Free Just North of Bliss by Alice Duncan Page B

vulgarity.”
    Win blinked at her. “Vulgarity?” Did the
word corsets equate with vulgarity? He gave an internal
shrug and decided it must, where she came from. Dammit, why
couldn’t she be from New Jersey or Massachusetts, or some other
up-to-date state? Why’d the perfect woman have to hail from the
benighted South?
    Belle sniffed. “Yes. I don’t believe it
proper to refer to ladies nether garments in public.”
    Amalie and Garrett giggled. Win saw their
mother give them a stern look, although she, too, appeared amused.
Win might have thought Belle’s insufferable prudery amusing, too,
if it wasn’t interfering with his inspiration.
    “This isn’t a public place,” Win muttered
under his breath. Because he didn’t want to foment an all-out
mutiny on her part, he forced another smile. “Well, we don’t have
to try for that pose this evening. If you’ll just turn to the
three-quarters view once more, I’ll take this picture, and we’ll
see how it turns out.”
    “Very well.” She turned.
    Win tilted his head and wondered if this was
going to be worth it in the long run. Instantly he took himself to
task. Certainly, it was going to be worth it. Hell, he was only a
little tired tonight. All he had to do was charm this Southern
belle of an ice maiden into complying with his wishes, and he’d
never have to deal with her again in this lifetime.
    Thus encouraged, he spoke in a friendly tone
when he said, “Good. That’s perfect, Miss Monroe. Now, try to
recapture that expression you had a few minutes ago. You know, when
you were tucking your precious cherubs into their beds at
night.”
    He caught the caustic glance she cast at him
from the corner of her eye, but opted not to react to it. It would
behoove him to keep his temper, no matter how difficult a task it
was. If he blew up, she’d vanish, and he’d never get to undertake
the project that had become so important to him.
    “Think of tucking me in, Miss Monroe,”
Amalie suggested sleepily.
    Now there, Win thought with some bitterness,
was a female who knew her worth and wasn’t terrified of the world’s
opinion. He wished he could borrow a portion of Amalie’s
self-confidence and easy-going nature and sprinkle it over Miss
Belle Monroe. It was a sad fact that life wasn’t that simple.
    “I’ll try to do that, dear.”
    The strain and doubt discernible Belle’s
voice was marginally discouraging to Win, but she did a better job
than he anticipated. As soon as she’d changed her facial
expression, he ducked under the black cloth and pulled the chain.
An explosion again sent the children into fits of giggles. As soon
as the flash died, Belle seemed to do likewise.
    Without even looking in Win’s direction, she
grabbed her skirt in her hand and headed for the stair down from
the platform. Win hollered, “Wait!” before he remembered with whom
he was dealing.
    His yell stopped her, though. She stiffened
up like water freezing, and gave him an equally chilly stare. “I
beg your pardon?”
    “Sorry,” Win muttered. He hurried to replace
the flash powder and slide another plate into his camera. “Didn’t
mean to shout. But I want to get one shot of you and the two
children together. After I develop all of these plates, I’ll have a
better idea how to set up the composition of the pictures I want to
take.”
    Belle’s pretty alabaster brow wrinkled, as
if she didn’t understand what he’d just said. Fortunately, she
complied with his request—shout—Whatever it had been—without
quibbling. Win not only hadn’t anticipated her easy compliance, but
he appreciated her not fighting with him about it.
    The children, needless to say, scrambled up
from their bench and hurried over to the platform. Children were
fun to photograph, unless they were cut of Mr. Wiggles’ stamp,
because they were generally such egoists. Win figured that quality
eventually got knocked out of a body, but while it lasted whoever
had it was much easier to photograph