Chapter 11

Day 2

Ashton contemplated the unfinished image on the canvas, the painting of a face he was staring at was such a perilous beauty. She had misguided him out of his path. He had acted in contradictory with his own words. He had been inconsistent with his orders. He said to her that art was nothing important to him, yet now he asked her to be a part of his artistic project. He said to her that he wanted her to stay away from his properties, yet now he tricked her to come over and over again.

Women like her would lead men astray, would lure men into sin. Women like her would bring men to fatal destruction, like a siren tempted the sailors to crash onto the rocks with her sweet singing. But she wasn't a vixen at all, she didn't manipulate him to do something for her advantage. Instead he was the one that trapped her into his wickedness.

A week. What made him go to such length? At first, he just meant to have one last time with her. Yesterday he was caught on a whim in the last moment to extend it a little more. He just couldn't lose her that quickly. He was stoked to see her. Only thinking about it made him excited, waiting for it, anticipating it. It was like he was falling ... into temptation.

He tried to think about Selene to drive all the nonsensical thought away. He had sworn that he would never take a mistress, so he couldn't be more pleased the first time he met Selene. Apart of her superior bloodline and the substantial advantages she would bring to his family, she was any man's dream. She was perfection. She had anything he had always imagined in a woman. But never had Selene made him feel like waking up every morning with a purpose like this, as though the stream of sunlight filled him with vibrant energy. Habitually he always got up early in the morning, determined to do his duties, but he never felt thrilled and high-spirited like this before. What wild magic was it which had possessed him?

Ashton battled an insane idea that suddenly sprang to mind, suggesting a name for this unknown emotion, a word that he never used to describe his feeling to any of a few women he had had romantic encounter with. He always thought that 'the word' was overrated. It made no sense. He barely knew her. It couldn't be anything but a temporary madness, a fleeting obsession. Whatever feeling he had for her right now, it didn't mean to last. He perceived reluctantly that he had somewhat infatuated with her. A meaningless infatuation, strong and intense as much as fickle and short-lived, and soon would be forgotten in the passage of time.

A soft knock on the door broke in. The door clicked open and she appeared in the doorway, looking at him shortly before she turned to close the door. Strange, she couldn't be more beautiful now than the first time he saw her in her glorious entrance at the evening soiree, when each and every one of his noble fellow judged her as a diamond of the first water. But at that time, she didn't move him as she did now, in her plain, dull-colored Cinderwench outfit.

Her witch-black hair was set in a simple loose braid that twisted at the back of her head, a mass of free locks tumbling over her shoulders. Her dress was as simple and plain as most of the village girls, in a somber grey color. She wore no jewelry at all, but plainly she needed no jewel to enhance her loveliness. Her eyes were the most sparkling jewel, they had their own inner light.

She took the box carrying the costume on the commode and stood there, waiting. He left her to change and the day began just like yesterday, but apparently quieter. None of them spoke until he brushed the canvas for some time. Better be this way. The last thing she wanted was to have another drama for today and the days to come. Even though he wanted her as a muse, it didn't change the fact that he detested her. That was why their communication led to an unreasonable clash yesterday. It would be wiser to limit her talking as short and little as possible, no more than necessary. Still, this whole situation unsettled her. She wasn't certain what it was precisely, but she got a feeling that he had something in his mind that she could not foresee.

He seemed absorbed in perfecting some details on the canvas, his eyes focused there and not drifted to her for a long while. She took the chance to contemplate him while he was entirely unaware. When he was in a calm state of mind like this, perfectly relaxed and comfortable in his doing, the taut expression in his face softened, camouflaged the arrogance that so characterized his very existence. When his cold, calculating eyes cast down on the canvas, half hidden underneath the long dark eyelashes, he looked so infuriatingly beautiful, like a fallen angel. Angel of death, she reminded herself. He was cruel, conceited, ill-tempered, volatile... she struggled to find more unfavorable adjectives to describe his contemptible characteristics. Suddenly he glanced at her, she didn't expect to be caught watching him, she lowered her gaze instantly and felt her cheeks burning. Ridiculously, she felt shy.

