.

"Feeling any better yet?" he asked after some time.

"I'm not sure..." she replied as she didn't feel any better. Her head was spinning and her body limp.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"No." she murmured, figuring out the cause of her fainting. She hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. Suddenly she was terrified, she was completely defenseless against him in this state. She was completely at his mercy now. She prayed she wouldn't lose the little consciousness she was still having right now. If she passed out completely, she would never know what he did to her while she were unconscious.

"It's not going to work then."

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her up, settling her to the back of the couch, but she had no strength to sit upright, she looked like she was going to collapse anytime he released his hold. He lay her across the sofa and she kept her eyes shut when he lowered her, struggling to control her rapid heartbeat, knowing he was bending down toward her so close. He settled her head on the armrest.

"You need to eat something."

She heard his voice and felt his warm fingers brushed her forehead gently, wiping away the coating dampness there. Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I will send words to my servant. Is it all right if I leave you here for a little while?"

She nodded weakly.

"Good. I'll be but a moment."

He pulled away from her and a moment later, she heard the door opened and shut. He didn't seem to have any intention to seduce her at all. When she looked at him, there was a look in his eyes that she thought was a deep concern, or worry. She felt a bit guilty to have a nasty suspicion of him.

Minutes later, she heard the door opened, she opened her eyes and saw him strolling up near her. He helped her sit upright, holding her upper arm so she wouldn't slump against the back of the sofa. She rested her head on his shoulder. This felt unreal, she had no strength to control her body, barely able to stay upright, this was very scary... She sensed something cool in her lips, running into her mouth and flowing down her throat, and realized he was helping her to drink. The next moment, he brought some cheese to her mouth.

"It's the best I can get for now. Try to eat a little bit, can you?"

She bit a little of it and chewed, still feeling awfully dizzy.

"A bit more, you'll feel better in no time."

She made it to have a few more bites. Slowly, her body started to recover a little, her blurred vision went clear, and she just realized she was resting her head on his shoulder while he was holding her in his arm with one hand, and feeding her the cheese with another. She withdrew abruptly to make a space and he released his grip.

"Feeling better?" he asked. He looked thoroughly concerned, and there was nothing like, well, a gleam of desire in his eyes. Drat, she copied Lady Byrne's curse yesterday. Was Amanda Chapman that irresistibly attractive? She cursed inwardly, at both Amanda Chapman and herself. How come she thought about such a thing at the moment?

Ashton watched her with his observant eye. She was a bit weird today. She looked wary and curious. Now she was staring at him blatantly, without the slightest bit of concealment.

"Are you all right now?"

She startled. "Oh..." She darted her gaze away, looked slightly embarrassed.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good, but it's apparently not enough. Finish it, my servant will come soon with more sufficient food." He handed the cheese to her.

"What? It's really not necessary..."

"If you don't consume enough, you won't be able to get on your feet."

She couldn't deny it, so she obeyed. He got up and headed to sit before the canvas again, continuing his job. She watched him in silence.

"Except for your mother, did you ever paint a woman before?" She asked quietly.

His hand ceased to move, as if the question startled him. Something flickered in his eyes. She guessed it was passing memories. Memories of what, or who? He was silent for a long moment, she thought he would never answer it.

"Yes."

Unexpectedly he answered her question.

"Did you use women for your object quite often?" She asked again.

He glanced at her, and she blushed, realizing how terrible it sounded if somebody interpreted it the wrong way.

"I mean... object of your painting..."

"No."

He didn't let any emotion escape his cool facade, but somehow she knew he was uncomfortable with this topic.

"Why? As I know, women have become painters' great inspiration throughout centuries."

It took time for him to answer the question.

"I always paint an object because it has something that moves me in certain way, I rarely found that thing in women. I did find it in women, but there hasn't been many."

"There hasn't been many of...?"

"Women who inspires me and stimulates my imagination."

And stimulated anything else, she thought.

"How many women have you ever painted until now?"

"Three, including you."

One was his mother, one was her, and another one was... Amanda. The thought was awfully irritating. Amanda Chapman. Why did she believe her? Everybody knew Amanda was a horrible liar. Perhaps everything she said was a total lie. Perhaps the woman he painted was someone else. Unexpectedly, she found that she didn't like it either.

"I haven't seen her picture, the woman you painted before me."

"It's not here." he replied shortly.

He kept it somewhere else. It was probably in his bedchamber, or in his private study where he could sit and stare at it to his heart's content.

"Is she beautiful?"

"Indeed."

She felt a prick of some unpleasant emotion. No, not a prick, a stab precisely. She couldn't really explain it, she just knew she felt an increasingly intense dislike to Amanda.

A soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

"Do come in." he responded.

The door opened with a soft click and a young man with a friendly face appeared in the doorway, apparently his servant. The servant gave a low bow and brought them a basket. Ava felt both awkward and embarrassed, what would the servant think about her? She watched the servant drawing out some food and dining tools from the basket and settling them on the table in front of her. She expected a curious glance, but the young man was utterly professional. He bowed shortly at her and did his job efficiently without stealing a glance at her. Another thought occurred to her. Has the servant been accustomed to this kind of thing? Of women came and went in his master's place?

"Should I wait here or perhaps should I return home, Your Grace?" the servant asked politely.

"Wait here, Freddy. You are to take this lady home within the hour."

"What? No need to do that."

Ashton dismissed the servant before responding her refusal.

"You are not perfectly well. It's not safe for you to go anywhere alone, you could possibly pass out on your way home. Now finish your meal, you're going home right after."

It greatly surprised her. She didn't expect this day to end so soon.

"But, it isn't midday yet."

"You need to rest, and the picture is done actually..."

Actually he didn't need a week to finish it, he didn't even need her actual presence, it was only an excuse.

She fell silent at the knowledge that the picture was done, it was supposed to be today, but how unexpectedly fast everything went this day.

"Can I see it?"

"After you eat."

She glanced down at the sandwiches in the plate placed on the table. The delicious smell of freshly baked bread and the smoked meat quickly aroused her appetite and suddenly she realized that she was very hungry. Had he wasn't there with her, she would have taken it with her hand and devoured the sandwich in two sizable bites like she did at home. But she wouldn't do such a thing before his very eyes. To eat in front of him was already embarrassing. She brought the plate to her lap and started to tear the sandwich using knife and fork.

Watching her from his seat, he was fascinated by every movement of her

dainty hands, the way they held the dining tools, the way it brought the chunks into her mouth. She ate slowly and silently. Everything about her was utterly sweet and feminine. Even her simplest movement enthralled him. He could just stare at her all day and never get bored.

Even when she wasn't looking at him, pretending to be busy with the food, she could feel his silent observation. Despite her craving, she stopped after the first sandwich, setting the knife and fork at the plate.

"You're not consuming enough to recover your strength. Eat more."

"It's enough."