Page 78 of A Secret In The Garden

I swallowed down the small bit of saliva in my suddenly dry mouth. I pulled my shirt back on over my head.

As we moved over toward the balcony doors, he paused. “Are you all right to be out there?” His eyes searched my face.

Needing the serious tone in the room to change, I gave him a wink. “Why? If I’m not, are you going to help me like last time?”

His face remained serious, completely humorless. I hated how he could look straight through me for the truth. “Eliza, do you feel comfortable going out on my balcony?”

I nodded. I had made a point of going out on my balcony a few times alone since he had taken me out on it yesterday, and each time, it somehow felt more freeing—though I had spent most of the day in the conservatory, hiding from him. I nervously toyed with the locket in my pocket, feeling the chain clink around against my fingertips.

“Good. Otherwise, we would have to paint nude portraits of each other, and I am certain my lack of skills would insult you by the end of the evening.” He pulled open the glass doors and stepped onto the large balcony.

“Whoa,” I breathed.

The sky had started to turn the lightest shade of orange. Unlike my room, which if you looked down over the edge, you could see the yard and conservatory, this view showed nothing but the other far-off cliffs and sky. It looked like a postcard or a screensaver, and suddenly, the architectural structure of the Gothic manor made all the sense in the world. The view was otherworldly—this view was why the manor had been built the way it was.

I sat in front of my canvas and suddenly felt so silly, like I had just put scrubs on and walked into a hospital pretending to be a surgeon. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve only ever painted in my field books,” I muttered, feeling like an impostor.

“Me either. I watched a few YouTube videos, though, so I’m probably going to be pretty good.” He smiled, confidently pouring a bottle of water into each of our paintbrush holders.

“How do you have all of this stuff?” I asked as I looked in amazement at the plethora of paintbrushes and acrylic paints on the small table between our seats.

He shrugged. “I grabbed it when I was out today. The ladies at the craft store told me what all to get.”

My expression fell for a moment—not from sadness, but from the shock at his words. I had no experience with this feeling and couldn’t find a facial expression fast enough that matched my delight and awe. This man had driven two hours into town to pick out all of this. For me.

Heaviness pulled at my chest. Under his callous, unapproachable exterior, he was one of the kindest, most thoughtful men ever to exist. His eyes were predatory as they watched me, but I knew there was softness behind them. He cared just as much about me as I cared about him. It was going to be so hard to leave this place and this man and move on. A wave of emotions hit me at the thought of leaving.

No doubt sensing that I was about thirty seconds away from bawling my eyes out, Jasper spoke again. “My actions aren’t entirely innocent; I plan on auctioning off that painting when you’re done with it,” he said, nodding at my empty canvas. “I have a feeling you’re a natural.”

I snorted, getting embarrassed. “I seriously doubt that.”

“Don’t do that,” he corrected. “Not with me. You left your notebook with all the little paintings in it open in the garden the other day, and I saw it. It’s obvious you love it,” he countered as he handed me a bright white oblong palette to put my paint on. I felt so official. “I also saw the chef bear you drew for Katya and Sowerby. I tried to sell that too, but Katya won’t budge.” He smiled playfully at me as he turned toward his own canvas and began confidently dipping his paintbrush in paint and then wiping it on the canvas as if he’d done this a thousand times. I knew he was starting first to make me feel less self-conscious, which was why I couldn’t stop staring at him. Just the fact that he knew enough about me to know to do that was baffling. He paid so much attention to my little, unsaid details, it was almost unnerving. And also, he looked absolutely adorable doing things. I was thrilled to be able to paint freely, but I could’ve enjoyed myself just as much had I only sat there and watched him.

We continued this way in comfortable silence. Occasionally, one of us would remark about the color we were using or joke about something like the names of the paint colors, but it was mostly just me talking as he let me get lost in the task. It was meditative. Every so often, one of us would adjust to acquire more paint, and our arms would brush lightly.

I lost myself to the canvas and the scene in front of me. I didn’t know what I was doing, but as soon as I started, it was as though another force took over for me. I was possessed. A wizard in complete control over which world my blank canvas saw. Each stroke of my brush became an exploration. There could be no mistakes in the painting because whatever it became was entirely me. My spirit bled in bright, sunset-hued colors, from my brush onto my painting as if a divine force had commanded it. So much of me went into it that I felt nothing might be left inside my body but a happy, sated soul when I was finished.

After an hour or so, I looked over to find Jasper no longer painting but turned in his chair, fixated on me, fascination filling his eyes, his own painting having been completely abandoned. I don’t think I could have pulled myself away from my ministrations for all the money in the world. As I whisked color onto the canvas, my anxieties faded away until it was only me and the remainder of the sunset that was now gone, and I was left working with the photo I had snapped on my phone.

It was as if my cage door had opened and I had been released after a lifetime locked inside. I could do anything. If I wanted the pinks to pop, I added more pink. No one could stop me if I wanted to add something completely from my imagination, like a glint of light or a sparkle. No one was telling me how it should be done or all that I was doing wrong. Even Jasper offered no suggestions or thoughts.

Time slipped away from me and only came back when I found myself fixing details and I decided to stop before I ended up ruining it. Jasper’s voice was suddenly behind me.

“It’s unbelievable,” he whispered softly.

I turned to see him standing, staring at the canvas over my shoulder.

I stood and moved back beside him, stretching my legs and back. It had been hours, and he had been patient, letting me continue until I was ready to stop.

“Yours is great,” I said kindly, though only half of his canvas had been painted before he had abandoned it to watch me. “This was so much fun. Thank you so much for all of this.” I wrapped my arms around his waist in a hug, unable to help myself.

The second our bodies pressed together, the remainder of my worries flew from me. Like our first hug, when everything else disappeared after he had helped me with the koi pond. There was nothing sexual in the hug. Instead, it was supercharged with something deeper and, unfortunately, far, far more dangerous.

I tipped my head up to look at him. For a full minute, we just locked eyes and savored the comforts of the hug. When it grew too serious, he broke the silence.

“I’ll share the proceeds with you once I auction it off.”

A grin pulled at my mouth. “You think it’s okay?” I asked earnestly.