Page 77 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“I do, indeed! Except I’m more drawn to the pasture and the surrounding countryside right now.”
He hoped it was partially because of him. “The skylights Liam put in are incredible, as are the old floors.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful. I’m feeling a little cramped at the moment, because more classes mean more easels. We’re going to need more shelving for supplies and the like, but I’m babbling. There’s no good way to start, so I’m just going to pull out the first painting I touch. Hold the champagne.”
He grasped it as she thrust it at him. Then she bent over to tug out a canvas, and his gaze dropped to her bottom. God, she had curves to rival the very mountains.
“Ta-dah!”
She turned the canvas around, showing a pair of hands clasped in the center of what looked to be a fairy glen in front of an oak tree. Even though he couldn’t see the couple, he knew they were after love play. Sunlight touched their skin, and where their hands met, a molten red outline called to mind passion off-screen.
“God! It’s incredible, Angie. I’ve never imagined hands conveying so much.”
She ran a hand over her brow. “Whew! Thank God for that. I started painting landscapes, but I was almost compelled to paint hands. Carrick, I’ve painted a lot of hands. And eyes… I’m thinking my show will be about what the hands and eyes tell us. The best art shows have a theme.”
He came closer, studying her brushstrokes. They were bold in defining the outline of the hands, but inside they were almost soft and gentle. Like lovers taking their time with each other. His body heated at the thought. Truthfully, the painting was quite erotic. Or maybe he was just reacting to standing there alone in the studio with her. The full force of the desire he had for her rose up within him, and instead of pushing it back, forcing it into submission, he welcomed it.
I am unafraid.
“Show me more.”
Her mouth tipped up, and then she was bending over again. God, how he wanted to put his hands on her.
When she turned another painting around to him, his breath caught in his throat.
There was nothing but eyes in a cloud of white, and the bleakness and longing in them were emotions he’d seen in the mirror often enough. He started. His gaze tracked to the last painting. Could those be—
“They’re your eyes,” she said softly. “And our hands. I tried to make them different, but I knew the moment you realized it. Carrick, if it’s too private a thing for you, I won’t share these paintings. But I don’t think anyone but us would know.”
He wrestled his gaze from the paintings and looked at her. “I would never ask you to hide something you created. Not even if everyone in the village suspected it was me.”
She seemed to wilt like a wild lily beside the road in the heat. “Oh, thank God! I was really hoping you’d say that. I mean, some of your wife’s poems had to be about you. I figured you’re one hell of an inspiration for us artists.”
He chuckled softly. “One hell of an inspiration, huh? Yes, some of Sorcha’s poems were about me. How did you know?”
She gulped. “Some of the words on your sheep.Love. Romance.You know…”
He was charmed she was rocking on her feet. “It’s been a while, but yes, I know them. Am I only inspiring to you then?”
Her throat moved again, slower this time. “That’s a very direct question.”
“’Tis.” His voice had deepened, anticipating her response.
She held up her hand. For a moment he thought she was going to touch him, and his heart quickened with it, but then she turned and pulled out another canvas.
When she showed him this painting, he had his answer. The scene was one he’d described to her some time ago, of lovers in the fairy fort amidst the gorge. This time their hands were in the grass, entwined and clenched in passion, as if the man was inside the woman below him. The couple was off-screen again, but it didn’t matter. He and anyone else who viewed it would know they were making love in the sweetgrass as the sunshine played over them.
Sweat broke out in the middle of his back. He should have taken off his jacket. But it wouldn’t have mattered. He was heated from within.
“How’s that for an answer?” She was breathless.
He strolled forward at last, unscrewing the gold foil and wire holding the champagne cork in place, and popped it against the wall.
She laughed. “Oh, goodie! That sound means fun.”
He was sending her a devilish wink and a rakish smile before he could think about it. He laughed. Devilish winks and rakish smiles had seemed gone from him.
She had brought them back, God bless her.