Ashton knew she had watched him for some time secretly. When he looked back at her, her eyes darted down and away. It was a clear sign of attraction. He found it interesting. He had sensed that she had something more than just moral duty to keep coming back to him, despite her reluctance to be near him. What was he going to do with her?

"Are you tired?" He asked.

"No." She was still looking down to avoid meeting his eyes.

She was curiously quiet today, and despite her calm expression he could sense that she was cautious. There was a slight hint of trepidation she tried to conceal. She sat with her shoulders tensed and her whole body rigid. What was she possibly afraid of?

"Would you prefer to take a break?"

"No, thanks."

"I think we will."

He sprang from his seat and walked toward a large wooden table in the middle of the room in fast, long strides. On the table were a bottle of white wine and some crystal glasses, and her reticule at the edge.

"Come here."

She rose instantly and followed him before she knew it. A moment later, she recognized with a slight annoyance how easy for him to command and how easy for her to obey him. He possessed such authority that made her feel like she was obliged to take his order, to answer to his call immediately. He just had that air about him, a man who had the world at his feet. She imagined he never had to answer to anyone.

He poured the pale sparkling liquid into two crystal glasses and pushed a glass toward her across the table. This was going to be terribly awkward, to have a drink with him, a man she barely knew, a man who disliked her. She glanced at the chair next to her and wondered if she was going to sit there. He was still standing there, started to sip the wine slowly. Suddenly she felt like she wanted to fly back to the armless settee and sat still until the clock struck twelve. She'd rather be thirsty for the next few hours, no, the next twenty four hours, than sitting across from him and drinking some wine with him like they were bosom friends. What did she suppose to do while doing so? Bring on a polite conversation? She didn't think they could talk to each other normally.

"What are you waiting for? Drink."

Her hand shaking a bit in a sudden nervousness and she caught the glass hastily, unintentionally knocking the reticule to the floor. Everything inside it scattered about her feet and she gasped. She bent down quickly, hoping that he hadn't seen ...

"Jesus Christ! What is that??!!"

She looked up at him instantly and met his astounded expression. His widened eyes nailed the pistol on the floor, half covered by her hand. She looked down at the pistol again as though she wanted to confirm what he had seen. For a moment, they both just stared at the beautiful weapon. She tilted her head up again when she heard his voice.

"If you, by any chance, think that I mean to do anything untoward..."

He stared at her in extreme disbelief, his face looked almost comical in his shock.

"No, no, no! It's not! I know you're not that kind of man!"

"Then give me one good reason..." His eyes never strayed from the gun, watching her every little move in alert.

"Why do you come to my place with a concealed weapon?"

A concealed weapon. He made it sound as though she was planning an unexpected attack. Ava put the pistol and other stuffs inside the reticule quickly under his cautious inspection.

"I bring it anytime, anywhere since the night I almost... you know, the night you saved my life. We never know when we would meet some ... unexpected situation."

"You bring it in the morning? To the market?"

She nodded. It was a lie. Actually she just didn't bother to tidy up her reticule after her last visit to Madam Nora. But she didn't want to complicate things up.

"That's morbid."

He was still looking at her with the same expression.

"Can you use it?"

"Very well." That was the truth.

She was dangerous, literally, it never occurred to him that she was carrying that weapon all the time while she was with him. He had been unwary, heedless of his own safety. He was completely unguarded. He had underestimated her. But who would think a delicately-nurtured woman, who seemed to be sheltered in a safe and peaceful environment for all her life, who seemed utterly feminine and harmless, would go around carrying a killer weapon in her bag? He started to question did he really want to spend a week alone with her? He downed the wine impetuously in one long swallow, suddenly feeling the need to fortify himself.

She scurried back to the armless settee and glanced shortly at him. He seemed quite taken aback. She regretted her careless mistake. However, it made him forgetting about the uncomfortable break.

He made his way back to the stool and sat there, still feeling overwhelmed.

"You never stop making me jump out of my skin. If we keep seeing each other, I think before long I will get a heart attack."

And I will get a severe mental illness, she thought. If they were friends, she might very well enjoy to return his sarcastic hyperbole.

"I apologize." She murmured politely.

"How did you get that?" He asked with a cautious glance.

