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Donna felt her face heat as she caught a fellow student’s eye.
“She’s keen,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Bernard was a retired postman and a wonderful painter. He’d also seen right through Mairi. So much for her pretending to be an artist.
“She’s my sister.” Donna leaned toward him. “She made me bring her. I don’t think she can even draw a straight line.”
His smile was pure mischief. “Don’t worry. I don’t think she’s here for the art.”
“No kidding…” She turned to find Mairi carrying a stool around the room as she asked everyone which the best place was to set up for a ‘good full frontal.’
“Kill me now,” Donna muttered, making Bernard laugh.
From behind a partition at the back of the room, their model stepped out. Donna let out a groan—it was the same athletic guy from the week before. Ever since Mairi had invited herself along, she’d been silently praying for another model. Any other model.
“If I left now,” she said to Bernard. “Would you mind keeping an eye on my sister for me?”
“Not on your life!” He grinned.
“Wow,” Mairi said to the woman beside her. “This art school doesn’t skimp on the models.” She cleared her throat and smiled at Gareth, their model. “Do you know which way you’ll be facing? I want to get a good spot.”
The post-grad student didn’t smile back. “This is a life class. Every spot is a good one. It’s all about the drawing. If you want to learn, choose a difficult angle, and start with some loose sketches, focusing on general form and light. What medium are you using? Charcoal? Pastel?”
Mairi looked flummoxed as she held up a pencil.
Gareth shook his head. “Charcoal is better for fast sketching. Easier to smudge out the mistakes. Anybody got any charcoal they can give the new girl?”
Mairi stepped toward him. “Between you and me, I’m so new that it’s probably a good idea for me to just observe this week—from the front. I mean, your front. So you can give me tips while I stare at you. I mean study you. In an artistic way.”
She was going to get them both killed. As soon as Keir figured out what she was up to, they were dead.
Donna hurried across the room, grabbed her sister’s arm, and smiled apologetically at Gareth. “Don’t mind her. She hit her head on the way here.”
She dragged her sister to the back of the room. “Will you behave? You’re going to get me kicked out. Or worse, a reputation as a pervert. You said you’d quietly observe. Nothing else.”
“You know”—Mairi put her hands on her hips—“I don’t think I like this new, assertive Donna.”
“If you don’t behave, I’ll assert my right to drag you out of here by the hair.”
“I’m telling Aggie you said that.”
“Good evening,” a voice called out, and the class turned to find their tutor standing in the doorway.
And she wasn’t alone.
Behind her, arms folded and glares in place, were their men.
“Oh, crap, we’re busted,” Mairi said. “And there aren’t even any windows in here to make an escape.”
Donna wasn’t listening, she was too busy crumbling under Duncan’s stare. She pointed at her sister. “She made me do it!”
“I know,” Duncan said.
“We all know,” Keir said.
“Even me,” Bernard, the fink, added.
“How did you get here so fast from Campbeltown?” Mairi asked, because that was the most important issue at hand. Not the fact Donna had most likely broken a million school rules sneaking her into class. Or that she’d probably made the model feel objectified by doing so.
She shot Gareth an apologetic smile, and he shook his head at her—disappointed. Her stomach clenched. She could cope with anything better than she could cope with disappointment.
