Loving Grace Read Online Free PDF Page B

to move along with the groups, pausing in front of framed
paintings. The large ones lined the walls while smaller works hung
on square columns, which divided the room into three sections. She
was aware of discreetly placed red and black leather benches, of
marble floors and a couple of armed guards standing near some
palms.
    She sweated for ten minutes, until the drink
took effect, long enough for her to calm down. Grace paused before
a painting dubbed Lily, and couldn’t help but admire the redhead
lying on her stomach amid a mound of her namesake flowers. Her body
was long, sleek, and the skin tone was like warm cream. The woman’s
hair fanned out with lilies laying on it, and from the slope of her
spine to the curve of her backside, was overlaid in flowers, until
it really did force the viewer to notice subtle things. Grace
observed the contrast first, of skin and flowers, and the colors,
but eventually she began to feel the utter peace, the naturalness
of the combination.
    Standing by a painting called Fern, she was
completely enthralled and more than awed. The woman was standing in
a grotto of lush green foliage, her body providing the surface for
the shade of the huge ferns. Short, slicked-back hair, a Madonna
face, and startling emerald eyes... Grace could feel the coolness,
the tranquil setting, smell the vegetation, and honestly sense the
connection between the woman and the surroundings.
    “Quite remarkable. Isn’t it?”
    Grace jumped slightly, being so absorbed by
the painting, and she hadn’t noticed the woman come up to her.
    “Yes.” The trim figure ensconced in blue silk
standing next to her was maybe about fifty and had fashionable
silver hair and a charming southern accent. “It’s
extraordinary.”
    The woman nodded, fingering her pearl
necklace and considered the painting. She looked at Grace. “Have
you seen The Storm yet? It’s by far my favorite.”
    “No.”
    “Down there at the end.”
    “Thank you.” Grace smiled and left her to
move on, not really wishing to by-pass the others so quickly, but
too curious since the painting had a name outside the flora and
fauna.
    It was a massive painting, dark and brooding
at first glance. However, as Grace stood and eyed the dark sky and
angry clouds, the almost black grasses in the open field, she
focused on the ghostly image in the center...a woman obviously, but
nearly transparent. One had to look closely to see the wispy
garment blowing back from a nude form, and to make out the female
shape and haunting face. Yes, she could see why it drew such a
crowd and the one still standing around her and murmuring in awe.
It was not gothic so much as otherworldly, hard to pinpoint as real
or imagined. The woman’s face was not as beautiful as the others
were, but definitely more compelling.
    The crowd grew so thick that Grace turned
reluctantly away, and made her way to the back, realizing she’d not
get another up close view. The music just registered in her brain,
atmospheric, something between Celtic and classical; again surreal.
She made her way around a column that was lit from the inside, and
stood a moment admiring a piece of sculpture also inside the
column.
    “Crystal.”
    Grace felt her heart drop to her feet. She
wet her lips and said to Noel Hawthorn, without turning around or
taking her eyes of the art, “Beautiful, as is everything I’ve seen
thus far.”
    “Thank you.”
    She knew that was her cue to look at him.
Part of her dreaded it. Her knees weren’t steady as she stepped
back and did so, having to look up from her five-five height and
still mentally catching her breath when her eyes met his.
    “I’m no expert.” She attempted a smile and
realized her face was tense with nervousness. “Other than the
Smithsonian, I don’t usually go to galleries or shows.”
    His jet brow arched and those beautiful lips
curved. “I’m doubly flattered. What exactly drew you here, if you
don’t mind my asking?”
    She lied, too easily.