Painting Rain (Books of Dalthia Book 4)

by Annette K. Larsen

  I finished straightening my space in a huff, irritated by Dante’s continued interference. Especially when he could bring the wrath of my father down on West if he decided to voice his concerns.

  A cold breeze was blowing as we left the villa, so it was easy to wrap myself in my cloak and in my own silence as I walked down the lane.

  We reached the Brooks’, and instead of climbing the front steps to go inside, I went around to the side gate.

  “Princess, aren’t you going to go in for lunch?” Stephen asked as I undid the latch.

  “Not yet.”

  “But—”

  “You go inside,” I heard West murmur. “I’ll take care of this.”

  He caught up to me easily, falling into step beside me. “Is this about Dante?”

  “He knows something is happening between us.” I kept walking, my arms folded, my head down.

  “What did he say?”

  I stopped and turned to him. “He called it a tryst.”

  He took a breath, nodding as if he’d suspected as much.

  “He must have seen us together,” I continued. “We must not be acting carefully enough.”

  His brows pinched together. “So we’ll be more careful. But even if he were to throw out some accusations, I don’t think they would be believed. And even if Sterrino believed them, I doubt he would care.”

  “But…”

  “Yes, there are rules. And we are breaking them. But we’re not committing a crime. And I’m willing to take the risk.” He considered me for only a moment before asking, “Are you?”

  I let out a sigh, trying not to worry too much, but to be realistic at the same time. “If you’re dismissed from your position, how would you find one elsewhere?”

  He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, soothing my worry. “As I said, I’m willing to take the risk.”

  Suddenly tired from worrying, I leaned against his chest and let out a sigh. “I don’t know which is worse, pretending to feel less for you than I do, or worrying that your future is in jeopardy.”

  He kissed the top of my head, but said nothing.

  “I’m cold,” I said, realizing it for the first time.

  “You should go inside and eat. Have some warm tea. I don’t want you getting a chill.”

  I nodded and lifted my head to look at him.

  “Don’t look at me that way, or I won’t let you go in.”

  A tiny laugh escaped and he swooped in for a quick kiss before I pulled away and hurried inside.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I FOUND INGRID first thing the next morning. I hadn’t seen her the day before, and I wanted to say hello, hoping the camaraderie I had felt with her when she had come to visit would continue. Her smile was even wider than usual as she latched on to my hand and dragged me over to the window, where we would have a modicum of privacy. She turned to me, her countenance beaming with excitement. “I met with the master yesterday!” she whispered in excitement while trying to hide her grin behind her hand.

  “That’s wonderful!” I exclaimed.

  “I’ll admit, I was a bit worried that since he was now working with you, he wouldn’t want to give me a chance, but I think that he might be changing his mind about working with his female students.”

  “If anyone can change his mind, it’s you. Your work is incredible.” In fact, I was a bit baffled that he had given me a chance before considering Ingrid. It was a relief to know that he had not passed her over. “When do you next meet with him?”

  “Tomorrow. He asked me to continue my work on my current piece so that he could see what kind of progress I can make.”

  “Will you show me?” I asked.

  She nodded and pulled me back to her workspace. The canvas she was working on portrayed a girl sitting on the steps of a white stone manor, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her lips parted, making her look as though she’d suffered some sort of shock.

  “Amazing,” was the only word I could think of.

  Ingrid looked pleased by the compliment. “Oh!” she said as though remembering something. She turned and pulled out the painting she had done after having West and me pose for her. It was nearly done, and a distinct heat crept up my neck as I looked at it. She had obviously used the faces of the models, but the way the girl was sinking back against the gentleman and the way his arm held her around the waist brought back the potent memory of being in that position with West. “It’s…very well done,” I said in a breathless rush.

  She winked at me, which I chose to ignore, then she insisted that I show her what progress I had made.

  I only had a portion of the dead-coloring set in place, so there really wasn’t much to see.

  “I can’t wait for you to get some color on the canvas,” she said.

  “That makes two of us. My hands are fairly itching to do it, but I’m determined to get each layer right before moving on.”

  She squeezed my hand with a, “Good luck,” and returned to her work.

  The morning passed with some frustration, but overall I was making progress. And though I caught sight of Dante several times as he advised other students, he never bothered coming my way. As midday approached, I realized that I required Master Sterrino’s opinion before I could move forward. I gathered my paints, resigned to setting my canvas aside for a while. I would need to pull out my sketches and finalize my next scene.

  I grabbed my brushes and took them to the back corner where they would need to soak in oil before being cleaned.

  Footsteps sounded behind me and I turned to see West, carrying several rags and my palette.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be out there, watching for potential dangers?” I teased.

  He grinned and stepped closer, reaching over me to set my palette on a shelf. Then he lingered, his body close enough that I could feel his warmth. “It makes much more sense for me to be in here, ready to throw myself between you and danger.”

  “Always the gallant one,” I breathed, my gaze arrested by his mouth.

  He grinned, leaning closer.

  “Oh! Excuse me!”

