Draw Me A Picture (22 page)

“I think this will prove him wrong, again...” she said, biting her bottom lip. She dressed quickly; looking in the mirror, she thought the shirt and gray jacket were a little low cut but it did look classic and stylish. The A-line skirt reached down almost to her ankles. Digging in her pack, Michelle found some thick gray tights and put them on, along with her dainty, brown boots. She’d brought a simple garnet-red scarf just for this outfit; winding it around her neck, she tucked the ends out of sight. Her hair she did in her usual way, down with the front pieces pinned neatly behind her ears. Not wanting to spend much more time, Michelle hastily put on mascara and lip gloss, leaving her makeup at that.

Surveying herself in the mirror, Michelle nodded.

“I don’t look ‘homeless’ in this,” she thought, smiling. Unable to put it off anymore, Michelle crept to the door, slowly turning the handle.

As soon as she opened the door she saw William; he was leaning on her door frame, apparently waiting for her to emerge.

“You’re all dressed,” he said, grinning at her.

“So are you,” Michelle returned, smiling back.

“It was so quiet in there, I thought you were asleep.” William said, not moving from the door. Michelle crossed her arms.

“I didn’t know if anyone else was up,” she replied; her smile broadened. “But, a good morning to you.”

William’s eyes took in Michelle’s appearance. The young woman looked very well; he silently took back everything negative he’d ever said about her clothes. She looked like a sweet debutante, fresh from Vassar.

“Good morning,” he returned; he lifted Michelle’s hand and kissed her warm, soft palm. Her skin smelled quite alluring; a slight grimace crossed his face.

“Are you OK?” Michelle asked, seeing his expression.

“Er... yes,” William said, giving Michelle a quick grin. “I’m glad you’re up early.” Michelle was not convinced but let it go; she took William’s arm and walked beside him down the hall. An idea occurred to her on the way down the stairs; she turned to William, with a smile.

“I have… a suggestion,” she said, her eyes bright with mischief. William beheld Michelle’s expression and raised an eyebrow.

“What have you in mind, minx?” he inquired, unable to stop smiling.

When Jean-Claude breezed into Margret’s kitchen some minutes later, he spied Michelle and William standing together by the stove. The young woman had an apron tied around her waist; she grated nutmeg into a pot as William stirred it.

“What is this?” the chef murmured, suppressing a smile. The two looked like a fetching couple, standing together and cooking. He let the door click shut behind him. At the sound, William turned and saw Jean-Claude approaching.

“It appears the lion has returned to its den, my dear,” he said to Michelle. The chef scoffed, crossing his arms.

“This is not my den, Mister Montgomery,” he said in broken English. “My kitchen takes up my entire house, with a little room for sleeping, eh?”Michelle gave the chef a smile.

“Bonjour, m’sieur,” she said, softly. Jean-Claude smiled back and took her hand, giving it a brief kiss.

“Cher mademoiselle,” he said, with obsequious flair. William hid his laugh in a cough; Michelle’s baffled expression was hilarious. Leaning between the two, Jean-Claude sniffed loudly over the pot; he grabbed a spoon and tasted the oatmeal, making discerning faces as if the thick liquid inside was lobster bisque. Behind the chef William rolled his eyes; Michelle saw it and stifled her giggle in a dishtowel.

“Bon,” the Frenchman said; he shut off the flame and sprinkled in a minuscule amount of salt.

The kitchen door opened again; Alfred ambled in, going directly towards the tea ‘station’. He and William exchanged greetings and Michelle smiled at the elderly valet. Jean-Claude grunted and began ladling the aromatic oatmeal into wide, wooden bowls. Michelle helped William set out place mats, napkins and silverware; early morning light streamed in the large windows onto the table and chairs. Michelle walked up to the windows, looking out onto the misty morning scene; she wanted to walk the estate groves more than eating, but held her piece. William saw her glancing wistfully out the window and smiled. He crept up behind her.

“You want out, don’t you?” he said, quietly in Michelle’s ear. She started and then smiled at him over her shoulder.  

“You’re sneaky,” she said, turning back to the view. “I do wish to walk outside a bit. It looks so beautiful out there.”

“Well...” William began. “I suppose I could be prevailed upon, under strong persuasion, to escort you on a walk after breakfast… though trekking about the brush is not my favorite pastime.” Not turning around, Michelle smiled at the window.

