Sitting on a stool with his sketchbook folded open and settled in landscape position on the easel, Ashton listened to the light gentle wind breezing over the lake before his studio. He scribbled a few lines on the fine paper. He frowned when a sharp pain stung abruptly in the place he got severely injured. He dropped the pencil and looked down on his bandaged hand. He shouldn't force himself this instant. He had just been injured yesterday, and his wound was terrible. He should wait, at least until his hand recovered a bit.
He stared at the incomplete preliminaries on the sheet, took the pencil and started again. He knew he should wait, but he really needed to know, would he still be able to draw again as he was before. The thought of losing his drawing hand was dreadful. His wounded flesh was swollen and aching now, perhaps it had got infected. The doctor had given him the best treatment he could give along with some medicine. He could only hope that it would work for the best. He knew a man who lost his hand just because he accidentally hurt himself with some nails. The poor man's hand was amputated because the infection had spread pervasively.
A spasm of pain interrupted, so piercing his hand flinched and his pencil dropped to the ground.
Peering through from behind the bushes, Ava startled to see how bad his pain was. A surge of guilt and ache engulfed her, made her breathing hard. She was such an empty headed fool. If she didn't do the stupid thing last night, such a thing would not happen to him.
Somebody was watching him from a distance. He could feel it in an instant. He could always sensed her presence from the first time, as if something in her was calling out his name in silence. Last night he breathed in her subtle floral scent and it lingered long past they parted. This morning when it supposed to be gone, the faint smell still filled his nostrils. He expelled a breath in irritation.
"I know you are there."
He said without tearing away his gaze from the paper.
"Get out."
Ava choked and stepped back in shock. How come did he know she was here? She swore she didn't make a sound, and he didn't even see her. She glanced around quickly, considering to run away as fast as possible. She was safely hidden from his sight in the bushes. She could pretend she was never here.
"Get out this instant. Or should I come upon you?"
When his voice sounded cold and flat like this, it was the time he was most dangerous. She took a deep breath before stepping out of the bushes.
He turned around on the stool to face her and crossed his arms, looking hostile.
Her heart stopped instantly, but not out of fear. He looked awfully handsome under the afternoon light, without his coat and other formal attributes. He had a lean figure, his waist was slim and his legs were so remarkably long. And the way he sat there, stretching one of his long legs out nonchalantly as he crossed his arms. Such a ..... what did Polly call him? Oh, proud blueblood. But she had never seen a man with an effortless grace and confidence that matched this one.
"Didn't I tell you to stay away from my property?"
His question interrupted her sight-savoring.
"I... I'm coming here because..."
She tried to think of an appropriate reply.
"I haven't thanked you last night ..."
Yes, that would make a sensible reason.
"Thank you, Your Grace. For saving my life."
"Well, now you have." Came his tart reply.
"If there is nothing else, you may leave at once."
"There's another thing I need to say..."
She got surprised at her own immediate response. He already dismissed her, why did she insist to stay?
"Go ahead and be quick about it. As soon as you finish, I want to have my privacy."
She stayed silent for a while, struggling to find a word. One of his brow raised deliberately in obvious impatience.
"I'm sorry... It was my fault your hand got terribly injured. I'm really sorry... I would never forgive myself if you were not able to draw again. I would have made you lose something very important to you, something that really matters..."
Suddenly he stood and strode quickly toward her. Ava felt a rush of fear and stepped back before he got near. She had unintentionally provoked him again. She exhaled in relief when he stopped a feet away before her.
"It's nothing of importance."
He uttered the words under his breath, looking greatly irritated.
"I'm a nobleman, not an artist. I did it simply because I was bored. It was just another way of killing time."
His beautiful eyes gleamed with a flash of rage. They had her spellbound, she couldn't turn away from his eyes when she replied
"That's not true..."
"That's the truth!"
He snapped, made her gasped and stepped back.
"That doesn't matter to me. Not even a bit. Not at all."
She could see his breathing quickened, seemed like he was on the verge of losing his temper. Suddenly he turned away from her and walked toward the easel.
Ashton stepped away at once as he felt he was going to lose control. How could this woman say such things to him? Nobody had ever interfered with his passion before, and he had never shared it with anyone. Nobody cared about it. How could she... understand exactly what he was feeling now? How could she know how much it meant for him?
He took his sketchbook from the easel. When he turned to leave, from the corner of his eye, he saw her approaching him. She halted a short distance away from him.
"Your Grace, I believe your hand will recover completely and you will be able to draw exceedingly well just like before."
He turned to her abruptly and she nearly jumped at his terrifying expression.
