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"Yes. That's what I wanted to see your parents about, or part of what I wanted to see them about. I think we should go ahead with your sittings for Sardo, using this opportunity to pump him for information on his employer. With two modifications, however. One, you won't be alone with Sardo, and two, Grace won't be your chaperon. I will."
"You?" Noelle's brows shot up. "Ashford, your presence at my sittings would defeat the entire purpose of my plan. André's not going to lower his guard in the company of a known enemy."
"He will if he doesn't see me." Ashford leaned forward, quickly scanning the room. "That broad window ledge over there…" He pointed. "The one that's cushioned. It overhangs the entire length behind the sofa. What's beneath it?"
Startled, Noelle followed his glance. "Why, nothing. Only the carpet. That cushion is where my cat sleeps on sunny mornings."
"Is he territorial?"
"Who?"
"Your cat."
"She," Noelle corrected. "Why? Do you intend to battle her for the ledge?"
"No, I intend to tuck myself beneath it and behind the sofa, which will completely conceal me from view."
The pieces of Ashford's strategy fell into place. "You're going to secretly attend my sittings and eavesdrop on my conversations with André," Noelle realized aloud.
"And keep my eye on you," Ashford added. "It's the only way your parents would agree to the idea—and I happen to concur with their decision." His fingers tightened around hers. "Noelle, I promised them, and myself, that I'd keep you safe."
"I see." Noelle nodded slowly. "Very well. I can't argue that your idea makes sense. And not only in terms of protecting me. Your being here will save us valuable time and afford us valuable insights."
"My thoughts exactly," Ashford concurred. "This way you won't have to give me a step-by-step accounting of your talks with Sardo, and we'll have both our observations from which to form possible conclusions."
Noelle cast another glance at Ashford's prospective hiding place. "We can push the sofa even closer to the window ledge. Given its location, André won't be able to spot you. Especially since he'll doubtless choose to paint near the broad expanse of windows on the other side of the room. As for Tempest, she's spirited but generous—at least with those people she considers friends. We'll just have to ensure she counts you among those chosen few before my first sitting. After which she'll be happy to share her territory, if not her ledge, with you."
"Tempest?" Ashford grinned. "Who named your cat? And why was that particular name chosen—or need I ask?"
"You needn't." Noelle's lips curved. "She's altogether too much like me, and always has been. Given that she was a gift from my parents, it seemed fitting to award her Papa's nickname for me."
"What was the occasion?"
"My first Christmas and my fourth birthday." Noelle's heart warmed as she remembered that pivotal day in her life—the day she'd officially become Eric and Brigitte's child. "Tempest was the first thing that had ever truly been mine—not counting my stuffed cat Fuzzy. And Tempest was real. She was only a kitten when Mama and Papa gave her to me. The first thing she did upon being freed from her crate was to upset all our presents and scoot up our Christmas tree."
A tremulous pause. "I'll never forget how happy I was. I acquired a home, a pet, and the two most wonderful parents on earth that day. I also acquired the knowledge that I was going to be a sister. Yes, that was a wonderful Christmas. The only one more wonderful was the following one, after Chloe was born. She made our family complete—and inherited Fuzzy in the process. To this day, she keeps him on her dressing table."
Ashford's thumb caressed her cheek. "And does Tempest still live up to her name?"
"Oh, yes," Noelle assured him, blinking moisture from her lashes. "Even at fourteen, she has more energy than any cat I've ever seen. I'll bring her down later, so you two can meet. Which reminds me, you can't leave without saying hello to my sister. Chloe made me promise her that before I came downstairs. She was thoroughly charmed by you." A sideways look. "Evidently all women are."
Ashford chuckled. "Your sister was a godsend. According to Juliet, Lucas and Cara have been talking about her nonstop since the party ended. Of course I'll say hello."
"Chloe knows nothing of our plan," Noelle cautioned swiftly, determined to shield her younger sister from any and all danger. "Nor does she know our suspicions about Baricci. All she knows is how captivated with you I am." Color stained Noelle's cheeks. "I shouldn't have said that, should I?"
"Yes, you should have." Ashford threaded his fingers through her hair, tipped back her head so he could gaze into her eyes. "I'm captivated with you, too, Noelle. More captivated than you know."
"Did you tell that to my parents, as well?"
"I did." Ashford's lips brushed hers, ever so lightly. "I also told them I couldn't stay away from you. And I convinced them to let me visit. That is all right, isn't it?"
"Yes—definitely." Noelle wanted desperately to pursue this subject, to find out exactly what Ashford had said to her parents and how they, most particularly her father, had responded.
But now was not the time—not when Baricci was still at large and their plans to implicate him not yet finalized.
"When shall I send for André?" she asked.
"Immediately. Tell him you're ready to begin posing for your portrait."
