Faith removed her cloak and placed it gingerly on one of two high-backed chairs before facing the painting once more.
“Why haven’t you allowed anyone to see it?” she asked, unsure.
But Logan didn’t answer. Faith realized that he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d kept it to himself.
“Logan,” she said, causing him to look at her. “Why have you kept it away from everyone?”
A moment passed between them, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Faith felt her heart pinch.
“When I first saw it, I knew it was you almost instantly,” he said, moving slowly across the room toward it. “I was shocked, to say the least, and tried to rationalize that it must just be a coincidence, with a model who merely happened to look likeyou. I mean, what are the chances that I would come to own such a piece of work?”
“I can’t figure that out either,” Faith said, standing behind the wooden chair. “It seems impossible.”
“It shouldn’t have even happened, honestly,” he said. “I was interested in a pair of paintings by Marchelies. You know him, don’t you? The French artist?”
Faith nodded. “Yes, I’m aware of his work. Weren’tFaustus in the GardenandFaust in his Studyrecently on display in the Salon?”
Logan smirked at her knowledge.
“Yes. I had every intention of acquiring those exact works, but when I mentioned my intentions for those pieces, your aunt actually instructed me to buy something from Donovan.”
Faith’s head snapped around, her wide eyes on him.
“She did?”
“Yes. Was she aware of Donovan and who he was to you?”
That was a loaded question, but Faith answered it anyway.
“No. No one ever knew what Donovan meant to me.”
A heavy silence settled between them. Faith felt like a fool for admitting such a thing to Logan. But then, he had no way of knowing that Faith’s feelings for Donovan, as strong as they had been, had all been one-sided.
“May I ask you something?” he asked, and Faith nodded.
“Yes, of course.”
“Were you in love with him? Donovan, I mean.”
An outrageously personal question, and yet, what they were about to do was perhaps the most intimate thing two people could do. In light of that, maybe it was silly of her to think that anything would be out of bounds. To her surprise, she shook her head.
“I thought I was.”
“What did it feel like?” he asked, and she turned to face him. He shrugged. “I’m curious.”
“What being in love feels like?” she asked, and he nodded. “I don’t think I ever had a good understanding of it,” she admitted.
She looked back at the sheet-covered painting. Would it look like she remembered?
“Can I see it?” she asked suddenly, annoyed with herself for becoming maudlin.
Logan nodded, pulling away the white fabric, revealing a sight that had haunted Faith for two years. Laid out on a bed of pillows, her waist wrapped in yellow velvet, was Faith. Turned at the waist, she stared seductively over her shoulder at the viewer. Faith bit her lip at the sight of her uncovered breast and felt her cheeks warm.
Of course Logan thought she had slept with Donovan. This was a painting of a siren, a woman who had known a man’s touch, and she was, well…She was not this woman.
“The velvet was actually blue,” she said softly. “But he changed it to yellow, at my request.”
“Yellow is a better contrast for the background. It was a good choice,” Logan said. “You are fond of yellow, aren’t you?”