"This, is just a sort of entertainment for me. Nothing more. Would I be able to draw again or not, it doesn't matter to me. I don't give a bloody damn!"
And unexpectedly he flung the sketchbook away into the lake.
"No!" She couldn't help a cry. She was staggered as the sketchbook made a splash on the lake surface and drowned entirely into the water.
She turned and stared at him as if she was looking at a ghost. Her dramatic expression was almost amusing him. He challenged her surprised gaze with a murderous glare, intended to scare her away.
He meant to intimidate her with his furious manner, yet he was the first to look away. Her eyes, they made him feel weak and turned his breathing into panting. How could she have this unnerving effect on him? In all the world, no one could ever make him feel unsettled.
He turned to escape, noticing in irritation that his chest moving in unsteady breath. He strode away without a word. Ava watched his back in utter disbelief until he was completely gone, disappeared from her sight. She turned her gaze to the lake again, feeling regretful for the book. She didn't believe what had just happened.
She stood there for a long while like she couldn't let go whatever had lost. She didn't understand him for denying something that really mattered to him, and she didn't understand herself either for mourning the loss as if it was her own treasured possession.
*****
Long past midnight, after hours of availing attempt to get some sleep, Ashton rolled out of bed. He lit some candles and took a sketchbook and pencil, sitting behind the desk, not bothering to wear a shirt or a robe.
He felt an exciting feeling the moment he stroked the initial lines, the mesmerizing attraction that bound him to the sheet everytime he started a new sketch. Pain throbbed occasionally but he ignored it. He would not stop until he had done.
He drowned into his only catharsis, completely oblivious to the passage of time. When his hand finally stopped, the sky outside had turned into deep blue. He dropped his pencil to the desk and lifted the sketchbook. His eyes long settled on the image he had just created. It was merely a face.
Her face.
He had stopped denying it. He had accepted that in a strange way, she drove him mad in an irresistible artistic urge. She had become a creative stimulus for him. He wouldn't call her his muse, God no.
That was why he was feeling uneasy when she was around. Because he denied his own artistic drive. It was something he had never done before. Everytime a person or an object moved him and he felt an immediate urge to sketch, he always indulged in it. It would leave him restless if he didn't.
He shouldn't deny his desire to sketch her. She was simply an object that arouse his creative instinct, like a tree, a bird, or a beautiful scenery. Now that he had satisfied the needs, it would set him free. It would purge him of the images of her.
He rose from his seat and get dressed. Today he would allow himself a solitude in his sanctuary, which he should have done yesterday, if she didn't come and disturbed him. But today he would not let anything came between him and his canvas.
*****
She can do it. She did it before. Many times.
Ava stood before the lake as the sky turned into a lighter shade of blue. The first ray of sunlight had appeared in the horizon and the morning would come in no time. She only had to wait another minute, then she would jump into the water, go to the bottom of the lake and get the sketchbook. His sketchbook.
Doubt crashed her once again, not out of fear, but of the reason behind this insane act. Tonight when the idea crossed her mind, it had grown stronger and stronger, it consumed her the entire night. She couldn't have an hour of sleep.
She had used to do it since she was nine or ten. Delilah always threw her things into the lake nearby everytime she made her sister upset. Her diary, a carousel miniature from father, her doll, her music box, everything. And she always took it back. She was remarkably good at swimming. She could do it without any difficulty, but why? Why did she want to do this to get back something not of her belonging? It made no sense.
She was certain it was part of something really important for him. Somehow she knew, it was painful for him to deny it. But why did she care?
She convinced herself over and over again that it was guilt, it was remorse, it was moral duty, it was the way she paid for whatever she owed him, yet she was still uncertain. She was only certain that she was going to do it anyway.
She pushed away all the riot of thoughts and began to undress herself. Nobody would cross paths with her in this ungodly hour. Nobody would pass the street. To dive into the lake with all the layers in her dress would be inefficient and it would considerably slow down her move. She needed to do it fast, before anyone came upon her.
What the devil is she doing there in this ungodly hour??!
Watching her from an upper hill a distance away from his studio, Ashton staggered on his horseback. He halted the horse rightaway, peering down at the woman standing before the lake.
After the sudden death of his parents in one night, there was only little which could have him shocked. But what he was witnessing the next second knocked the breath out of him.
She was stripping off her clothes, piece to piece, until she was almost naked in her thin chemise.
Hell, he would send her away out of his land at once. What did she think she was doing? Bathing in the lake right before his property?
He jerked the bridle harshly and raced his horse in rapid speed, determined to catch her and give her the punishment she deserved. She jumped into the lake and he moved faster.
