A Promise of Passion

by Maggie Carpenter

  “Our timing couldn’t be better,” Robson remarked, oblivious to the heat coloring her cheeks. “He just finished a major work for the Ambassador. I believe the painting may even be unveiled this evening.”

  “Is that the reason for the dinner?” she managed, still attempting to regain her composure

  “Vivien? Have you forgotten? I told you why the Ambassador is having this dinner.”

  Of course I’ve forgotten. How could I remember anything right now? I can barely think at all.

  “I’m sorry, Robson, probably just all the wedding preparations,” she stammered.

  “His posting is coming to an end this month. It’s his farewell to the friends he’s made here,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, of course,” she mumbled, willing away the warm tingling under her flowing gown where the artist had fleetingly wandered his hand.

  A gong sounded and she inwardly sighed. She wasn’t feeling right, and Robson was frowning. When Robson frowned it could go one of two ways; the frown would turn into a scowl, then a glower, and she’d find herself at the end of a reprimanding tongue, or the frown would slowly fade, and the charming sweet man would return.

  “Dinner, excellent, I do hope one of us is seated next to our painter,” Robson remarked.

  “Yes, that would be, uh, good,” Vivien muttered.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.”

  A liveried butler was standing beside the double doors that led into the formal dining room, and as she looped her arm through Robson’s, she began to feel better.

  What’s wrong me? Probably just some coincidental lightheadedness, and Dominic Dubois probably didn’t even mean to touch me, it was just an accident, yes, just an accident…I’m sure of it.

  As they entered, several young women were moving quickly through the crowd helping the guests find their seats. Vivien had seen the system before, and wondered how the girls could memorize everyone’s name and place setting.

  “Viscount Parker-Jones, Miss McKay, the Ambassador is delighted you could attend,” one of the efficient young women smiled as she approached. “Viscount, you are at table six near the fireplace, and Miss McKay, table three by the piano.”

  “Have a lovely dinner, Robson,” she said warmly, relieved his frown was waning.

  “You too, my beauty,” he replied, kissing her hand.

  Vivien followed her escort across the room, ignoring the admiring glances that inevitably followed her, and took her seat where the name tag on the table directed.

  “We are meeting again!”

  Spinning her head around, Vivien stared up at the handsome face standing over her.

  “Mr. Dubois!” she exclaimed.

  “Mr. Dubois? No, it must be Dominic,” he lightly scolded, pulling out the chair to her left. “I see we are table partners.”

  She hadn’t noticed the place card bearing his name, and startled by his unexpected appearance she reached for her champagne glass. Having learned early in her career that she had no tolerance for alcohol she drank very little, but the voice in her head was insisting.

  If you ever needed something to take the edge off, it’s now! I might even drink the whole damn glass.

  “You have been behind the camera a thousand times,” he remarked, “but have you ever sat still for an hour while someone attempts to capture you for his canvas?”

  Carefully placing her champagne flute back on the table, she took a discreet deep breath, turned to face him, and was about to speak when she found herself sinking into the deep brown of his eyes, and your lips, why didn’t I notice before. You’re lips are so thick, and-

  “Vivien?”

  “Oh, I do apologize. I’m preoccupied with my wedding,” she said hastily. “I find my thoughts wandering to the strangest things, like, the tablecloths, for example, and, uh, flowers and so forth.”

  “And yet, I do not believe it was tablecloths on your mind just now.”

  A warm flush began at her neck, and as it crept upward, she turned back to her champagne.

  “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable,” he continued softly, “and since you will soon be married, perhaps you would like to tell me details of the wedding.”

  You’re being ridiculous. This is not the first man to flirt with you.

  True, but he’s…different.

  No, he’s not, he’s just a man, maybe a bit more handsome and mysterious than the rest, but a man nonetheless. Put him in his place.

  You’re right.

  “Mr. Dubois-”

  “Dominic,” he interrupted firmly.

  “Dominic, I accept your apology,” she said softly, “but as you just mentioned I’m about to be married, so my thoughts, whatever they might be, really aren’t any concern of yours.”

  “Ah,” he frowned. “I will not be so, what is that word, presumptuous, again tonight,” but maybe when we are alone in my studio.

  “Thank you,” she replied, offering a slight smile.

  “Remember, though,” he reminded her, “if I am to paint you, I must see you, all of you, and I see only glimpses.”

  “This is not the time or place to see, uh, more of me,” she stammered, feeling her face flush. Of all the ways to put it, why did I have to say it like that?

  He broke into a wide smile and rolled his heavy brown eyes.

  “You are right,” he nodded. “I forgot myself for a moment,” because you have captured me, because when I look at you there is no-one else here.

  Other guests had begun to take their seats at the table, and turning his back to her he introduced himself to the elderly gentleman who had taken the chair at his other side.

  Following suit, she turned to meet the person who had just pulled out the chair on her right, and found herself looking at a young man about her age, who was blond, attractive, and extremely nervous.

  “My name is Peter Burrows, and may I say how delighted I am to be seated next to you,” he said earnestly. “Quite honestly, I can’t believe my luck.”