"It's a gift from my sister."

"Seriously?"

What the hell was wrong with these girls? Girls usually give ribbons, laces, and sort of things to one another.

"Yes."

"For what purpose?"

"Merely for survival, I suppose."

She didn't lie, and she didn't have that threatening aura about her. A menacing air that laced a dangerous person in one's presence. If she had, he would have sensed it from the first time.

"You are extremely short on words today." He wanted to know the reason behind her quietness.

"Am I?"

"Obviously. Seems like you simply don't want to talk more than a yes or a no."

"Isn't it good?"

"Good? For what?"

She struggled to find an appropriate answer.

"For... us."

The answer was rather confusing.

"Do explain precisely what you mean."

She sighed.

"It's better if I don't talk too much as it appears I always vex you when doing so."

He considered her answer for some time, then he said.

"I promise there will be no repetition of... the previous incident."

Although he never expressed guilt or regret explicitly, she found that he admitted his mistake in some way, in his own way. But she still felt uncertain. She didn't want to experience another explosion.

"Besides, I haven't the slightest intention to upset you knowing you are carrying that bloody weapon with you."

Slightly surprised by little humor in his lines, she replied playfully.

"That would be wise."

"Do you really know how to use that thing?"

"Quite so."

"Who taught you?"

"My sister. She said a woman must have some sort of self defense."

He suspected her sister was several times wilder and crazier than what the gossip said about her.

"I'm impressed."

He said and then added.

"Quite a feminine sort of self defense."

She reacted defensively at his comment.

"We only have a few choices. We don't have physical strength to fight in close combat and a gun will allow us to defend ourselves in a relatively safe distance from the attacker."

"Did you ever use it against somebody before?" He asked casually, but somehow she noticed a hint of vigilance.

"No. Never." She answered decisively.

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong impression on this. I've never shot anything but a target board. I'm carrying my gun with me only these past days after the incident. True, I considered it might be necessary to keep it when I decided to move to this town, because I suppose there would be risks of danger. After all, it's a perfectly unfamiliar place to me with no man's protection and no one to rely on. It's merely for survival."

She was explaining herself and it seemed like she was a little unguarded this time. A perfect time to venture further. He wanted to know about her.

"Why did you choose this path?"

"What?"

"Why do you choose to suffer a constant difficulty living in a hideaway? What could possibly be so terrible about being married to Roger Irving? He is reasonably decent and good looking. Everybody know he is a spendthrift and a compulsive gambler, but I don't see that it matters."

Because your father was richer than Croesus, and would be eager to provide you with a generous allowance. But Ashton decided to keep the last line to himself.

"I'd rather hang myself than being married to him. He is an insufferable cad."

Her answer implied that her betrothed had done something to her that infuriatingly molesting. It aroused an absurd curiosity. He wondered if she preserved her chastity. He studied her furtively. If she were just another peasant girl, he would believe that she was a virgin. Her whole appearance and gestures signified innocence. Yet her mother and sister were well known to have a debauched lifestyle, especially her sister who overtly showed her excessive sensual behavior in public. Her morality was questionable. This young woman might look as innocent and proper as a demure country miss, but it was impossible if she hadn't been tainted. Possibly both Magnus and Irving had gone all the way with her. He speculated about how many men she had been intimate with. Strangely, the wicked thought was arousing and irritating at the same time.

As though she could read his mind, she stared at him and said firmly.

"Whatever you might think of me right now, you've got the wrong idea."

His paintbrush halted at once. How could she know what he was thinking about?

"You must be thinking I spoke ill of him to justify myself, but I broke the betrothal for all the right reasons."

She would never understand how her adulterous cad of a fiancé could ever make it to be a society heartthrob. It seemed like she was the only one who thought that Roger was an incorrigible loser.

"As far as I know, the betrothal between you and your betrothed is an agreement under the law which is unbreakable, and can only be fortwith unto and non binding, according to His Majesty." He said nonchalantly.

So her father had exaggerated when he said that even the king himself couldn't break it. Unfortunately it didn't make a difference.

"Or it can be void if I'm already married to another man before they find me."

