Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Jane gasped and stepped back nervously, realizing a moment later that she had nowhere to go and now had her back quite literally against a wall.
From where she stood, she could not see his face clearly, which made him look even more intimidating than usual and she was worried that he might be furious that she had entered a private room without permission.
“I'm sorry... I was looking for my room after putting Reuben to sleep and I got lost. I only intended to find someone to help me, but I found this room instead. I did not mean to intrude.” She explained nervously, bowing her head.
The air was silent for a moment, then he said,
“Oh. I see.”
But... his voice was not angry, merely intrigued.
“I thought perhaps you came in to... do you like art?”
The question caught her off guard, but she nodded slowly.
“Y-Yes. I do. I think these are quire remarkable.”
Thomas scoffed, glancing around as he walked in and shut the door behind him.
“Hardly. This room is mine. I made every one of these pieces.”
Jane felt her mouth fall open in shock and she blinked rapidly, willing herself ton come to her senses and ask the question on her mind.
“You made these? A-All of them?”
Thomas nodded, settling on the stool before the easel, his eyes firmly fixed on her as he explained,
“Every single one. It is just a hobby of mine, a way to pass the time. I do not particularly have any talent, so I am not very good at it. But I find it relaxing, so I come here whenever I can and a paint a new piece.”
Jane turned back to the painting on the wall, noticing that it was a remarkable depiction of a stormy sea. Despite what the duke had said, his works were rather breathtaking, and Jane was captivated as she admired them, silently walking around the room.
When she turned back to compliment him, she found him watching her intently, and she was overcome with shyness, helpless against the familiar rise of heat in her cheeks.
“Stop that,” she mumbled, looking away.
“Stop what? What do you mean?” she heard him ask, his voice bearing the tiniest inflection of confusion.
“You are always staring at me,” Jane whined, pressing her hands to her face in an effort to conceal herself somehow as she turned back to him.
“At first I thought it was because I reminded you of your late wife, but you said you no longer saw the resemblance between us. So, I do not understand why you keep... it makes me nervous. Please... stop.”
“Ah,” he sighed deeply. “I did not realize it bothered you. I find your face intriguing and from the moment I set my eyes on you, I thought I would like to paint a portrait of you.”
Jane stared at him in surprise, not expecting such a candid admission. “Oh... is that so?”
Thomas nodded and not for the first time that day, Jane was struck by how similar he was to Reuben. Perhaps without realizing it, Thomas had taught his son all of his personal traits.
“I really would like to do so. Would you be willing to model for me? If only for a little bit?” he requested earnestly.
Jane found herself nodding slowly, speaking as he beckoned her closer.
“I do not mind, as long as I do not have to stay still. I'm not very good at... keeping still.”
She walked towards him and sat in the chaise that he pointed her too, surprised to find a smirk on his face when she looked back at him.
“I have noticed, duchess. You fidget quite a bit,” he said, his voice teasing and light.
That is because you always stare at me, Jane said to herself, unable to admit as much out loud, no matter how she wished that she could.
Thomas stared at her for a moment, then he suggested,
“Relax, duchess. It is not a formal wedding portrait. I hope that this would be enjoyable for us both.”
Jane looked down at her form and realized that she was seated stiffly and upright, as though she was indeed posing for a formal portrait of some sort.
After a moment’s thought, she brought her legs up to the cushions of the chaise and leaned her elbow against the arm of it.
When she looked back at him, Thomas nodded from where he stood, adjusting his easel so the back of it faced her.
“Better. But still...”
He left the easel and walked to her, gently adjusting her arm so she was comfortably resting against the chaise, taking the other to rest on the curve of her hip.
Lastly he gently curved his fingers around her chin, tilting it upward slightly.
She peered up at him through her lashes, meeting his ever-steady gaze.
His touch was warm, and her skin longed for more. And the way he held her, the way his focus never strayed from her made her feel as though she could ask. As though all she needed to do was... whisper what she wanted and he would oblige her.
Jane inhaled shakily, pulling her lower lip between her teeth and she could swear that his eyes followed the small movement, could practically taste how entranced he was.
And she nearly, very nearly leaned closer to claim more of the weight between them.
After a few seconds of silence, he cleared his throat and returned back to his easel.
“Stay as still as possible. Try not to be too aware of your body, or you’ll become sore much sooner. Relax.” He instructed as he picked up a paint brush.
It was strange, how willing she had been to be the subject of his art, to volunteer to be beneath his gaze. She did not mind it as much now, although it still had the same effect on her.
Jane tried not to focus so much on herself — especially not the heat on her face — instead watching him as he studied her.
The way he glanced between her and the canvas showed just how used he was to the routine of studying and painting. His brush moved along the canvas in swift strokes, and he pursed his lips every time he had to ponder before he used a different color.
The silence that had fallen upon them had been comfortable at first, but eventually it grew heavy and Jane could feel herself becoming antsy.
“Have you ever asked anyone else to do this for you? Model for your paintings?” she asked suddenly.
“No,” Thomas replied simply.
The curt way he responded made her feel otherwise was the case.
“Is that so? Not even your late wife?”
Thomas’s face hardened and his hand stopped moving for a bit.
“Especially not her,” he said as he continued to paint.
His reaction made her even more curious. Clearing her throat, she said.
“Did you two not get along?”
“We did not.”
“Why?” she queried, tilting her head slightly.
He shrugged. “We simply did not.”
