Again, questions arose. What business? Was that code for bedding one or several of the other willing women in the club? Despite her curiosity Ophelia only nodded, telling herself that she should not and did not care what he meant.
Once the door closed again, Ophelia went about opening her case. As she did before, she set about putting her new canvas in an even sightline, and began her work. With the freedom that came with not being watching, Ophelia relaxed, and let her talent inspiration flow through her.
This time even she recognized that she was creating more than anatomical replicas of the posed women before her. As she painted, she brought in the shadows and lights along their bodies. She darkened the red of the silk brocade bedding, added shimmers to the highly shined wooden bedposts. Tristan was right. Compared to this painting, her first paintingwasbad.
Ophelia was so lost in her work that she did not hear the door open and close, or the footsteps that drew toward her. It wasn’t until she felt Tristan’s fingertips draw up her spine and to the back of her neck that she realized he’d returned. His soft touch sent sparks through her body, the heat of the palms of his hands seeped through the layers of her disguise. It made her tremble, and sent her brush dashing a mistake across the canvas.
She silently cursed, caught between the pleasure of his touch and the annoyance that such had caused her to make a mistake- even if it was a small one. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, cooling her temper.
Never matter. The mistake is small. I can fix it.
Ignoring the pleasure that radiated from Tristan’s touch at the back of her neck, Ophelia cleaned the shimmering gold paint from her brush. She then moved to dab it into the deep red that would that disguise the mistake- and then Tristan’s other hand closed over hers.
“Leave it,” he murmured, so close to her ear that she could feel his breath, “I like it. It adds something.”
Ophelia cleared her throat, readying herself to speak.
“Well then, I am finished.” she said in as low of a voice as she could go.
To her surprise, Tristan let out a throaty chuckle. She glanced back at him with a glare, sure that it wasn’t her words that amused him but the tone she’d spoken them with.
Grinning now, Tristan took a step back and slowly clapped his hands.
“Better,” he praised, “Much better.”
“May we see?” The raven-haired woman asked.
“Later, darlings,” he said kindly, “For now I must speak to our artist alone. Move along. We will see you out there.”
The surprisingly obedient women stretched as they did before after their posing, only this time they did not come to peek at Ophelia’s work. Tristan waited until they were gone and the door was closed before he reached out and pulled off Ophelia’s mask.
“Ah,” he said with a grin, “I thought I would find a glare under there.”
“You were correct,” she said icily. “You know it is very difficult for me to follow your rules when you goad me by laughing atme. You know I have to speak like that. I have to protect my identity.”
To her surprise, Tristan put a hand to his heart and gave her a slight bow.
“You are right, that was in poor taste,” he agreed. “I will try to refrain from now on.”
Ophelia shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with Tristan actually agreeing with her.
“You actually like this?” She asked, changing the subject. “You’re not being delicate with my feelings?”
Tristan snickered and rolled his eyes.
“When have I ever been delicate with your particular feelings, Ophelia?”
Ophelia gave him an exasperated look, but she knew it was true. With Theo’s feelings? Of course. Even their other friends. But her feelings? Never. Not that she’d ever given him a reason to.
“Come,” he said, tossing her mask back to her, “Get that back on, and we will go on our tour. The night is still young so there is plenty to see.”
Ophelia pulled her mask back on, but hesitated to move toward the door.
“Do you normally give tours to new members personally?” She asked .
Tristan cocked his head slightly, and blast him if it didn’t make him look more appealing.
“No. Why do you ask?”