She said it rather to herself, trying to push away the fear that suddenly creeping into her mind.

"I see no reason why you put yourself into a troublesome situation like this. Essentially, Irving isn't a bad option."

"He tried to molest me, and he hit me in the process. Is it acceptable to your sensible standards of judgment?"

Her voice rose in pitch.

She said 'he tried to'. It meant he hadn't done it yet. It meant possibly she had not lost her innocence... He struggled to push away the nonsensical thoughts. What the hell was he thinking about? What made him desperate to know about her private matters? He didn't have any intention to go further than this, let alone to have an affair with her. It didn't matter if she was a virgin or a slut or anything in between.

"Then you'd prefer to live in a hideaway for an uncertain period of time over marrying your noble fiancé?"

"I'd prefer death over marrying him." She replied tartly.

"How did it feel to leave all the convenience you had been used to? It must be quite tough, isn't it?"

"I think I've already got used to it."

"Don't talk nonsense. You were raised in the lap of luxury. Perhaps you can endure this kind of life for a year or two, but you cannot live like this forever."

"I'm not that into luxuries, I found out living a simple life isn't that bad. If there's something more I'd rather to obtain, it is to build my own family."

If it ever happened, she would be free from the binding contract, and she would have a chance to see her family again.

"So, you're planning to build a family..."

From the look in his face, it seemed as if she had said something ludicrous. Feeling a bit irritated with his skepticism, she replied defensively.

"I know the prospect is quite impossible, but if there's a chance, it's preferable. Otherwise, I'll just have to go on by myself."

Suddenly a crackbrained impulse caught him. He wanted to know a little bit more. He wanted to know what sort of woman she was.

"I wouldn't consider it an option if I were you."

"What?"

"To go on by yourself. Eventually, it couldn't provide you the most essential need."

"I've been living by myself thus far, and I can make quite a sufficient living."

"I'm not talking about material well-being. A woman, alone in this world without a man's protection have become all too frequent victims of assaults and other violent crimes."

He chose his words carefully, he would make it as subtle as it possibly could. At the same time, he should make certain she understand what he meant.

"While marriage is impossible, sure a man can offer you a mutual solution for your situation."

He just wanted to put her to the test. He just needed to know, had she given an offer, would she take the chance? Moreover, would she take the chance if the offer was from him?

"What do you mean?"

Every voice in the back of his mind warned him in extreme urgency to stop whatever game he played. That he would be the one who failed the test instead of her. Again he chose to ignore it.

"I'm sure you will have no difficulty in finding a man who would be willing to provide you safety and security in return for your companionship."

Most women would know what suggestion behind this statement, and if she was the same sort of women with her mother, she would undoubtedly know how to respond.

Ava looked back at him warily. It surprised her that he had said such a thing to her. Could it be possible that he had an implicit purpose in his statement? Could it be a covert invitation? But she couldn't tell exactly because his statement was also innocuous enough to be considered so. Perhaps he just said it idly, with no particular purpose or reason. After a moment's consideration, she decided she didn't need to know his true intention. She already knew her answer.

"I'll never choose that path, under any circumstances."

"Even if it's the only way to survive?"

He replied with a raised brow.

A high-born man like him would never understand what it was like to be a bastard, especially for women.

"Even if my life depends on it. I don't want to pass my ill-repute to my future children."

She was utterly resolute in her statement.

"You'll never know how it feels to be an illegitimate child like me. To be loathed and despised by public for something you cannot help, you cannot control, for something you never choose to be. To be considered low, unworthy and undeserving of a proper life, to bear the consequences of your parents' misdeed. I will never let any child I might be blessed with to suffer the same fate. I will never let it happen."

She paused a second, and fixed him with an unswerving final line.

"It's more important than my own happiness or safety, even my own life."

It pricked his conscience instantly. She had answered him in the most explicit way possible, leaving no room for confusion or doubt. Such an irony, it was her who should be morally corrupt instead of him. He should be ashamed of each and every filthy notion he had for her.

He came to a new comprehension. She deserved his utmost respect. It should extinguish his desire for her entirely, knowing there was no chance. Unfortunately, it just dreadfully inflamed whatever feelings he had for her.