She disappeared into the water and didn't emerge after a while. As he reached the place to settle his horse, he dismounted quickly and ran toward the lake. By the edge of the water, he saw the heap of her clothes lying on the ground with her shoes and her reticule. This woman was totally insane.
He moved his gaze to the lake again. A ripple appeared on the surface. There was no sign she was going to emerge. Apparently it wasn't a common bath. An unexpected idea occurred to him. Could it be possible she was seeking for ...? Impossible. He exorcised the thought cruelly.
He waited until three minutes passing by, getting restless with every second. He had never anticipated something this intensely in his life. Each minute felt like an hour. A dreadful thought struck him. Possibly her life was in danger. He cursed in silence as he discarded his coat and threw it to the ground.
One thing for sure, she would pay for this. She would be banished and banned forever not only from this town, but from all his territory. It was the last thought he had in mind before he jumped into the water.
After a long search in the deep, cold water, Ava finally found what she sought for. The lake was deeper than one she used to swim in Roseville, so it wasn't as easy as she assumed. The water was clear under the bright sunlight but as she went deeper, it got darker. It took a little while before her eyes adapted well with the low light. She was glad she had the stamina. She could stay six to seven minutes under the water.
She felt relief as the dark cover of the book caught her eye. The water was biting cold. She would freeze if she stayed here any longer. She took the book and held it tight, she was just about to swim up when something came around her waist and pulled her up.
Panic struck her instantly. She had been caught by some water creature! An image of a giant octopus flashed in her frantic mind. She struggled, moving helplessly to fight whatever captured her, but it was too strong. She pushed the tentacle encircling her belly with one hand, while the other hand kept the book with her. Instantly she found that what held her was not a slimy, squishy tentacle, but a strong hand. A human hand. She turned to see the person who had caught her. The bright sunlight streaming through the water pierced her eyes as they got near to the surface, she could barely see anything.
Suddenly she was dragged out of the water with a great splash. She gasped for air, a little spasm of coughing followed afterward. She blinked away the water from her eyes and looked straight to her captor. She couldn't be more surprised if it was a giant octopus.
Though the eyes glaring at her was bone-chilling, she was sure the blood in his veins was boiling hot. If it was possible, he must have been breathing fire. Though he had never been other than hostile to her, he had never looked as furious as he was right now.
He glowered at her without a word, then suddenly he grabbed her arm tight and pulled her behind him as he moved to the edge of the lake. As soon as their feet met the ground under the water, she struggled to match his pace, realizing in horror what was about to come. It was the calm before the storm.
When they set foot on the soil again, suddenly she became aware that she was only wearing her chemise. She looked down instantly, to her horror, the soaking fabric had clung tight to her body like a second skin, it also had become transparent. Every shape and curve, even the little crook of her navel was molded to the wet material. Everything she had could be seen perfectly through the thin transparent layer. The fabric had a little use now for everything beneath it was plainly exposed.
He halted and released her arm. He turned to her and she covered the front of her body with the book immediately. She was glad for the size of the book, for it covered her breasts perfectly. Still, she was more than half naked, and she couldn't cover the apex of her thighs. She considered to cover it with one hand, but it would seem terribly awkward, and would only attract his attention there. She prayed he wouldn't look lower.
She looked upon him nervously, his furious
glare was on her face.
"What in heaven's name were you doing in the bottom of the lake?!" His irritated voice thundering in her ears.
Then his gaze brushed over her all the way down and she held her breath. Her face turned scarlet and she wanted to sank deep into the ground. She held the book tighter to her breasts.
Damn. This certainly will arouse anything other than creative instinct. Ashton shifted his gaze back on her burning face. Bloody hell, he never knew a woman could look more tempting than when she was wearing nothing at all.
She was a naive but she could tell by instinct that he was distracted. She could see the anger in his eyes transformed into something else even if it was only for a brief moment. She could sense his breathing quickened. She lowered her gaze to his throat and saw the muscles there flowing. She cursed herself for being a wanton but suddenly she felt a triumphant joy bursting inside her. Thus far, he was the only man who didn't show the least of appreciation to her attraction.
He breathed deeply, she could see he was trying to get himself together.
"I demand an answer this second,"
His voice was cold and tart as usual, but for a second she detected a tinge of short, faint tremor. Or was it just her imagination?
"What were you doing in the bottom of the lake??"
"I... I... ..." She stammered, she couldn't think of an answer.
His gaze moved to the sketchbook she held. Instinctively she held it tighter.
"You went to the bottom of the lake to get that?"
Her silence indicated yes. The evidence was in her hands.
If a moment ago he felt stirring in his loin, now he felt stirring in his heart. Something warm and aching at the same time. He suppressed the feeling mercilessly and focused his gaze on hers again.
