Page 275 of Naughty Nelle

CHAPTER 31

The day of the ball comes fast and furious. Though exhausted from all of Marcella’s demands, I wake up earlier than usual. Gallant’s already downstairs in the kitchen when I get there. He’s forgone his usual cup of tea, yet he’s especially upbeat and energized. Of course. Tonight, he and Marcella will at last officially announce their engagement to the kingdom. A heart wrenching pain hits me deep in my gut.

“Jane, there is something I need to show you,” Gallant says eagerly.

I try to beg off. The ball’s only hours away, and the last minute details are overwhelming. First on my list: Picking up Marcella’s gown from Emperor Armando. Okay. The truth. I can’t bear to be with him.

Gallant won’t take no for an answer. I bet it’s yet another last-minute thing Marcella wants done for the ball. I’m surprised when he instead leads me outside. His white stallion awaits us, ready to ride. He lifts me up onto the saddle, then mounts the majestic horse. This time I’m sitting in front of him, his brawny arms wrapped tightly around me. My heart is galloping. Where’s he taking me?

As the sun rises, we trot down a familiar path. I know—the path that leads to his studio. Great! I’d love to see his paintings again. Maybe he’s painted something new.

Gallant’s been a different person since breaking the news to his father about his true ambition. He smiles often and laughs. I’ve even heard him sing. What a voice! Best of all, to Marcella’s chagrin, he’s been spending a lot more time with Calla—playing with her, telling her stories, and helping her with her French. He even took her shopping at The Trove. Ha! You should have seen the expression on the PIW’s face when her future stepdaughter came back with a coach full of new clothes—including a gown for the ball. So much for Calla not going and me having to babysit her.

I was right. Gallant has taken me to his studio. He unlocks the door and lets the early morning sunshine slip in. The streak of light makes the paintings more radiant than I remember. My eyes bounce from one canvas to the next. Each, be it a portrait, landscape, or still life, moves me more deeply than before.

The studio smells different this time. I can’t identify the scent. Then I see an easel. Tubes of paint and various size brushes are scattered on it. Ah-ha. Gallant has begun to paint again.

In the back corner, the unfinished portrait of his late wife is still mounted on an easel and covered. Has he worked on it? Before I can ask, The Prince takes my hand and pulls me over to it. In a single swoop, he sweeps off the damask and reveals the canvas. Oh my God! I’m going to pass out!

Gallant has completed the portrait of his late wife. It’s a masterpiece. A woman, whose beauty is beyond all others, smiles at me as she picks a bouquet of lilies and roses. Her wavy dark hair is held back by a big red bow while her matching red cloak floats in the summer breeze. What’s most outstanding is her milky-white skin. It’s fairer than the blooms she’s holding.

The Prince beholds the painting with pride. “Jane, you inspired me to follow my dream, my passion. And to complete the painting that means the most to me.”

I’m paralyzed. I can’t get my mouth to move or my brain to think.

Gallant turns to me. “Jane, you look as if you have just seen a ghost. Are you okay?”

Am I okay? Is he kidding? I have seen a ghost. And not just any ghost.

“I’m a little overwhelmed by the painting,” I stammer. A little overwhelmed? That’s got to be the understatement of all times. I’m in a state of shock!

“Be honest, what do you think?”

I think I’m going to die! I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t even feel my heart beating.

“Jane,” he continues, “I want to hear your thoughts. You have such a keen mind when it comes to art.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I manage to say.

“Yes, she was,” says Gallant with growing excitement. “Tell me more. What about the colors?”

“Th-they’re perfect,” I splutter. “Her skin’s as white as snow; her hair as black as ebony, and her lips as red as blood.”

“Amazing!” Gallant’s blue eyes sparkle. “That is exactly what I wanted to convey.”

The Prince pauses to smile at the portrait. “Jane, I am beholden to you. Completing this painting has made me feel whole again.”

I, on the other hand, feel like a million little pieces. Like a jigsaw puzzle that can’t be put together. Or a shattered mirror.

“I have even started to work on another painting,” he adds, his face beaming.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse another large canvas across the room—the beginnings of another portrait. I’m too shaken to focus on it.

“I’ve got to go.” I hurry toward the door.

“Jane, wait!”

Gallant dashes after me. Hooking his arm around my waist, he stops me in my tracks. He spins me around and draws me to him. Our bodies meet. We’re so close I can’t tell whose heartbeat is whose. Cradling my face in one hand and holding me tightly against him with the other, he lowers his head and presses his lips on mine. Our tongues dance. A fire rips through my body, awakening every part of my being. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. No matter how much I will it, our lips will not separate. To be truthful, I don’t want it to end.

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