Fair Maiden Read Online Free PDF

above. Before those were completely finished he added the
outline of her eyes, then her lips. And she realized he was just finding the
proper positions before he started with the details.
    After another glance in her direction, he said, “You’re
holding very still for an…”
    “Apparition?” she supplied.
    “Although you do tend to bob a bit.”
    She laughed.
    “I’m sorry, that was very rude of me. However, I do love the
sound of your laugh.”
    “Really? What does it sound like?”
    He kept moving his pencil over the paper, and taking peeks
at different parts of her features as he spoke. “It sounds like,” he paused a
moment, “musical rain.”
    Her brows lowered as she tried to imagine that.
    “Or like instruments on the wind.”
    “Are you a poet, too?” she asked.
    He chuckled. “That, I am not,” he said, as he used his pinky
to smudge the charcoal, her image becoming clearer on the paper. She thought
him talented, and quick.
    When he finished, he held it up for her to see. “Will this
do?”
    “Oh, ’tis wonderful!” she gasped.
     
    After a few days, Christian returned.
    Unwilling to wait to speak with him, she entered his drawing
room through a wall. From the look on his face, she knew she’d startled him
with that, but when he noticed ‘twas her, his face brightened with a smile that
stole her heart.
    “You’re back.”
    “I am, and I’m finished with my research for now.”
    His sad expression made it clear. “You found nothing.”
    “I’m terribly sorry. I so wanted to address you by your
proper name.”
    She sighed. “I wanted that, too. But I do want to thank you
for taking the time.”
    “It was my pleasure, truly, my little nonexistent girl.”
    “Or peasant girl.”
    His face did not hide the fact that he’d wondered the same,
though instead he said, “You could be highborn, that dress is too fine to
belong to a commoner.”
    “What if it was borrowed?”
    “What if it wasn’t?”
    “What if the groom paid for it?”
    “Let’s not talk about him ,” he growled.
    A thrill went through her at the thought that he may be
jealous of her previous fiancé, then that thought unhappily slid away when she
remembered she and Lord Christian Sparks could never be.
    As neither of them spoke for a few moments, her gaze drifted
from painting to painting before dropping to the chess set displayed upon a
round table situated just left of the window. She descended into one of the
soft-looking chairs next to it, and outstretched her hand over the ivory chess
pieces, then slid one into the next square as if she were playing the game.
    The next time she looked up, she nearly jumped to see that
Christian sat in the chair directly across from her, smiling broadly, that
dimple as deep as ever. “Do you play?”
    “Well.” She tipped her head to the side and studied the
board. “I may have played this before, it seems familiar.”
    “Is that your first move?”
    Her eyes fell on the piece she’d moved to consider that,
then she nodded. “Yes.”
    “Then you must have played before, because that is the move
I would have made.”
    “Truly?”
    “Yes. Now I’ll have to be more creative,” he said with a
playful grin.
    As they progressed through the game, she asked, “Did you do
the paintings in this chamber?”
    “Yes.”
    “They’re lovely.”
    “Thank you, but I’m going to replace one of them.”
    “You are?”
    “I just got another one framed while I was in London. I need somewhere to hang it.”
    “May I see?”
    His dimple deepened again. “I’ll fetch it.” He rose from his
chair, strode to a brown package leaning against the wall and began tearing at
the paper.
    When he displayed it for her, she gasped. “You had it
framed?”
    “Of course.”
    “But—”
    He ignored her sputtering protest to admire his work, then
added, “I do wish I’d been able to capture how you shimmer in the candlelight.
Did you know that?”
    “Are you certain you’re not a