“You could always sit for another portrait,” she suggested, holding back a laugh. “I bet your mother would love one of you in a suit of armor...”

“Why, you little minx!” William whispered fiercely; he glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. “That’s blackmail...” Michelle looked at him over her shoulder, biting her lip.

“You said
strong
persuasion,” she told him, unable to keep the glee from her voice.
 

CALM AND clear, the chilly Vermont air surrounded the two pedestrians. William glanced down at Michelle as she strolled beside him, her hand snugly in his. The trees and fall colors enthralled her, evidenced by the expression on her face, but William noted Michelle’s natural serenity seemed to temper it. She enjoyed things with a happy, quiet demeanor, a feature of character William admired very much; he detested chatty people.

“Still,”
he thought, smirking,
“It is so much fun to tease her.”
 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” William asked his companion. Michelle looked up at him, smiling.

“Is that a trick question?” she answered; her eyes sparkled with fun. William returned her merriment in his own gaze.

“You are never boring to talk to,” he said, earnestly. “You don’t know how glad I am to have met you.” Michelle dipped her head shyly and smiled.

“The feeling is mutual, William,” she said, glancing back up at him. Ahead, William saw the ‘lake’, as his mother affectionately referred to it; it was really nothing more than a large pond; it teemed with wild birds in the warmer months.

“There’s a pretty spot here through these trees,” William said, pointing towards the water. “Shall we hike over to it?”

Michelle looked up at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Hike? Um... this is fairly flat ground; ever been to the Rockies?” she inquired, sweetly. William snorted.

“Oh, come on,” he said, pulling her towards the pond grove. Smiling, Michelle followed along with him; they wound their way through a thick area of slender aspen tree trunks; the yellow, dried leaves carpeted the ground in thick layers. After a minute, they stood on the shores of the pond. Beholding the scene, Michelle’s smile spread from ear to ear.

“How lovely...” she said, clapping her hands. Indeed it was; the slim white aspen trunks all around the water made a striking picture against the flaming red maple leaves behind. The water cast red reflections all over its gently moving surface, here and there dotted with a floating leaf. Michelle felt herself enveloped in a warm embrace and looked up at William.

“There it is,” he said, looking down at her affectionately. “I was wondering when your sweet, excited look was going to break through.” Michelle blushed.

“Oh, so that’s why you were giving me the ‘sideways scrutiny’,” she said, stepping a little away from him. “Here I thought you were just checking me out.” William grinned.

“Well, that too. Hang on... ‘sideways scrutiny’?” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “Where do you come up with these phrases? Do you lay awake thinking them up or do you spend all your spare time in comedy clubs?”

“Spare time? Pfft...” Michelle said, crossing her arms defensively. “Spending over two years drawing people on a Manhattan corner would give even you a sharp sense of humor.” She looked pointedly at William; there was a slight challenge in her voice. He grinned back at her.

“Now see here,” he said, stepping closer. “... the English have a fine sense of humor. You’re asking to be tossed into the leaves and tickled mercilessly.”

“Oh sure, avoid the subject by directing your vague national rhetoric my way… followed by the inevitable empty threat...” Michelle said the phrase quickly, with a huge smile. Inwardly, she prepared to run.

“Vague... rhetoric... what?!” William sputtered, momentarily stunned by the young woman's response. He was surprised again when she took off running… and laughing. It took him a full two seconds to dart after her, his face that of a schoolboy chasing a girl across the playground.

Just about to enter the mudroom, Margaret heard someone enter the room from the outside; more like bursting in, accompanied by panting and laughter. Opening the door somewhat cautiously Margaret smiled as she saw Michelle sitting on a bench. The young woman held her sides, trying to catch her breath. The elderly lady smiled affectionately at her guest; she looked quite transformed all rosy with exercise and her eyes bright with fun.

“Well, my dear,” Margaret said, coming fully into the room. “I would ask if you are alright but I can see you are. William is on your heels, I assume?” Michelle nodded, still trying to breathe.

At that moment William burst through the door. Not expecting to see his mother standing there, he started, lost his footing on the loose rug and slid into the wall, landing on his rear in a rather undignified manner. Pointing, Michelle laughed so hard she nearly fell off the bench. Hiding a smile in her hand, Margaret faked a cough.

