She snorted. “Are you calling women cows?”
He blinked. “Dear God, no. That was not my intent.”
“Good.” She laughed. “I’m glad I scared you for a moment. Turn about is fair play.”
“I’ll make the tea then.” He seemed eager to move away from the current topic of conversation.
Amused, Adalyn looked around once more, this time noticing one or two small paintings. While Trick juggled hot water, tea and teapot, she rose and crossed the room to look at them.
They were, to her inexperienced eyes, quite wonderful. Two landscapes, the same place at different times of the year. One was rich with the yellow-greens and blue skies of spring, the other shone with the reds and golds of autumn, against a background of a purpling sky streaked with red-gold clouds.
“Oh Trick. These are lovely. Who painted them?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.
“I did,” he replied quietly.
“You? You did these? Trick, they are amazing. You have a gift…” She looked back toward them. “Watercolours, I believe…”
“Yes. I find them more comfortable for landscapes.”
“Do you work in anything else?”
“I do…” He nodded to one side of the bed, and she noticed what looked like canvases stacked up against the wall behind it.
“May I?”
He paused, then nodded. “Yes.”
Rounding the bed, she sucked in a breath of air. The first one, standing in front of the others, washer.
She sat, dropping onto the side of the bed like a stone, stunned at how he had portrayed her. A charcoal study, he’d caught her in what looked like mid-laugh, her mouth curving, her eyes looking to one side, her head turned and tilted a little as if she was answering someone.
Her shoulders were bare, and the lines faded away at her décolletage…
“Trick…” she whispered. “Is thisme?”
“It is,” he answered, walking around the bed and sitting beside her. “Once seen, Adalyn, a man can’t forget you or whisk you out of his mind.”
She shook her head, eyes fixed on the portrait. “I had no idea.”
“Of what?”
“That I looked—likethis…”
“You are beautiful in a unique way,” he said, reaching over and running his finger down the canvas, tracing her neck and shoulder.
She shivered, as if she could feel the touch even though it was not her real self.
“Your features come alive when you talk of your interests, your wants, your desires…” his voice trailed off.
“Surely not—this cannot be.” She shifted a little, tilting her head to one side. “This woman looks—confident, aware, part of something.” Adalyn frowned. “I can’t describe it.”
“You are all those things. Did you not realise it?”
She turned to him then, realising he was closer than she’d expected and their faces were a whisper apart. “No, Trick, I never imagined this was how you saw me.” Her eyes were drawn to his lips, full and warm, they were so near.
Without conscious thought, she licked her own and caught his indrawn breath.
“Adalyn,” he whispered. “I cannot help myself…”