"Are you totally out of your mind?! You almost drowned yourself to death. It was only by chance I was here in time to save you!"
"You didn't save me... I was totally fine. I was just about to..." She halted midsentence at his expression. She would vex him if she told the truth. He had already jumped into the lake to save her and she really appreciated that. She didn't want to humiliate him by saying his rescue was unnecessary.
"... I was in need of air, I... miscalculated the time I needed, I was in great danger when you came in time to save me..."
Ashton knew instantly that she switched her answer in the last second. And he knew why she did. She seemed to care about his feeling. But why? He cursed himself at the realization that he had ridiculed himself in the so-called rescue, but the fact that she admitted otherwise to save his pride touched him.
"Why did you do this? I threw it away, I no longer want it. For what reason you jumped into the damn cold lake to get it back?"
"You didn't want to throw it away."
She was thinking of the right way to say it.
"You did it because I had provoked you."
Her answer surprised him. She put the blame on herself. To his knowledge, women were selfish and tricky, even the best women were. No woman would admit their mistake, they would hide it, they would deny it, they would make up reasons for it.
"Even if it was so, still, it's none of your damn business. So why did you do this?"
The cold wind blew and she held herself tighter. It did a little good for she wore nothing but a damp chemise, nothing shielded her naked skin from the stinging breeze. The water was cold, but she didn't really feel it when she was in it. Now that she stood here, soaking all over, she could feel herself freezing.
"I... I feel indebted to you for saving my life, and... and... I feel guilty for causing you a terrible injury and provoking you to throw this away yesterday... so I meant to redeem it."
He could recognize truth and lies from the very second, and her reason was a lie, but her intention was pure. Once again the stirring emotion discomposed him. He gazed at her thoroughly.
She was standing there, lowering her gaze to escape his, her body trembling and her teeth chattering as her hair dripped down her neck, drawing his attention to linger there. She had a long, beautiful neck. The curved shape arched down to her shoulder looked delicate and he wondered if the creamy skin over there was as smooth as it seemed. His gaze shifted down and he imagined the tender peaks pressing tight to the leather cover of the book had turned to pearls. He wondered if they were in dusky or rosy shade.
He was extremely aroused, and not artistically this time, but he allowed none of the blazing fire to escape his cold facade. He replied in a mocking tone.
"I'm starting to question your sanity. Your action made no sense."
She didn't know what to say, so she just stood still. He turned from her and walked toward the studio.
"Collect your things and come with me."
Silent. Without a glance, he knew she was surprised yet hesitant.
"Another five minutes in this cold air and you'll freeze to death."
She knew they had to get out of the damp fabric quickly and put on the dry clothes. Otherwise they would catch pneumonia. She collected her things and followed him, watching his back. He was soaking through from head to toe. She wondered how he still looked remarkably graceful in this state. She must looked like a drowned rat.
Once she entered the studio, it brought back an old memory. She had been here with Magnus, strolling along between the paintings. They had kissed here, in the middle of the room. Suddenly she felt her chest aching.
This was the place where their relationship were cruelly terminated, by the man who was now standing here with her. She watched as he kneeled down by the fireplace and started the fire. The first orange flame dancing in the hearth, she moved closer toward the fireplace to feel its warmth. She was chilling to the bone. She glanced secretly at him. In the firelight, his refined feature looked more dramatic. She imagined staring at his face for hours and never got bored. Now he looked perfectly composed, but she had learned through their little encounter that he exploded easily. Fiercely savaging whoever unfortunate to cause his fury. Yet his anger was fleeting. It never lasted long.
After the fire was well lit, he stood up and walked toward the front door. She was surprised to see him leaving. The room had just grown deliciously warm and he was soaking wet just like her.
"You're leaving?" The question escaped her lips before she knew it.
'Am I supposed to stay here while you're stripping off the last piece of your clothes?' was the first reply floated in his brain, but he kept it in place. To say something like that to her was beneath his dignity. Before he made any reply, she added
"You need to take off your clothes."
Ava bit her lip at once, too late to hold the remark. Never crossed her mind she would say such a thing to him.
He imagined how would it be to hear her saying it in another circumstances.
"I can take care of myself. For now I suppose you will need some privacy."
He strolled out of the room and closed the door behind him.
His cold politeness should have extinguished the blazing flames that enfolded her despite the chill, yet she was still fevered recalling how his eyes skimmed over her just a little time ago. She wondered how much of her that he had seen through this transparent fabric. From the way he reacted, she guessed he found her attractive... She would be damned for all the wicked, wanton and irrational thoughts that unexpectedly occurred to her in the past three days.