  The startled exclamation made us jump apart. West immediately gave a parting bow and left the closet while I turned my burning face to the long work surface set against the wall. I picked up my brushes and swished them in the oil, pretending Ingrid had not just caught me flirting with West in a back corner.

  I should have said hello or asked her if she needed help finding something—anything that would have looked even a little bit normal. Instead I hunched over the table and kept swishing.

  “Raina,” she said in a voice that sounded much too delighted. She rushed to my side and whispered conspiratorially, “Have you been keeping secrets from me, Princess?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” My voice cracked.

  “Don’t play coy now.” She glanced over her shoulders, as if she could see through the wall to the gallery beyond. “He is a handsome one, isn’t he?”

  “Who?”

  She scoffed. “Stop being obtuse. I know what I saw, and I should probably apologize for interrupting a very private moment between the two of you.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

  I managed to look her in the eye for half a second. “Don’t be silly. We are only friends.”

  She laughed outright. “You’re a terrible liar. Why won’t you tell me about it? Do you think I would judge?”

  Wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t everyone? “It’s merely…it’s a bit of a secret.”

  “Well, of course it is. But you really should be more careful. You don’t wish to be caught. I would imagine that would be quite embarrassing.”

  “It’s complicated, that’s all.” And she was right. We would need to be much more careful.

  “Don’t look so serious. I certainly don’t fault you. No doubt you need a diversion with the pressure you’re under.”

  I frowned. “That’s not what it is.” She thought I was playing with him, which was so very far from the truth.

  “
Just don’t let him distract you too much; you wouldn’t want to miss any real suitors that happen along.”

  My face slipped into a pout. “What makes you think he’s not a real suitor?” The moment the words were out of my mouth, I realized my mistake. The look that lit up Ingrid’s face said it all. She had thought of my situation as a bit of fun, but now she saw it for the scandal it was. I should have let her think it was simply a harmless flirtation, instead of admitting that I wanted him to pursue me.

  “Raina,” she breathed in shock.

  “Ladies.”

  We both spun at the sound of Dante’s voice.

  “I believe you both have better things to do than huddle in a back corner and gossip.”

  I turned back to cleaning my brushes and Ingrid grabbed something from a shelf. “I merely needed more pigment,” she said, without a hint of guilt coloring her voice, and swept past him.

  He lingered in the doorway and I could feel his eyes staring at my profile, but I refused to look at him. Eventually, he returned to the gallery.

  After cleaning my brushes more thoroughly than ever before, I returned to my station. West sat nearby, as always, his hands busy with several strips of leather, but his eyes studied my face. Lines of worry creased his brow and he gave me a nod. I think he knew as well as I did that we would need to discuss what had just happened. We were lucky that Ingrid had been the one to find us, and we would need to exercise more caution in the future.

  The problem was that I didn’t want to be careful. I had spent years, too many years, pushing people away. What I wanted with West was to throw caution to the wind, to let myself love him.

  If only wishing made it so.

  ✼ ✼ ✼

  On returning home, I didn’t rush out to the garden. I sat at luncheon with Lady Brook, leaving only after a visitor had come to call on her. I went to my room and found a letter waiting for me. It was from my youngest sister, Lylin. She chastised me for not writing to tell her of my grand adventure, but admitted that she didn’t actually think I would write her back. Oddly enough, I did consider writing to her, telling her of my dilemma, but how could I express in words something that I didn’t yet understand?

  I had thought that our small snatches of time together would be enough, and perhaps they could have been. Perhaps I would have been satisfied with so little time if I weren’t terrified of being discovered—if I weren’t so afraid of being forced to choose between my painting and him.

  I dropped my head into my hands. Why did I always have to make things more complicated than they needed to be? I had come here to paint, and instead of focusing all my energy on improving myself, I had fallen for West. Wonderful, sweet West.

  He gave me a contentment that had been absent in my life. His approval of me was effusive and so obvious that I never doubted his sincerity. I was able to sink into my painting without second-guessing every stroke. I was able to look at my feelings and utilize them in my work while keeping my technique pure. I made mistakes, and I didn’t hate myself for them.

  Whatever I was risking by being with him, it was worth it—so long as we were not discovered and forced to part ways.

  I pulled myself together, regaining my poise by the time dinner was announced. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just the Brooks and me around the table, eating and conversing. Though it was mostly Lady Brook and myself that did the talking. Lord Brook, I had discovered, was quite content with the silence. Apart from his occasional displays of doting on his wife, his usual character was much more suited to solitude. He was quiet, introspective, and usually occupied by his own thoughts and endeavors. While I believed the two had a genuine affection for one another, it seemed clear that Lady Brook hoped for more, but had learned to be satisfied with Lord Brook’s small efforts.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if that was what my marriage would have been like. If I had gone through with my betrothal—if I had married Lord Fallon—would either of us have been comfortable and satisfied? Or would it have been a constant effort to please the other when it was more a duty than a desire?

