Ellie pictured herself with a nameless, faceless man in her bed and felt ill. But then the image shifted, reminding her of the lurid dream of the night before, when Henry’s head had dipped between her spread thighs. When she woke, trembling and gasping for breath, his scent still lingered in the air, her body warmed by his.
“Then you must help him along. You trust Henry, don’t you?”
“Of course.” She trusted no one in the world as she did Henry.
“Then tell him what you want.”
Ellie pursed her lips and exhaled. “I can’t be sure what it is I want.”
Alice bit her lower lip and took Ellie’s hands, squeezing them gently. “Miles and I have a wonderful intimate life.” She chuckled at what must have been a shocked expression on Ellie’s face. “But we did not start that way. I had to instruct him on how to bring me pleasure, and he taught me quite a bit as well. It’s obvious Henry cares for you deeply and wants to make you happy.”
Ellie let out a nervous titter. The mere idea of being intimate with Henry, discovering what would make her body hum and sing, made her feel giddy and excited.
But it was impossible. He had never, not even once, shown an inkling of interest in her beyond their friendship. He would be horrified, even disgusted, if she were to suggest anything of the sort.
If she only had a clue Henry felt something for her, that he saw her as a woman and not only a friend, then she could suggest it. But until she knew, she wouldn’t risk destroying the friendship they shared.
“I think it would be too much,” Ellie said with finality. “What if I asked him to… experiment, and he refused?”
Alice laughed aloud, drawing scandalized glances from the gallery’s few patrons as they passed. “No man haseverrefused an offer like that.”
The idea took root in her mind. What if… Would it be possible?
“Trust me, Eleanor.” Alice linked her arm through Ellie’s elbow as they turned into the main gallery. “How can you possibly know what you enjoy unless you try?”
“I’m already underwhelmed,” Henry remarked as his eyes passed over the facade of the Chiesa di Sant’Ignazio. He held his sketchbook tight to his chest, unwilling to let it out of his sight. It would be a disaster if Ellie saw the last page, the sketch he had completed in the gardens after finally telling Miles to sod off. He couldn’t get Ellie out of his mind, attempting to capture her accurately on paper. And the images he created were, well… not appropriate for a religious setting.
“Never judge a church by its cover, particularly in Rome,” Ellie retorted, striding towards the wooden door flanked by twin columns. Alice and Miles had declined her invitation to join them at the iconic site.He caught Alice giving Ellie a lascivious wink and encouraging her to “go experiment” before Ellie turned crimson. “The frescoed ceiling is one of the most outstanding examples of trompe l’oeil in Italy.”
“Remind me.” He hesitated as he passed through the thresholdof the building. The chilled hush native to a sacred space washed over them both. “I must have missed Eggleston’s lecture that week.”
Ellie gave him an exasperated glance before dropping a few coins in the goodwill offering plate and entering the central aisle of the church, rows of pews spreading out on either side. When she reached the midway point, she pointed towards the ceiling.
Henry craned his neck to take in the massive gold cupola soaring above them. “That’s funny. I didn’t notice the dome from the outside.” Something of that scale would have been visible from at least a kilometer away and would have drawn his eye.
“That’s because it’s not really there,” Ellie replied, her mouth turned up in a sly smile. “Come over here.” She glanced at her guidebook, then gestured towards the side aisle. They slipped through the empty pews until reaching the furthest point from the center. “Quadratura, or forced perspective. You can see the ceiling is flat, but Andrea Pozzo, the artist, painted the frescoes so it would appear to be domed and just as elaborate as St. Peter’s.”
“That’s remarkable.” He walked back to the center and strolled up and down the aisle. He heard Ellie’s footsteps approach from behind. “But you have to be in the right place for it to be visible perfectly.”
She nodded and looked around at her feet for a moment before pointing towards a marble disk inlaid in the floor. “Here—” She motioned for him to come towards her. “This is the exact point of perspective for the viewer.”
Henry moved over to the disk, removed his hat, and laid down on his back.
“What are you doing?” Ellie asked with an incredulous laugh.
“I’ll get a crick in my neck if I keep looking at it that way,” he said. “Join me?”
Ellie heaved a sigh and dropped to his side. They lay in silence for several long moments, taking in the evidence of genius above them.
“Why would the artist would want to paint something like this and fool everyone looking at it?”
“It’s a display of Pozzo’s skill, and it creates the appearance of a dome without the expense.” She sighed. “I suppose when people expect to see something, they will overlook clues indicating otherwise. We believe the illusion more easily than the truth, especially if the truth makes us feel foolish.”
Henry shifted slightly, his hand brushing against Ellie’s. It had not been intentional, but the contact sent electricity through his arm. He heard her breath catch, but she made no move to pull away.
His words came slowly, his voice soft. “What if people believe the illusion for so long it becomes the reality?” His fingers flexed and interlaced with hers.
Ellie swallowed audibly. “It takes a good deal of courage to ignore what people think and confront the truth.”
