Page 10 of Dare to be Wicked

Cassius looked up, an unwelcome flush of heat making a slow crawl up his neck. Eliza was framed in the doorway of the summerhouse, her trim figure backlit by the bright afternoon sunlight outside. Her words made something hot and uncomfortable squirm in his belly, for although she was teasing him without a hint of reproach, he had indeed been hiding from her.

“Mother has given me leave to use the summerhouse as my studio,” he said, gesturing to the chaos of packing boxes filled with paints and art materials, and the stacks of canvases he had brought back from France piled against the walls.

“It makes a perfect studio,” she observed with a nod, looking about her with interest.

“Yes, the big windows make it wonderfully light and the view over the lake is one I shall never tire of. It is away from the house, too, and free of distractions.”

“Oh,” she said, hesitating on the threshold. “I—”

“Oh no!” Cassius said in a rush. “I never meant you. You could never be a distraction to me, Eliza. Er… I mean….”

What the hell did he mean? He wondered as Eliza stared at him with a puzzled expression. Except he had been distracted from everything since the moment Lottie had burst onto the terrace and back into his life. He’d been able to think of nothing else but the vivacity he’d seen in her eyes, her obvious joy in seeing him, and… and he could not help but wonder….

Eliza gave him a kind smile. “It must be strange to be home after your adventures. No doubt it will take you a week or so to settle back to it after the excitement of everything you’ve seen and done.”

Cassius let out a breath and picked up one of the small earthenware jars he stored his paints in to keep them fresh. How typical of Eliza to remove any tension, to put him at his ease. It was what he liked most about her, how easy she was to be with, how she smoothed away the wrinkles in life with a soft word, and a kind gesture. It was gift few people possessed.

“Yes. I admit I’m all at sixes and sevens. I seem unable to settle to anything, even painting, so I thought I would arrange the studio.”

“And perhaps arrange your disordered mind at the same time,” Eliza said with a twinkle in her eyes.

Cassius laughed. “Quite so.”

He watched her as she moved about the studio, touching the bristly tops of paintbrushes stuffed in a jar and inspecting bottles of walnut oil.

“Cassius,” she said, the way she spoke his name clearly the prelude to something significant.

His stomach tightened.

“Oh, here you are!”

Lottie appeared in the doorway and Cassius jolted in shock. The sun caught the gold of her hair, shimmering around the edges, giving her the appearance of an angel with a halo of light glowing about her. Heat rushed over him, memories of the Lottie he had known for so long crashing into the vision before him. Mischievous Lottie, causing havoc and making him laugh, teasing him and playing tricks coalesced into this mystical vision that he wanted to paint, wanted to touch, wanted to do bad, bad things with. Longing rose inside him, the force of it knocking the air from his lungs. Cassius dropped the jar.

It hit the floor with a crash and the dozen or so pig’s bladders stored inside burst on impact. Cobalt blue and crimson lake burst against cadmium yellow and viridian, chrome orange and lead white. A rainbow of colour splattered everything from his boots and the empty fireplace to the hem of Eliza’s gown.

“Oh!” she said in consternation, jumping back too late to avoid the patter of ruinous oil paint against the delicate fawn silk of her gown.

“Eliza!” Cassius exclaimed, mortified. “My God, I’m so sorry, I… Damnation, I’m a bloody fool!”

Eliza looked up at him in shock. “It’s only a little paint, Cassius.”

“But it’s ruined,” he said, his throat tightening. “It’s quite ruined.”

“It’s just a gown, Cassius. I have many more, and my maid is a marvel, you know. No doubt she’ll have some clever method of having it cleaned or a way to disguise the damage. There’s no harm done.”

Cassius watched as Eliza hurried away to repair the damage to her gown, too aware he had not been speaking of the dress at all. He would ruin everything, damage a friendship that had lasted their whole lives if he gave into this overwhelming desire for her sister. Cassius looked up to see Lottie dithering just inside the door, wringing her hands together.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” she said miserably.

“What?” he asked in alarm, wondering if his feelings were so bloody obvious.

“I erupted in on you like… like an explosion and…” She gave an unhappy huff of laughter and gestured at the mess of colour on the ground. “I always leave a trail of destruction, though, don’t I? You must remember that much about me. I was always forcing myself upon you both, spoiling your games.”

Cassius did not remember her spoiling anything. Now he thought about it he realised she had made everything more exciting, finding adventure when Eliza would have stayed closer to home. He looked down at the paint for he could not look at her. Each bladder was about the side of a walnut and every one had detonated to create a starburst of paint. He stared down, finding a smile tugging at his mouth as he saw the pattern it had created: a joyous, vibrant blaze of colour against the dull background of the floor beneath. It was too perfect an analogy for the dazzling creature before him and the effect she’d had on the world about her.

“I think it’s beautiful.”

Lottie shook her head, clearly feeling wretched. “You are just being kind. It’s a dreadful mess.”