Page 41 of Temptation and the Artist

“Will you marry me, Aline?” he asked her, just before he fell asleep. He felt boneless and ecstatic after their loving, and her words of love had brought him at least as much joy.

Her eyes opened, sleepily smiling, although there was a hint of worry behind it. “Unfair to ask me after that. I will agree to anything when you love me.”

“That’s settled then.”

She laughed. “No, it isn’t,” she said, kissing him and closing her eyes again.

So did he, and in each other’s arms, they fell asleep.

He was foolish, he knew, to expect everything at once. This night was enough for now. Her love was more than he had ever dreamed of. Beneath whatever held her back, she was already his, and he would marry her.

Chapter Twelve

“Do you like Mr. Dornan?” Aline asked Basil casually. They had been back at Renwick’s Hotel for two days and were planning to leave for town that afternoon. So, she and Basil were making a last visit to the pleasure garden, which gave her a rare moment of privacy with her son, to learn Basil’s views.

“Yes, I like him.” Basil grinned. “He says I can call him Stephen! And he likes my drawings. Maybe mine will be as good as his one day.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “Would you mind if he came to live with us?”

Stephen’s eyes widened a bit. “No, that might be fun. Doesn’t he have a house of his own?”

“I think he does, in the country. We could live with him there sometimes, too.”

“Oh yes,” Stephen enthused. “Does he have dogs and horses? And lambs?”

Aline laughed. “I expect so, though you would have to ask him. The thing is, he has asked me to marry him, and I wondered if you thought that was a good idea.”

Stephen thought about it. “You’re happier around him.”

“Am I?” Aline asked, smiling. Of course, I am. “So are you, I think.”

“And Mr. Flowers likes him. He doesn’t glare at him anymore, except in fun. You probably should marry him. Then we can all be happy. He’s not like the prince, is he?”

Aline swallowed. “No, he’s not like the prince. Do you miss your stepfather?”

“Not really. He was kind enough, but he didn’t really see me. I wasn’t comfortable there. I like it here, though. In town. And I would like to live in the country, too. Stephen can teach me how to ride better.”

“I’m sure he will.”

Basil was an odd mixture of childishness and maturity, shrewdness and naivety. Perhaps all children were. His words echoed around her mind as they wandered around the entertainments and returned to the hotel to pack up the last of their things. Something had bothered her though she couldn’t put her finger on what.

“Mr. Dornan was looking for you, madam,” Burton said as they returned to the room. “He asked that you step up to his studio when you return.”

“Very well,” Aline said calmly, though, in fact, she was both surprised and pleased by the invitation. She hadn’t seen a great deal of him since their return to Renwick’s. Although he had dined with them each night, and taken every opportunity to befuddle her with ravishing kisses, he had been working mostly on his paintings, for which, it seemed, he no longer needed her to sit. Or was that why she had been summoned?

She made her familiar way to the room next to the staff stairs on the floor above and knocked. The door opened at once, and Stephen stood there in his shirt-sleeves, although there were no obvious signs of paint on him.

His eyes lit up at the sight of her, making her heart race, although he seemed unusually serious.

“Aline, come in. Thank you. I wanted you to see them now because I know you will be honest with me, and I am afraid of being too involved to see straight.”

He closed the door behind her while she watched him warily. “You’re babbling. That means you’re worried.”

“Damnably worried, if you’ll pardon my language. Will you look at the portraits?”

Only then did she realize he had all the easels set up with uncovered canvases. “Of course.”

He took her hand and led her to the easels. And suddenly, there she was in the rose garden, a bundle of exquisite, colorful roses in her arm while she reached for a higher bloom and glanced back with an expression that betrayed both humor and hurry. Something about it made her blush.

---