  His admiring green eyes held no intrigue or danger, and she smiled back at him, his sweet sincerity charming and relaxing her.

  “Peter, how kind of you to say so, and what brings you to this dinner?” she asked, starting the small talk at which she was so practiced.

  Throughout the meal, she only occasionally made eye contact with the intriguing, unsettling painter, but whenever their knees accidentally touched under the table, her heart skipped a beat. The courses of exotic food came and went, and it wasn’t until a slice of chocolate cake was placed in front of her, that Dominic demanded her attention.

  “It’s been an honor to sit next to the loveliest lady in the room,” he said discreetly, “and again, my apologies if my earlier comments offended you.”

  Though staring at the delectable dessert, her focus had been on the soft, fluid richness of his voice.

  “You didn’t offend me at all, and it’s forgotten,” she replied, unable to resist looking up at him and losing herself in his gaze.

  “You’re very gracious,” he smiled, “and now I must prepare to show my painting.”

  Rising from the chair he moved through the room, disappearing through the double doors, but his accented voice remained, the intonations and unique delivery dripping over her, making him impossible to put out of her mind.

  “Do you know him, outside of here, I mean?” the adoring young man asked, interrupting her reverie. “I hear he’s quite a character.”

  “No, I’ve only just met him,” she replied, and though she fought the impulse she had to enquire. “How do you mean, quite a character?”

  “He’s a sort of mystery man. Hard to pin down, so I’m told, not the most accessible of artists.”

  “Ah, well, many artists are a bit quirky,” she remarked, thinking her adoring fan had offered nothing at all.

  A short while later the gong sounded, and the guests were invited to return to the reception area for the unveiling of the Ambassador’s portrait. As Vivien rose
from her chair, she saw Robson moving across to her.

  “How fortuitous that you were seated next to Dominic,” he remarked.

  “Yes, but we really didn’t have much chance to talk.”

  They moved into the reception area, and stood waiting with the other guests for the big moment. An easel was standing on a riser, the large canvas covered with a white sheet; Dominic stood on one side, the Ambassador on the other.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the Ambassador began, “it’s been said that our esteemed artist, Dominic Dubois, has a talent for capturing the essence of his subjects. I’ve not seen this painting, and I must confess I am a bit nervous.”

  A smattering of laughter filled the small room, and two young, gloved men stepped up on either side of the covered canvas, each taking a corner of the sheet.

  “So then, let us see what my essence is,” the Ambassador declared, a large, nervous grin on his face.

  The sheet was carefully lifted up and over the painting; it showed him perched on the edge of his seventeenth century desk, a frown on his forehead, a smile on his face, and an unmistakable sparkle in his blue eyes. Applause filled the room, and appearing rather red-faced, the Ambassador moved quickly across to Dominic and enthusiastically shook his hand.

  “What an intriguing expression he has on his face. I wonder what Mr. Dubois will uncover in you,” Robson murmured.

  “I’m not sure there’s much to uncover,” she replied, and as a quiver of anticipation shivered down her spine, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The admiring onlookers could never have known the inspiration behind the inscrutable look on the Ambassador’s face. Dominic Dubois was inquisitive, and sought unique qualities in his subjects, glimmers of a ‘certain something’ behind the eyes; the Ambassador, Lukas Bietak was no exception, though the circumstances behind his particular painting was one that had taken even the worldly Mr. Dubois by surprise.

  The unexpected situation in which Dominic found himself had occurred several months before, during his second visit to the Embassy.

  The Ambassador’s wife, Kirsten, was a handsome woman, with a sharp wit and an eager, enthusiastic personality. On his first week-long stay with the couple, Dominic had found her to be charming and delightful, but the following trip he immediately sensed a strain between Lukas and Kirsten, a tension that seemed to permeate the entire household.

  Whatever the issue between the couple, it had made Lukas withdrawn and preoccupied, and any conversation Dominic attempted was strained. He considered postponing the portrait, but decided to have one last attempt to bring the Ambassador out of his shell; if nothing else, he might be able to offer the man some comfort.

  It was late in the evening, after an awkward dinner, when the opportunity presented itself. Dominic and his host had retired to the Ambassador’s study, a masculine, wood-paneled room, and both men had consumed several brandies; Dominic was lounging on a leather sofa, while the Ambassador was standing in front of a blazing fire. A comfortable silence had settled upon them when Lukas unexpectedly began talking about his wife.

  “I am sorry for my lack of manners these last few days,” Lukas unexpectedly apologized. “Things haven’t been easy recently.”

  “We all have tough times,” Dominic said pleasantly. “Is there anything I can do? I’m happy to listen if you wish to talk about it.”

  “I would, if you don’t mind,” Lukas nodded. “It’s my wife. I just don’t know what to do with the woman. She simply won’t listen to reason.”

  Dominic sat up and leaned forward.

  “Has she been this difficult in the past?”

  “No, never, but these last two weeks she’s been provoking me at every turn. I’ve asked her what’s bothering her, but she just stares at me, as if I’m the one who’s being dense. It seems as if she’s purposely testing my patience.”

