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"Oh, Kate. There's so much I could teach you," he said quietly. "Why don't you take the master class?"
"Because you're inappropriate." I sat staring at the landscape, the warm wind ruffling a few loose strands of my hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of my eyes. "You're rude."
He knelt down beside me, facing me. I glanced at him and saw that he was smiling.
"How am I rude and inappropriate? I'm only telling you the truth. I'm only being honest. For example, this fiancé of yours. Where is he?" Sefton said, glancing around, his hand making an arc in the air. "Why isn't he here, experiencing this with you? If you were mine, I would never leave you alone. I understand your desire to express something with your art, even if you don't yet know what it is. I also understand your other desires."
"Drake has his own life. He's a highly skilled neurosurgeon who—"
"I know who and what he is. My question is why a man who has you as his lover would let you go away for a weekend with a man who's been clearly interested in you."
"So you admit it," I said, turning to face him, my cheeks hot from the adrenaline that coursed through me.
"Of course I admit it – a beautiful young and talented submissive who is also an artist? How could I not be interested? How could I not try to win you?"
I turned away.
"It doesn’t matter how you feel. Drake and I are getting married so you shouldn't approach me, knowing I'm engaged."
He waved his hand in dismissal. "These are social conventions. Marriages fail. Engagements end. People are with other people for the wrong reasons. You think because he tie
s you up and gives you pleasure that he's the one? Tell me this – is he your first Dom?” He stared at me but I didn’t answer. “I thought so.” He smiled as if in triumph. “Do you really think that because he’s able to control you, dominate you, that he’s the one? Does he know anything about art?"
"He's a musician. He knows about the arts."
"I said, does he know anything about art? Can he understand your need to draw and paint?"
"He encourages me. He made sure we found a house so I could have a studio."
"If you were mine," Sefton said as if he hadn't even heard me. "I'd be able to teach you so much, show you so much. This doctor of yours is pretty busy, no? Always working, teaching, with his students. Not much of a life for you."
"I can't believe we're having this conversation," I said, indignation filling me. "I'm in love with Drake. That's the end of it."
"Whatever you say, Kate. But think of this – when you're all alone those days and nights when he's off working at the hospital or teaching or doing whatever else he does, what will you be doing all alone with your paints? If you were with me, we'd spend our lives together."
He stalked away, and I glared at his back.
My heart was pounding, my hands shaking. Who did he think he was to talk to me like that? Saying those things? He was a rude buffoon. A total jerk.
And yet…
And yet he'd merely expressed the very fears I'd been having for the past couple of weeks while Drake shadowed Michael and I was alone at either the hotel or our new home. I would have to be alone a lot, if I married Drake. He'd always have his surgical practice, which, because of his specialized skills, would put him in very high demand. He had his foundation and he had his band. And he had the surgical implements business his father started…
Where would I fit in?
He loved me. I knew he did. I loved him. We'd find a way to share our lives. Maybe I wouldn't be with him as much as I wanted, but whatever time he had, I wanted to spend with him.
Sefton was a total jerk to try to come between us. He thought that because I was a submissive and an artist that somehow we were more compatible? There wasn't a bone in my body that was compatible with Sefton. I disliked him from the start and I disliked him even more now.
It was only late Friday afternoon and my safari was already ruined. I despaired about the rest of the safari, and regretted agreeing to come with Claire. How would I get through the entire weekend?
I sat fuming for a moment, my drawing forgotten in my funk. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the wind through the tall grass, rippling the leaves on the trees behind me. I breathed in the scent of the savannah – clean and pure, the air hot in the late afternoon.
I decided then and there I wouldn’t let Sefton ruin the safari for me. I had the new drawing of the elephants to finish. I was glad he challenged me, for I did think that the drawing I was doing now was better. He was right about art. It had to be more than picture-perfect mimicry. Any photographer could take that picture I was drawing before and it would be even more realistic. My work had to be more than a photographic reproduction of the scene before me. It had to speak to anyone viewing it.
I had to find my voice.
I decided then and there that I would use Sefton. I didn’t like him. There was no way he could hope to seduce me so there was no risk in engaging him. If he thought he'd get into my panties, he was sorely mistaken. But he could teach me about being an artist. I could learn from him and Talia.
