Averill: Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 3) (26 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Antonio? Is it possible that you’d assist me in transferring funds to...a bank that the Lady Brighten wouldn’t know about?”

He lifted an eyebrow further, but didn’t reply fo
r so long Averill regretted speaking. There wasn’t one bit of life in the new painting. It was a good thing she’d already repaired the other. It was going to be her salvation. He finally answered, but it was in a cool, reserved tone.

“
My family’s fortune comes from a long line of bankers. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Why do you not ask the
comte
?”

Averill stepped back from the mess of color she’d attempted for
a background before she answered. “I don’t trust him,” she said quietly.

“You don’t trust your own patron, either, do you?”

“No.”

“You’re not a very trusting person, are you?”

“Not anymore,” she replied.

“Then, why do you trust me?”

“This painting is getting us nowhere, Antonio.”

“
Are you failing again? It isn’t my fault. I’ve tried to hold still. I’ve done all that’s required.”

“It was never your fault, Antonio
. It was mine.”

He left off the indolent pose against the
window frame and turned his attention fully on her.

“
I thought you are a poor, destitute painter, while I am a rich woman’s grandson who has insulted you. You told me so yourself. I fail to see what you speak of.”

“I have...something for you, Antonio
. I’ll be right back.” 

Averill
raced to her suite before she lost her nerve. She wasn’t good with words, but her work spoke for her. And right now, that’s what she needed. She returned with the cat picture, forced herself to walk to where he stood, and handed it to him. Then, she stepped back.

Averill gloried in every emotion crossing his face
. She wondered why she’d been so hesitant about showing it to him. The instant widening of his almond-shaped eyes, the slight whistle from his perfectly formed lips, and the way he pushed the hair from his forehead to stare at her were everything she’d seen missing in him lately.

“This...this is how you see me
? Truly?”  His voice was choked, making him sound even younger.

“It’s an apology, Antonio.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re too much man for me to consider
. I…wasn’t insulted by you. I’m afraid of you. And, unlike you, I am not good with words.”

“This
is
how you see me.”

She shrugged
. “Perhaps.”

“Marry me, Averill
. Marry me, and I’ll show you there is nothing to be so frightened over.”

Her mouth fell open, her scalp tingled, and Tenny’s child kicked so fiercely that
she gasped. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

“You don’t...know what you ask, Antonio.”

“Is it such a difficult question?”

“I
—yes. Yes, it is.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a wealthy member of Lombardy-Venetian aristocracy. You are probably betrothed. You have an expected future. You have a grandmamma who adores you. You have been raised from birth to take your place alongside them. I’m nothing, but a—”

“And you have too many arguments.”

He set the painting against the window frame and approached. Silently. Inexorably. Looking exactly like his painted image. Averill backed until the wall stopped her. She hadn’t realized he was this tall, either. Or this overpowering. Mainly because she’d tried to stay away from him. His chin grazed her head as he put his hands on the wall beside her shoulders, penning her in. Breath touched her nose. The top of her lip.

“
This is no answer, Antonio.”  Her voice was breathless. Feminine.

“Marry me
. I’ll show you answers. I swear it.”

He definitely had his self-confidence back
. He had every bit of his sensuality, too. He lowered his head a fraction, scratching her forehead with whiskers she hadn’t known he possessed.

“I
…can’t! And you can’t ask!”

“Why not
? What is wrong with me that you won’t accept my suit?”

“There are so many reasons
. Please, don’t make me list them!”

“Are
you going to spout again about your position in life? And then mine? Are those are your reasons?”

“You can’t be asking me these things
. I shouldn’t have shown you the painting. This isn’t happening.” 

“We can elope,” he whispered at her nose
.

Oh, my
. Her knees even quivered. Averill knew better than to look up at him. She was terrified of it. “They’d stop us, Antonio. Surely you know that?”

“We wouldn’t have to face any recriminations until it was done.”

“No. No. You aren’t asking me to marry you. You aren’t.”

“
Very well. I won’t ask. I’ll try to convince you that it’s the only fate for us. We belong together. I’ve felt it since I met you, Averill Ben-Masiz. You know it.”

“But
…your grandmamma…”

Her voice ended
with an upward lilt. She sounded as if she were really entertaining the idea!

“Adores you.”

“Not as her granddaughter!”

“She hasn’t
been given that option yet. Trust me, Averill. We’ll make it work. It’s a new world, you know. Revolution is in the air. We chafe beneath the strictures of the Lombardy.”

“Antonio!”

“I’ve met others who believe as I do. I’m not alone. It won’t be long before it happens, we think. Trust me, Averill. I’m not the idle rich man you seem to think I am.”

And for a moment, she actually dropped her arguments and let herself
think it possible. The barest moment.
No
. She’d watched the
noblesse
. She wasn’t acceptable. And she knew it.

The sigh she gave carried every bit of her regret
. “You live in the blind faith of youth,” she told his neck.

“And you talk like an old woman.”