  “Hmmm, perhaps she is,” Dominic frowned. “Forgive me if I am being too personal, but it is possible Kirsten is seeking a very specific reaction from you?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. Please, don’t hold back, I’m truly at my wits end. Please, Dominic, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking your wife wants to be, as they say, taken in hand.”

  Dominic paused, allowing his comment to register, and a moment later he saw the penny drop.

  "Ach du meine Güte!” Lukas exclaimed. “Forgive me slipping into my German, but you are right.”

  “Why are you so sure?”

  “Ach. My friend, Mario, and his wife Brigette, they were here just a little while ago. He told me about this, taking in hand. He has done this with Brigette, and he swears it has brought peace into their life.”

  “He must be relieved,” Dominic smiled.

  “Mario is a kindly man, very gentle, but he told me that Brigette’s nagging has grown impossible over the last few months. He read about this, taking in hand business, on the internet, and one day he decided to take a paddle to her backside. Presto, she is now again the sweet girl he married. I’m sure Brigette must have told my wife, and now my wife is trying to have me do these things.”

  “Ah, so the timing coincides,” Dominic remarked.

  “Yes, perfectly,” Lukas nodded. “So, do I just spank her? What do I do? I have no experience in these matters.”

  “It just so happens, I do,” Dominic smiled, “and I will be happy to help you.”

  “I would be most grateful. Where do I start?”

  “Perhaps,” he replied thoughtfully, “I could arrange a demonstration. There is a young woman I know, an actress, who enjoys this sort of thing.”

  “So, you would bring her here?”

  “Yes, but a man of your position must be careful, so I would bring her blindfolded.”

  “I can make sure the staff and Kirsten are away for a couple of hours. Kirsten has been pining to visit a friend in Vienna. This will be no trouble at all,” Luka declared.

  “You tell me when, and I’ll arrange everything,” Dominic promised.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Lukas said quietly, “how is it you know about these things?”

  “It is how I live my life, how I must live my life,” Dominic said soberly. “I am a man who enjoys the darker side of the erotic arts.”

  “I see things in your eyes as you speak, and now I understand,” Lukas nodded. “Let us arrange this for two nights from now.”

  “Consider it done,” Dominic promised.

  The young woman in question was thrilled to hear from Dominic, and after he’d explained in detail the circumstances surrounding the ‘demonstration,’ she was eager to participate. He gave her instructions to wear simple undergarments, and an elegant dress.

  “The identity of the man in question must be kept confidential, so you’ll be blindfolded from start to finish,” he explained.

  “I understand, and you know me, Dominic, I absolutely love being blindfolded. I think the whole thing is so exciting…I can’t wait.”

  On the night in question, he collected her from her flat, and once inside his car, he placed a blindfold over her eyes.

  “This is so much fun,” she giggled as he drove to the Ambassador’s residence.

  “I’m very grateful to you, Peggy, you’re a good girl to do me this favor.”

  “Are you kidding, I’m thrilled you asked me. I’m going to be totally convincing as a difficult wife, just you wait and see.”

  “What is it the English say, God help us? You’re almost scaring me,” he chuckled. “I’ve never dealt with a difficult wife.”

  “If anyone could handle a difficult wife, it would be you, Dominic,” she laughed.

  “We’re here, you know what to do, but you must not take off that blindfold,” he said sternly.

  “I won’t, you can trust me,” she promised.

  Lukas was in the front reception room anxiously staring out the windows. He’d given Dominic a remote control for the gates, and as he saw
them swing open, he immediately stepped out the front door.

  Dominic helped Peggy from the car, then picking her up, quickly carried her inside the house and straight into the study, placing her on the couch.

  “Don’t move,” he said firmly, “I’ll be right back,” and gestured for Lukas to join him in the hallway.

  “She knows you’ll be watching,” Dominic said softly. “I suggest you stay by your desk. We’re going to act out a scenario, and it will help you understand how these things are done.”

  “Merci, Dominic, Merci.”

  “If you want me to do anything specific, or if want to talk to me while we are acting out this little scene, just cough, and I will come over to you.”

  Moving back into the study, Lukas walked swiftly behind his desk and sat in his large leather chair, while Dominic stood in front of the couch and began.

  “Peggy, you’re late again. You know we have to be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

  “I don’t feel like going,” she quipped. “Besides, you don’t need me, you’ll have plenty of girls to keep you company.”

  “You are my wife and I want you there. I don’t care about other women.”

  “That’s what you say, but I see how you look at the young girls on the staff here.”

  Dominic glimpsed movement from behind the desk, and glancing across he saw Lukas standing up, his mouth open, his eyes wide. It was immediately obvious Peggy was behaving in a manner with which the Ambassador was all too familiar.

  “I don’t look at them at all. Why are you being so difficult?” Dominic demanded, raising his voice.

  “Me? Difficult? I’m not the one gawking at the female in the house.”

  Lukas had begun moving around the desk, mesmerized by what he was witnessing.

  “Peggy, I’m warning you, if you don’t stop acting like this I just might, might-”

  “Might what?” Peggy scoffed.

  “Spank you,” Dominic exclaimed.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she haughtily replied.