  Probably the latter. I didn’t think I could have ever been truly satisfied in that marriage, and I knew that Lord Fallon would not have been satisfied with me.

  As dessert arrived, I had the sudden need to be with West, to hear his voice and feel the simple satisfaction of knowing he was there. I ate the sweet confection faster than I should have, though I tried to pace myself.

  I did all that was polite as I excused myself, knowing that we had already had one near miss today and there was no need to tempt fate. I left the house, but instead of getting lost in the gardens, I remained on the veranda. I followed the path of light streaming from the open door until I reached the balustrade, and there I waited.

  I heard his footsteps joining me in the night air, but he did not approach. We were within full view of the house and I knew he wouldn’t risk it.

  His footsteps sounded again and I imagined him slipping into the shadows of the house, away from the light.

  “You’re not going out to the gardens?”

  A sigh escaped me as my desire to do just that flared within me. “I worry my frequent disappearances will become suspect.”

  “I’m sorry about today. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  I wanted to turn and look at him, to see his eyes and let him see mine, but I kept my back to him and spoke to the night. “Perhaps neither of us can think clearly when the other is around.”

  “Are you saying I’ve addled your brain with my roguish handsomeness?”

  I grinned at that. “Is handsomeness even a real word?”

  “If it isn’t, then it should be.” The silence settled into the darkness for a moment before he continued. “So, what now? Shall I pretend to be a spirit speaking to you from the shadows?”

  “Yes, and I will be the silly maiden talking to the stars, asking for my wish to be granted.”

  “And what is your wish?”

  I looked at the stars and the vast wishing that they represented. “All my wishes are for you. I shall send my pleas to the sky, asking for all the goodness you deserve to be settled on your shoulders.”

  “And my worries? Will the princess plead for those to be taken from me as well?”

  I almost turned to look at him as a vulnerability crept into his voice. “What are your worries, Sir Spirit? Will you tell me so that I might do all in my power to unburden you?”

  His voice was quiet and no longer held any hint of teasing. “I received a letter from Nadine.”

  “She is unwell?”

  “She’s been having pains. Feels as though the baby is trying to come.”

  An uncomfortable pressure seized my chest. “But it’s too early.” Her time wasn’t supposed to be for another two months.

  “Yes.”

  I cast my eyes about the heavens, as if those stars I had entreated really would answer my plea. “How long has she been feeling them?”

  “For two days before she sent the letter.”

  “But if they continued—”

  “I know.”

  My heart sank, and I could no longer stand at the balustrade, apart from him. I walked along it, careful to appear as though I were wandering, skimming my hand along the stone until I left the shaft of light and was far enough into the shadows that I felt safe turning toward him. He was there before me, closer than he had been before. His face was a mask of concern. “Oh, West. I’m sorry.” I stepped forward to wrap him in my arms, and his own banded around my waist.

  “I think it’s more difficult to watch others suffer than it is to suffer myself.”

  His selfless statement wasn’t a surprise. “What can be done?”

  I felt him shake his head. “I’ll simply have to wait to hear. Hopefully she’ll send word. If she’s feeling well enough…”

  “Perhaps you could write to your parents. Ask them what is happening.”

  He drew back, taking my hands in his vice grip. “She’s lost a
child this way before. It was her very first. She and Trenton worried that she would be unable to bear any children, but then Nora came, and Daxon and Junie. They didn’t give her any troubles, but now this one. It’s so much like the first. I can tell that she is terrified.”

  I ran my fingers along his temple and into his hair. “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”

  He looked down, his brow furrowing as he struggled through his own thoughts. “I knew when I set my sights on being one of the king’s knights that children might not be in my future. I had resigned myself to being the heroic uncle. By the time I gave up any thoughts of advancing to a position with the king, I was already so smitten by my nieces and nephew that…I suppose I’ve come to rely too much on the inevitability of having more to dote on.”

  “Perhaps the baby will not be lost. Perhaps Nadine will recover with sufficient rest.”

  “That is my hope.” He managed a smile and kissed my knuckles. “I shall try to be optimistic.”

  He changed the subject and I let him. I knew his worries were larger than he admitted. It wasn’t only the baby he worried for. Such a complication could be dangerous for Nadine as well. But there was no need for me to mention such thoughts. Instead he told me of his friendship with Trenton before his sister had stolen him away and married him.

  As he told me of their boyhood exploits, I was relieved to see his natural cheer return by the time I felt I could no longer linger on the veranda and bid him a reluctant farewell.

  ✼ ✼ ✼

  Over the next week, West and I were far more careful, more discreet. I only snuck into the garden a couple of times for early morning wanderings, and we were sure to never interact while at the villa.

  I made steady progress on several paintings, amazed at the depth that emerged as I took the time to employ not only careful technique, but to pay extra attention to the mood I wished to convey.

  Master Sterrino seemed to approve, but was also quick to point out any flaws that needed to be corrected. I happily complied, usually able to recognize the wisdom of his suggestions. And even if I didn’t, I trusted him enough to do it anyway.