Part 4 (1/2)

Evelyn realized he would have to; he'd given up the lease on his lodgings. Leaving Steynings in such a rush, he hadn't thought about such things as a bed for the night.

Upon hearing this, Hurley grumbled even more. ”Need to make up a bed in one of the spare chambers, then,” he said. ”Your room's still a main mess. Paint pots everywhere, and-” he fixed Evelyn with a disapproving eye ”-Mrs. Hurley says you'll need to cover up them paintings before any respectable maid'll go in there! Like to have a fit, she did, when she saw them!”

His dreams and fantasies rioted on the wall. The G.o.d Apollo, with the nymph in his arms stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him, caught at that single instant just before their lips met... All longing, yearning and surrender. The G.o.d, who bore his face, braced, head flung back in ecstasy as she knelt, veiled only in tumbling red-gold curls, to enslave him...and the sweet moment of possession; Loveday-for it was she, and always had been-cradled in his arms, their bodies joined, two halves of a puzzle. And finally, she lay asleep in his arms, her face hidden against his shoulder, his body cradling hers. Forever.

She had painted his dreams. Even the last one, which he had not had the sense or courage to dream until now.

A soft, shocked gasp brought him around.

She was there. Sitting up, tousled and blinking in sleepy dismay in the shadows of his bed. Stunned golden eyes flickered from him to the paintings.

”I...I fell asleep.” Her husky voice stroked his senses, left him breathless, wondering what it would be like waking up to all that sleepy softness every morning. For the rest of his life. ”Why are you here?”

”Partly because David Winslow told me that Lionel is dead.” Evelyn didn't know what else to say. h.e.l.l, he didn't even know what he felt. Only that it was going to tear him apart. ”When were you going to tell me, Loveday?”

Something glimmered in her eyes. ”I couldn't,” she whispered. ”It was my fault-”

Evelyn was across the room and had her in his arms before she could go on.

”Dammit! How was it your fault?” He held her against his heart, her head tucked under his chin. He knew what had happened; Winslow had told him. But Loveday needed to say it. Exorcize it before it could fester.

Her breath came raggedly. ”Because I left him alone. He wanted to get outside. To the sh.o.r.e. So...I took him. Led him down there, and when he asked me if we'd brought anything to eat-”

”You left him sitting safely on the sand and went back to your lodgings for it.” Evelyn pressed a kiss to her hair. ”It wasn't your fault.”

”I shouldn't have left him!” she cried, pulling free of his arms. ”I knew how he felt about being blinded! And when I came back-” Her voice broke and the tears spilled over.

Evelyn drew her back into his arms. David had told him what she'd found. Her brother gone, his clothes left in a neat pile weighed down with his shoes, and a wavering line of footprints leading down to the water.

”You painted the seascape.”

Pain twisted inside her. ”Yes.” Even now she didn't understand why she had taken her paints to the sh.o.r.e the following evening, after some fishermen had brought home the body. Why it had spilled onto the canvas, all the loneliness of the dreaming, empty water. Then, all she had wanted was someone to hold her and tell her it was all a bad dream. Now she wanted something just as impossible.

She pulled free of Evelyn's arms and felt a pang of hurt that he didn't attempt to hold her this time. ”I'd better leave. I only meant to rest for a moment.”

She picked up Lionel's shabby old cloak from the end of the bed and stood up.

”Is that what you want, Loveday?”

Dark eyes watched her and his hands were balled to fists at his sides.

”What I want has nothing to do with it,” she said quietly. ”It's always been about what you want.”

He flinched. ”Dammit, Loveday! I was a young fool!”

She nodded. ”Yes. And I was younger. Sixteen, and even more foolish.” She swallowed. ”I thought it was forever. I know better now. Lionel explained, and when you stayed away I understood.” She lifted her chin. ”You'd tired of me.”

Evelyn let out a breath. ”No. No, I didn't. But I was wrong. Wrong to touch you. That night-” His hand raked through his hair. ”Lionel was coming home as I left. And he knew when he saw me where I'd been. He came to me the next day and told me exactly what he thought of me. I stayed away because I knew he was right-that I was a selfish, aristocratic b.a.s.t.a.r.d who'd seen something I wanted and taken it without a thought for who might be hurt.” His mouth twisted. ”So I tried not to be an even more selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d than I'd already been. Or so I told myself.”

”It wasn't only your fault,” she said. ”I wanted you. If I hadn't-”

”No!” His eyes blazed. ”Don't you dare blame yourself! You were an innocent. It was my fault-I was older and I knew d.a.m.n well what was happening. I should have left before-” He broke off, took a shuddering breath, and asked calmly, ”So, how did you hear about the murals?”

”I saw Colby.”

”Ah.”

”He was fuming because you'd rejected his sketches.” She swallowed. ”I had all Lionel's sketches. There were plenty of myself, and some of you, nudes, that he'd never let me even see.... I used those and my memory and, well, I thought if only you didn't know it was me-”

”Why?”

”I didn't want charity!” she snapped. ”I wanted my work accepted on its merit.”

”But surely, once I'd done that-!” His anger flared again. ”Good G.o.d, Loveday! Why not tell me then? You can't have thought I'd take further advantage of your situation! Put conditions on the commission...” He was white, dark eyes blazing into her. ”You did, didn't you?”

In that searing look she saw the self-loathing for what he had done, his vulnerability, and a terrible fear.

”Loveday-you were alone, desperate-” Evelyn's voice cracked. ”How desperate?”

”No!” Words tumbled out as she understood his fear that she had been reduced to selling herself. ”It didn't come to that, and I never thought that you would take advantage of my situation!”

His taut expression eased. ”Thank G.o.d. But why not tell me the truth, then?”

”I didn't want the commission to be because I was Lionel's sister,” she said. ”Or even because I was me. That was never what I wanted from you!” She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth. Better not to say more. She turned to leave.

”What did you want, Loveday?”

She stopped and drew a ragged breath. The very gentleness in his voice cut to the core, demanding truth.

She didn't dare turn back, but she looked over her shoulder, summoning a smile, praying her tears wouldn't fall.

”You, Evelyn. Just you. There's only ever been you.”

She saw her words. .h.i.t him. For a moment he said nothing, just stared at her.

”I don't deserve that,” he said. He shook his head as though awakening from a dream, and held out his hand, saying quietly, ”Then come and take me.”

”Are you betrothed?” That would be one sin Loveday could not reconcile with her conscience.

”No. Nor will I be.” He hesitated. ”We agreed we should not suit.”

Loveday still hesitated, all the other reasons she should deny him clamoring in her brain. She scarcely heard them over the call in those dark blue eyes and the answering leap of her own heart as she turned back and went to him.

He frowned.

”Evelyn?” Her heart faltered.

He looked confused. ”I've...I've dreamed of this.”

Oh, so had she. So many times over the lost years, trying to hold the memory of how it had felt to be in his arms- They closed around her, and she remembered...their warmth, their strength. She raised her head, expecting his kiss, but gentle hands framed her cheeks and he stared down at her. She stared back, drinking in his face, etched in shadows, a blaze that threatened to consume her lit in the dark eyes. Slow, shaking fingers traced the line of her jaw, lingered over her skittering pulse, found the trembling curve of her lower lip, so that her breath shuddered unevenly at his burning touch, as it had once before.