The Master and The Muses. Amanda McIntyre

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      “I am a woman with needs, innocent though you think me to be.” I faced him.

      His gaze narrowed and he took my chin between his fingers.

      “Those dark circles—your complexion is pale. Helen, what is the matter? What ails you?”

      His immediate change in topic and manner scattered my thoughts.

      “I am not sleeping well,” I admitted.

      He pulled me into his embrace and laid his cheek on the top of my head.

      “You must learn to trust me, Helen. When you are unhappy, I am unhappy.”

      “I don’t see myself through your eyes, Thomas.”

      “Then I will have to do better at showing you how important you are to me.”

      He smoothed his hands up and down my spine, and I welcomed this tender gesture. “You have been good to me, Thomas.”

      “I could be much more, Helen, if you’d allow.”

      His concern for my health prompted me to admit my worry regarding my employer. “I cannot keep lying, Thomas. I fear I will lose my job, or worse, Madame Tozier will go to my mother and ask her about my health.”

      He frowned. “Neither she nor your family realize that you’ve been posing for me?”

      I sighed. “Not everyone is as enamored of the brotherhood as you may like to think.”

      He chuckled. “You needn’t remind me.” His eyes drifted over my shoulder as if deep in thought. “Then we shall go see this Madame Tozier and teach her to adore the brotherhood,” he said finally.

      I laughed softly. “Do you honestly think that you can make a difference?”

      “Go get dressed. I’ll order us a carriage.” He smiled. “Oh, wait, do you need any help?” he called after me.

      “I can manage getting dressed on my own, Thomas, thank you,” I tossed back, but the smoky color of his eyes, the intimate way that he had touched me, lingered in my mind. As I dressed in his bedroom, I looked around, trying to get a clearer picture of my mysterious employer. He lived in an unkempt state and I often wondered if he hired a maid to come in and tidy up after him, but I had never seen one when I was there. I assumed that he ate out, as I’d not seen a cook either. He seemed, however, to have an endless supply of tea, wine and raspberry scones on hand. His bed was unmade, the sheets rumpled, and my mind flashed with the image of Thomas sprawled across it, his nude body draped with a careless covering. Need welled inside me. Having once tasted the precious honeyed bliss, my body craved it. I hurried to finish dressing and remove myself from the temptation of my imagination.

      “Thank you, Madame Tozier, for your contribution to the arts,” Thomas said. “We’ll be certain to credit the lovely hat that Helen holds in the painting to your generosity.”

      As he had predicted, Thomas had managed to charm my employer, reducing her to a blushing admirer.

      Thomas placed his delicate teacup on the plate he held.

      “I will be visiting Miss Bridgeton’s family as soon as we have a painting to give them. I must say it is refreshing to find a noted person in the community who appreciates the importance of the arts. Art is what differentiates us from the animals, don’t you agree, Madame Tozier?”

      “Oh, yes, I do agree, Mr. Rodeen.” Her smile was demure. “We must educate the unfortunate souls who do not understand such things.”

      I glanced away, covering my smile with my napkin. Thomas was openly charming, a shrewd businessman and, as he made no qualms in saying, he usually got what he wanted. A shiver ran through me, remembering his hand on my breast. What more did Thomas want from me? I chose to set those questions aside for the moment and simply be grateful that some of my guilt had been lifted from my shoulders. I had him to thank for that.

      “Thomas, did you mean what you said about giving my family a portrait of me?” I asked later as we rode back to the ferry where I would catch my ride home.

      He took my hand, patted it and rested it on the top of his thigh. “I needed to gain Madame Tozier’s trust, Helen. I had to make certain she would not trot off to tell your family all about us herself. By entrusting her to keep it our little surprise, she will keep our confidence.”

      “So, in short, you lied?” I asked.

      He shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as stretching the truth, quite harmlessly. Perhaps we can take them a portrait someday. Would that be so awful?”

      The image of my papa raising his gun to the sky and giving a single warning shot emerged in my head. “Perhaps we should wait a little longer before we tell my family,” I said, as my stomach began to bother me again.

      “Tilt your chin down. Now lift your eyes…good…there. Hold that look—perfect.”

      I held my gaze steady on a spot of light shimmering over Thomas’s shoulder. Being his muse was a much more daunting task than I had imagined. When he noticed my stress, he would break into song and dance me about the studio until I was in better spirits. On occasion, he would take me to the pub to dine with others in the brotherhood, but although I tried to fit in, I found myself preferring to be alone with Thomas at the studio.

      Several letters had arrived from William, always addressed to Thomas. He indicated that he was having a splendid time in Rome and hoped all was well back home. Never once did he ask about me, specifically. That single afternoon with William began to fade, replaced by the colorful moments I spent with his brother.

      “Do you wish to discuss something with me, Helen?” Thomas asked, wiping his fingers on his paint rag.

      “I’m sorry, Thomas, I’ll do better.” I shifted, straightening my spine.

      “Is it your monthly?”

      I suppose that by now, I should have been more used to his frank manner, but today it surprised me. I’d never spoken to anyone other than my mother on that subject. “No,” I uttered in haste, averting my eyes and feeling foolish.

      Thomas knelt before me, taking my hands in his. The warmth of his concern flowed through me. There was kindness in his eyes that put me at ease.

      “It is natural, Helen. What kind of man would I be if I were not sensitive to these things? Many women have posed for me. I would be a thickheaded boob if I did not understand.”

      “I have not been sleeping well. I have bouts of insomnia, but it will pass.”

      He studied me and then slapped his knee. “You need the fresh air and sunshine of the country.”

      He smiled up at me, his eyes twinkling. I thought that he meant we should visit my family at last, and now, faced with the reality of it, I wasn’t sure if I was ready just yet. “Oh, I could not face my family today, Thomas. Perhaps next week when I’m better rested.”

      He nodded. “Very well, we won’t go to see your family, as you wish. We’ll take a ride. I know! We’ll have a picnic! It’s a lovely day for it. We need to get some color СКАЧАТЬ