“Are you alright, my boy?” she asked, her face twisting a little. At her side, Michelle was desperately trying not to hyperventilate. William looked so embarrassed. She covered her mouth with her gloves and tried to stop laughing.

Disentangling himself from the throw rug, William stood up with a red face.

“I’m fine,” he said. “We were... ah... racing.”

“Indeed?” Margaret said with a perfectly serious expression. “Who won?” Michelle threw up her hand, still unable to speak.

“More like who started it...” William grumbled brushing leaves off his shoulder.

“Well,” Margaret said, going back to the door. “If you both have had enough sport, I hope you will a company me into town. There are some people at the gallery I’d really like Michelle to meet. The car will be out in front in about ten minutes, I should think.”

With this Margaret walked out, closing the door behind her. She made it into the pantry before sinking down onto a crate and laughing until she cried. All the rest of her days, Margaret never forgot the sight of her very proper son slipping across the floor, ending up on his posterior. Jean-Claude opened the pantry door to find her still giggling a minute later; he soon heard the whole story.

Michelle wanted to escape out the door as well, but was too winded to immediately flee the scene. Feeling unbearably warm she undid her top few buttons of her coat and took off her hat. Warily, she met William’s gaze as he leaned back against the mudroom cabinets. The intense look in his eyes made her skin warm up even more.

“You think you're clever, don't you?” he asked in a low voice. Still trying to breathe normally, Michelle gave him a quick smile.

“Your face... priceless,” she managed to say. An amused exhilaration showed in her eyes, making them shine like stars.

“So was your answer, sweetheart,” William returned. Then he smirked at her; Michelle’s eyes grew wide. William never smirked; her smile faded. Pushing off the wall, William walked over to where Michelle sat. He towered over her, his eye glinting with something sexy and dangerous. At least, Michelle assumed it was a dangerous/sexy glint; she’s never seen such a look in his eyes before. Never mind the tingles up her back and arms it created. Bending down, William sat down next to Michelle on the bench; his eyes never left her face. Snaking an arm around her waist, William drew her close to him and leaned down until his lips hovered right above her ear.

“Do you honestly think you’re going to get away with that?” he whispered; his warm breath flitted across Michelle’s ear. Her lips parted to let in more air; she was finding it difficult to concentrate on answering him. Suddenly, the warm air on her ear was joined by William’s equally warm lips.

Closing her eyes Michelle bit her bottom lip and stayed in his arms, unresisting.

“We should go,” William said, drawing back from his girl, grinning from ear to ear. “I believe Mother will come looking for us in a minute.” Michelle opened her eyes and looked at the floor, her hand over one ear.

“If that was your idea of a punishment, you’re terrible at it,” she said, quietly. She glanced up at him with a secretive little smile. Reaching down, William grasped Michelle’s hands and drew her up to him.

“I'll deal with you later,” he said, a strange gleam in his eye. Michelle half expected him to kiss her but he did not. Instead, William led her out to his mother’s white Rolls Royce waiting in the drive and helped her inside. Already seated in the car, Margaret noted Michelle’s deeply flushed face and William confident grin. She smiled and beckoned to them both.

During the ride, Michelle looked out the window while Margaret rattled off little bits of information about each house they passed. An actor lived there, Congressman so and so and his family lived there, a famous Russian pianist had a studio up the road. Michelle smiled and tried to listen, but was still fluttering inside from William’s suggestive behavior. At the most unexpected moments, he seemed to throw on a kind of predatory mantle; she could almost imagine him giving a Tarzan yell and swinging off on a vine, or something similar. Suppressing a giggle, Michelle snuck a glance at William. He leaned against the seat across from her, his hat tilted down over his eyes; he appeared to be napping but the smile on his face was anything but sleepy. It spoke of shrewdness, as if he could read her mind.

As if to confirm her suspicions the hat rose slightly and the man gave her a wink before retreating once more beneath the brim. There was something about William that Michelle could not fully comprehend. It pushed Michelle’s curious button, a device all women possess; somehow, she knew that if William and her ever had something lasting and serious, she would never be bored. The thought comforted and calmed her, even to the point of listening to Margaret all the way into town.