She got rid of all the thoughts, noticing that she was still holding the sketchbook tight to her chest. She set the book carefully on the floor by the fireplace and opened it. The book opened at the sketch of a classic estate. She admired the delicate yet precise lines for a while. The papers would certainly deform as they dried out. They would be wavy and cockled, but she was glad the beautiful artworks here remained intact. She remembered how sad she was when she found the ink-writings in her diary had faded, turned the sheets into a dirty fogged mass. She wore her dry clothes and shoes quickly after removing the damp chemise. She crammed the chemise into her small reticule and hurried toward the door.
As he stood and stared at the lake, Ashton felt the cold breeze stung his skin. He didn't feel the cold a moment ago when he was with her. Now that he was alone, he could feel every bit of his body freezing. It was strange, though. They didn't even touch.
He contemplated the ripple on the water and couldn't stop himself from questioning. Why did she do all of this? No matter how good she was at swimming, no matter how remarkable her resistance under water, still it was dangerous and involving risk. He had saved her life before and get injured because of it, but she didn't need to do this. It was only a book, not a treasure. No, for the world it might be only a book, but for him it was some kind of treasure indeed. And somehow she knew it.
Even in silence, he could feel her presence. He turned to her, indeed he just wanted to turn away from all the thoughts that haunted him while staring at the lake. She was fully dressed now, but an undesirable images of the shapely legs beneath the skirt flashed in his mind and he struggled in a desperate battle to shove it away.
"I think it's time for me to leave. Thank you for saving me again this morning."
She said politely.
That wasn't true. He knew she said that only to save his pride. If she meant to pretend it, he could play the same way.
"I wish I don't have to hear that words from you ever again next time."
He kept any emotion from showing by turning his face into a cold mask.
"I'm not in the habit of saving a crazy woman repeatedly."
Ava resisted a smile curving on her lips. Strangely, she found his sardonic remarks was kind of ... amusing now.
"I think it's quite a harsh judgment, Your Grace, but I take no offense."
He never knew a little conversation could spark a great excitement like this. For the first time in many years, something made him feel like smiling. Not a polite smile nor an obliged smile, but a real smile. He clenched his jaw to deny it.
A sudden throbbing pain broke in and a painful frown escaped his face. She noticed it at once. He looked down at his bandaged hand. The strip was soaking wet. Suddenly he recalled the doctor said he should keep away the wound from water. He took off the strip until it was completely undone. His wounded flesh looked terribly ugly now. It didn't show any progress since the first time he got a treatment. The wound had not recovered a bit, had not felt any better until now. He suspected he was definitely going to lose his drawing hand literally, if it continued to lack in recovery. The doctor had mentioned that a severe intervention might be necessarily required.
He heard a soft gasp and just noticed she had advanced him.
"Your Grace, I suspect your wound has gotten infected, you must be suffering all the time!"
Suddenly her expression turned guilty.
"And... it shouldn't be in touch with water..."
She took his hand without asking for permission, too worry to bother with such things. He noticed it yet he didn't reject her.
"What did the doctor say about it? Did he say how long will it take to recover?"
"He couldn't tell since he is still observing the indications to measure how severe the infection is..."
A slight bitterness tinged his voice when he said in an indifferent tone.
"There's a possibility I will lose my hand if things get worse."
"No!" Her sudden cry startled them both. "It would never happen!"
Her eyes widened in shocked and her expression turned painful and frantic. He was amazed by the intensity of her reaction. Like she shared the same agony, like she suffered the same loss.
Suddenly a flash of thought brought him back to his senses. He was on the edge of falling into a bottomless pit. She had rolled him into her shore like a magic wave, just a little more touch, a little more time and he would lost in her ocean. He should bring it to an end.
"It would never happen to you."
She repeated the words, indeed she was trying to convince herself.
"It's nothing of your concern."
Suddenly he snatched his hand from hers, startled her out. For a brief moment, he had opened himself to her. Now he returned to his distant attitude.
"It's me who's going to lose my hand, it has nothing to do with you. What do you care?"
"It's all my fault. I will do anything..."
"What are you going to do?!" He cut in ruthlessly.
"I have the best doctors here to take care of this matter. I can afford the best doctors in the whole country. I don't need you to do anything. Besides, what can you do? Who do you think you are?"
She couldn't think of an answer. She didn't know either. He turned from her, staring at a distance over the lake.
"You have asked for leave some time ago. Why are you still here?"
Her heart aching, but not because of his cruel words. Her heart aching because of his pain. She turned around and left him, but she knew indeed she could never leave him, alone with his pain. She had to do something, she would do anything. Anything to get things right and to return everything that might lose to its place.
*****