“You had a child together and you were married for three years. Surely you both had some sort of connection.” She pushed further.
Thomas’s gaze snapped to her face sharply and he exhaled, long and deep.
“There was no sort of connection between us. Certainly nothing like what you imagine. We never had any sort of romantic entanglement. We were a bad match from the start and she abhorred my looks and quiet nature. And I only discovered how she really felt about me when it was too late to annul the marriage. So… no. Truthfully, I had no interest in paining her as well. She never modeled for me. She never made any sort of effort to know me or care about my interests. So, I doubt she would have entertained my request, even if I had been brazen enough to ask.” He said briskly.
Then he stared at her for a moment and sighed again.
“You moved.” He told her pointedly.
Jane looked down at her form and shook her head.
“I did not.”
He shook his head slightly as he rose to his feet, walking to where she was seated. He leaned down to adjust her hands back to their previous positions and she couldn’t help but notice how close he was.
The little distance between them made it impossible for her not to realize that Reuben had had his father’s dark brown hair that reminded her of chestnuts. She felt a strange sense of relief flood her veins over the fact that Reuben might look more like his father than his mother.
Especially because it was clear Reuben was a charming looking boy because his father was quite attractive as well. Jane had always been too nervous to stare directly at his face but at this distance, she couldn’t look elsewhere.
She did not want to.
Thomas leaned closer and brought his hands up to her face and her lips parted,
“I do not understand what she was thinking. I find you quite handsome.”
Thomas stared down at her in surprise and it dawned on her that she had spoken her thoughts aloud.
“W-Wait, I didn’t —” she tried to explain but was cut off by the press of his lips on hers.
Almost immediately, she went limp in his grasp, whining as his mouth moved against hers insistently and molten heat leaked down her chest.
She inhaled deeply through her nose as she kissed him back as hard as she could, already dizzy from the warmth of his hands on her face and his scent. She wanted more, needed more. But as she raised her hand to grip his shirt and pull him closer, he leaned back, breaking the kiss.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — you look quite lovely, when you blush. I only wished to bring it back after it had faded.” He mumbled.
Jane blinked as her cheeks grew warm again.
“D-Do not worry. It was only a kiss after all,” she huffed with an air of indifference.
Thomas narrowed his eyes at her.
“I see. Of course. It was just that… a simple kiss,” he murmured, dropping one of these hands while the other slid from her face to the back of her neck.
Jane shivered, her spine straightening slightly on instinct. The corner of his lip twitched and Jane fought the urge to dwell on it, willing herself not to react. He continued to adjust her posture and she had managed to stay strong.
That was until he rested a hand on her thigh and she gasped. This time he smirked, moving his hand from her thigh to the hand resting on it and moving slightly from its previous position. Then he returned to his easel and resumed his painting, as though nothing had happened.
Jane felt embarrassment threaten to smother her at her reaction, wishing she could melt right where she sat.
What on earth was happening to her body?
After a while, Thomas set down his paint brush and announced.
“That’s enough for today. I can fill in what’s left by myself.”
“Oh,” Jane sat up, feeling her body sing with exhaustion. “I wish I could say that I had a nice time, but my whole body feels incredibly stiff. I do not know how other people do this.”
“They are trained to do so. This was your first time. I must commend you on your efforts. You did quite well.” He commented casually.
Jane beamed as she rose to her feet and walked towards him.
“Thank you. Can I see it?”
Thomas held a hand out to her, stopping her in her tracks.
“Maybe some other time. I do not like people viewing my unfinished works,” he informed as he rose to his feet as well, wiping his hands with a rag stained with paint. “Come, I will take you to your room.”
Jane nodded, stepping aside so he could lead her out of the room. The house was completely silent as they walked down the corridors and she couldn’t help but hope Reuben was having good dreams.
It seemed Thomas shared a similar train of thought with her, because after a minute or so, he asked,
“How is Reuben? Was he well behaved with you?”
Jane nodded, keeping her gaze ahead of her.
“Quite. He seems like quite a lovely child. Very well behaved and obedient. He did not say a word to me, but he seemed to understand everything I said. Which I believe tells me that you have a good child. If only a tad hungry for affection. He seems to crave closeness, which I find adorable. But it also makes me worry that…”
She fell silent and he urged softly, “That what? Is something wrong?”
Jane shook her head. “No. Nothing is wrong. With any luck, it is all in the past. I must confess… I am rather taken with him already. He is such a sweet child.”
Thomas nodded. “I am glad you think so. I will leave him in your capable hands.”
“I will do my best to continue to care for him. As much as a I can.” Jane promised, meaning every word.
Thomas came to a stop in front of a door, and pointed to it,
“Your chambers, duchess.”
Jane curtsied gracefully. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Stop that.”
She blinked at him, confused.
“I do not understand… have I done something wrong?” She questioned, startled by his tone.
“No,” he shook his head. “Not wrong, per se. It’s … strange. Having you address me so formally. Although our marriage might serve a purpose, you are still my wife and equal. At least by title and in the eyes of God. You can call me by my name.”
Jane swallowed with a nod.
“I understand… Thomas. Have a good night.”
He nodded and she quickly entered her room, exhaling deeply once the door was closed behind her.
She got ready for bed as swiftly as she could, eager to rest her exhausted body. But as she crawled under her covers, her mind returned to the kiss they shared and she groaned into her pillow.
“It was just a kiss. It doesn’t matter. Right?”