“It may feel like a new world, but it’s just colored differently. You haven’t lived as I have! You haven’t been an outcast. You haven’t sired children that it would happen to. I can’t consider what you offer. I just can’t!”

“Averill, look at me.”

She shook her head vehemently.

“But, I want you, Averill
. What of that? What would you have me do with this emotion now that I know it’s returned?”

Oh,
no!
That emotion wasn’t real. It was a fantasy. A dream. He needed to see it. And somehow she had to find the words to make it so. “Antonio. Please. You just want me because I’m forbidden fruit.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Every other woman you meet falls into your arms at the first look from your dark eyes.”

“It takes a bit more persuasion than that, I assure you.”

“I still can’t marry you. I can’t. And you need to move. It will soon be time for Lady Brighten to interrupt. You don’t wish her to witness this, do you?”

“Will it force your hand
? If so, I can think of…other positions she can find us in.”

Averill’s eyes widened, and her entire body
flushed. His slight chuckle wasn’t helpful, either. More breath brushed her lips. She felt him bend closer…to touch his lips to hers? And she very nearly allowed it. Because it solved so much.

She was being offered
marriage.
Marriage!
And with such a man! He was amazingly handsome. He would make a stunning husband…one she could paint at will, with or without his clothing
.

Oh my
!
That image was completely off-limits! Averill scrunched her eyes shut. It didn’t help. She forced her mouth to work. “It wouldn’t be allowed, Antonio. You know it as well as I do.”

“What could
anyone do? I can arrange an elopement. We’ll be wed before anyone knows. Say the word, and it can be done. I promise. I have contacts...”

His lips grazed her cheek
. Averill slid from around him and ran to the other side of the easel, putting it between them. He grinned at her escape, as though it was a game.

“It would be annulled, Antonio.”

“Not if we act fast. I can get you with child before anyone questions your absence. We may not even make it through the wedding ceremony.”

Sweet heaven, for the images that sentence conjured
! Averill slapped her hands to her cheeks to hold the reaction in. That wasn’t working, either. She had to look away. She’d known Antonio had too much sensual attraction. It was even more vivid when he turned it all toward her. She shook her head, denying the images and his advance. She knew he was coming, using his cat-like walk. She couldn’t even hear his footsteps.

“I can’t
. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“And I can’t believe you’re turning me down, with little more than platitudes of society rules
. Say something I’ll believe.”

“I don’t love you,” she
told him.

Antonio stopped on the other side of the easel and stared at her
. “You paint me as though you do.”

“
That isn’t love. That’s…desire.”  Averill’s voice dropped as she admitted it.

“
Very well, it’s desire. I can live with that. For now.”

Say yes, Averill
. Say yes!
What was wrong with her?

“I
love someone else,” Averill whispered.

“Who is this man
? The one that leaves you so alone? And vulnerable? Well? Tell me where he is so that I might challenge him! Well?”

“I...I left him, Antonio.”

“You left him. Why?”

“I wasn’t good enough,” she whispered
. “I harmed him by staying.”

“What harm
? This society nonsense you preach? He has no courage if he let you go.”

“Please, Antonio
? It’s a painful memory. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“You love him this much?”

She nodded.

“Then, go to him
. I will help. This man must know of your actions. You shouldn’t make his decision for him.”

“He...didn’t offer marriage.”

“And you toss it in my face when I do? I don’t understand. Are you crazed?”

Averill giggled
. She must be.

“How is the session going today, Averill
? I understand the
Dona
is getting a bit anxious about your progress. I’d hate to disappoint her.”

Lady Brighten’s voice preceded her into the studio
. Averill dropped her eyes to the splotched canvas she’d been working on. Antonio followed suit.

“We...we were just discussing that, Lady Brighten
. Weren’t we,
Don
Antonio?” 

Averill didn’t recognize her own voice as she spoke in the subservient tone she was using whenever her patron was near
. She knew it bothered Antonio. His hands were making fists at his side.

“Oh
, dear. You’re right. What has happened? Perhaps tomorrow’s session will go better?”

“I may not be available tomorrow, Lady Brighten.”

“Oh please don’t say that,
Don
Antonio. I know how much Averill looks forward to your sittings.”

That was a lie
. Averill suffered hunger-stealing nausea every morning because of Antonio’s upcoming sittings.

“This can’t go on much longer,” Antonio spoke in low tones.

“Let’s try again. I’m certain Averill can get it right. I’m certain tomorrow will go better.”

“I’ll not stay at your whim forever
. You realize this?”

He wasn’t speaking to Lady Brighten, although she answered
.

“
Of course we do. Don’t we, Averill? We’ll see you on the morrow then,
Don
Antonio?”

“Perhaps the day after
. I have business on the morrow. It has to do with a small banking matter. You understand?”

Averill met his gaze
and he winked. Just like that first time. And the same thing happened. She blushed and averted her eyes.

“Of course,
Don
Antonio, of course. It must be a trial to come here day after day for a busy man such as yourself. Averill will paint you when you can find time. Won’t you, Averill?”

“Of course,” she answered
.